Dragon Age: Light of the Maker

04. IN THAT BALEFUL EYE

CHAPTER IV: IN THAT BALEFUL EYE
☼ QUEEN MIRYAM ☼

"And in that baleful eye I saw
The Lady of Sorrow, armored in Light,
Holding in her left hand the scepter
Of Redemption. She descended
From on high, and a great voice
Thundered from the top of every
Mountain and pinnacle across creation."
- Canticle of Exaltations 1:3

Denerim was a ghost to Queen Miryam Mottiere. Here, they had defeated the archdemon, they had gotten married before the Maker and the world to witness, they had built their home, they had delivered their son. Miryam wondered how different her life would be if Cailan had perished on the field of Ostagar with his men all those years ago, if General Loghain's plan of betrayal would have come to fruition in full. Would being spared the pain of losing Cailan be worth losing all of the happiness she had found with him?

The procession marched through the streets of Denerim with Miryam and her ensemble at the head of it. Her high-collared gown was of velvet black, a color she'd hated wearing due to the darkness associated with it. But now she felt comfortable in it, as if it was meant for her. The color of mourning. I wonder if I will ever stop.

The bells that sounded through the streets were hollow and met with silence. The last time Miryam had heard these bells had been the day of her son's birth, but it had been an entirely different rhythm. These bells were not for life; they were mournful, for death. The death of the greatest king that ever lived.

When the carriage rolled to a halt, Miryam thought her breath might stop with it. But it went on, as did she, as she stepped from the carriage holding her son's pudgy hand. Hundreds of nobles and friends were gathered at the courtyard to say their farewells. He'd had many throughout his life, so likable and friendly as he was. Their companions from the Blight had even taken their time out of their lives and adventures; there was Oghren, visibly drunk and miserable. Sten, standing proud and stoic, as if he would guard Cailan from all malicious spirits during his journey to the Maker's side. Zevran, whose signature smirk was devastatingly absent. Fiona Aeducan, queen and Warden-Commander of Orzammar, her expression twisted in anger as if her temper could outrun her grief. Alfstanna Amell, the Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine, and Chauncey de Santis, her Antivan merchant prince husband. Wise Wynne had joined them, as well, with Lys and Alistair's children in front of her.

Miryam ran her eyes over every face. Perhaps she was sizing the guests up to determine whether they were at fault for this, or perhaps she was delaying the inevitable of seeing her husband's body. She felt a cold hand on her shoulder urge her to join the ensemble, turning her head to see it was Lys. Lys will keep me moving forward, Miryam thought, despairing. Maker knows I cannot do it alone.

The crowd parted at their approach. All eyes were on the widowed queen, some indifferent, some sorry for her. Where she used to cower away from being the center of attention, she ignored it. She wanted to scream. He was mine first. Do not treat me like I am the intruder. But she kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other, holding Lys's hand in her right and Vanedrin's in her left. Alistair walked alongside Vanedrin, trying to return the gaze of all those staring.

And when they reached Cailan's lifeless body, Miryam did not shy away. Splotches of burned skin were dotted throughout his body, as well as a countless amount of scars, many Miryam had kissed better. His hair remained like spun gold, flowing well past his bare shoulders, and Miri could remember all the hours she spent braiding it. His eyes were closed, but Miri knew there to be two bright blue orbs beneath the lids, eyes she had lost herself in thousands of times throughout the years. Skin that was once sun-kissed was now pale and drained, his lips blue.