When Fate Summons (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

On the Road Again

Thora and Morrigan returned from Denerim with the king and his guards, and the next morning the company of travelers prepared to set off from the Vigil. Jens and Captain Dirnley stood at attention by the gate, waiting for the Wardens to be ready to go. Thora was deep in conversation with Varel and Dennis about matters at the Vigil to be taken care of while she was gone. Where was Oghren? she wondered impatiently. He should be here getting his orders.

She looked around for the red-headed dwarf, finally seeing him come through the gate. Felsi was right behind him, with the little ones clinging to her skirt. "It's about time," Thora snapped.

"Sorry, Commander. Had to make sure the wife got enough bronto in her cave before we go." He elbowed Thora in the ribs, grinning hugely, while Felsi sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Wait, before we go?" Thora looked at him. "Oghren, you're in charge here. You can't go."

"Warden, I have my orders from a higher authority," he said, jerking a thumb at Felsi. "Dennis and Varel have things under control here, and it's a good chance for a few of the junior nug-humpers to get some training in command."

Thora looked at Felsi, who said, "She's a special girl, Thora. Oghren's blade will help make sure you get to her."

Tears in her eyes, Thora hugged her friend. "You just want him out of your hair for a while," she chuckled.

"True." Felsi grinned. "The drunken sot smells like dead bronto—I need some breathing room." Oghren growled at his wife, kissing her deeply—and inappropriately—while the assembled group clapped and whistled. Or looked disapproving, in the case of Alistair's two guards from Denerim.

"Don't you two have a cottage for that kind of thing?" Anders groaned. He nudged Thora. "What's going on over there?" He motioned to where Xandros, Morrigan, and Alistair were having a very tense conversation.

The dwarf Sigrun came up in time to hear the question. "The King disagrees with Morrigan and Xandros about where we should go," she said. She looked at Thora, wondering what the Commander's reaction would be.

"I don't know why he's bothering," Thora sighed, but she knew exactly. Alistair wanted Morrigan back in her outsider/follower position, and wanted to maintain his own authority. "All right," she said, raising her voice. "Let's move out!"

Alistair walked over to her side, towering over her. "Move out? We don't know where we're going."

"Yes," she said. "We do." She stared at him calmly, wondering how far he intended to push her.

"You're just going to blindly follow her?" he asked quietly.

"No, not blindly," she snapped. "I trust her."

"Why?" Alistair frowned.

"Two reasons. One, because she has as much to lose as we do. Two, because Xandros agrees with her, and he's the best hunter and tracker in the Vigil."

Alistair's mouth opened, then closed again. Thora refused to back down. She was the Commander; he was, after all, the one who had put her in charge all that time ago. And there could only be one leader. "All right," he said finally. "If you think we can trust her..."

She nodded briefly. They got started. After careful consideration, she had decided the extra hassle that came from the care and feeding and watching of horses outweighed the speed advantages, so they would be walking. And if Alistair said anything about it being like old times, she was going to punch him.

By a couple of hours after lunch, the group, which had started out in a fairly compact formation, had stretched out a bit. Morrigan and Xandros were scouting ahead of the rest, Dirnley and Jens limping far behind. Clearly the castle folk weren't used to leaving their horses behind. Sigrun hung back near them, not entirely trusting the outsiders. Thora was walking with Anders, keeping a worried eye out for Morrigan and Xandros. She knew they were hoping to find something new along the road that might give them more information about Flemeth's destination.

"Anders, am I doing the right thing?" she said suddenly. "Trusting Morrigan? Believing that she's not feeding me some kind of line."

The mage looked ahead thoughtfully. "I think you are," he said at last. "I believe her. And you know me, I have faith in few women." He laughed a little, as if it wasn't true.

Thora tried to laugh with him, but her eyes were clouded with worry. "I just don't know," she said. "I'm used to being sure."

"I know," he said simply, one large, warm hand dropping casually to her shoulder, reassuring her with the comforting gesture. She smiled up at him, grateful for the support.

Behind them, Alistair saw the affectionate moment, and his jaw clenched, a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. What right did that ... apostate have to be touching her? It should be him, Alistair, giving her comfort, walking with her, having the right to ... touch.

"Easy, there, boy," Oghren grunted next to him. "Don't go windin' yourself up over things that aren't your business anymore."

"But— But he ... I mean, I—"

"Uh-huh. If you could finish any one o' them sentences, you might have somethin'. But you can't, and you don't." The dwarf belched heavily, swigging some more out of his ever-present tankard. "So don't go messin' with things you can't change."

The words held a great deal of truth, Alistair thought, but he still wanted to knock the mage's damn hand right off her shoulder.