Bitter Reunion

Gareth was still reeling from the tongue lashing he got at the Warden's Quarters. No one had ever thrown him out for trying to cheer them up before. Most women enjoyed his tomfoolery. Strange. Even so, he sat at the Gnawed Noble, awaiting the arrival of his cousin, Macha, for a long needed talk. Two years since Highever. So much has happened since then. It was almost unreal. He could still vividly recall the faces of frozen terror on the dead. His heart ached, and he hoped the Maker looked favorably upon the dead Couslands. Including little Oren. A child murdered so coldly. His fists clenched and then he drank heavily from the bottle of wine he had. Setting it down, he stared into the empty glasses, at his own reflection in them. He looked tired. His brown hair was a mess and his beard was unkempt. Taking the time to smooth his beard down, he watched the door for a certain dark haired cousin of his.

"Is this seat taken, stranger?" asked a light voice from behind Gareth, and a deceptively calloused hand placed itself on the back of his chair as its owner rounded to face him. Macha smiled down at her cousin - sadly, but fondly - and looked towards the bartender, motioning for a drink to be served before she sat down on the opposite side of the table from Gareth.

"You're early," she noticed, starting easily. There was no need to get into the heavy stuff right away. She'd need an ale at least in her before she would be ready to do any of that sort of talking. "I'd always thought you were the 'fashionably late' type, honestly."

If she was ready for this, Macha couldn't say, but she knew it needed to be done. Gareth deserved to know everything, and she'd have to fill him in on what Fergus couldn't have. She would, at least, try and find out what Gareth had learned already from her brother - anything she could leave out would be all the better for her.

Gareth smiled as his cousin snuck up on him. "Must be this cheap wine dulling my senses." He chortled. "As for being early, well, not much for me to do here in Denerim. I'm not the type to travel with a guard. You know I'm a capable fighter on my own." He shrugged his shoulders. He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I apologize for earlier, I just did not expect that sort of reaction to something that normally cheers people up."

Macha shrugged, glancing up and smiling at the woman who passed by to set her drink in front of her before looking back at Gareth. "She's an elf, and a Warden. I would have killed you, cousin or no cousin, if you'd seen me crying during the time I was on the road. I like to think I've regained a bit more of myself since, then, but most Dalish are less responsive to human niceties." It seemed obvious to her, but Gareth had never had cause to see an honest to goodness Dalish elf in his life. The Alienage elves were like mabari puppies compared to the full-grown might of the wolfish Dalish elves - there was little comparison at all between the two.

"In any event, I wouldn't worry to much about it. Perhaps you might think of apologizing like a normal person if you come across her again? I don't think she'd appreciate further theatrics. I know you meant well, but not everyone appreciated being hit on when one has a man already, and while crying, to boot. "

Gareth listened to Macha speak and sighed, placing his hands behind his head. "You'd really do it too, huh. Kill me, I mean. Maker knows I'd probably deserve it, being the heartbreaker I am." He mused. Sitting up straight again, and looking towards Macha, he sighed. "Everyone's so serious in Denerim, no sense of humor at all. I just can't stand seeing a woman depressed like that. And how was I supposed to know she was already taken? Not that that's ever stopped me before, mind you." He flashed a grin.

Macha rolled her eyes, huffing a look at her cousin. "Brilliant - good to know. I'll stick a sign on your back that says 'All Faithful Women, Beware.' That'll send them running off, away from your 'tender mercies.'" She grinned, a spark of humor returning to her eyes after what felt like a long time. "And of course I wouldn't really kill you. Tar and feather, maybe. Might even sic Argos on you, and see if you ever got the slobber out of your hair and beard."

Her grinned softened into a less humorous one, then, and she nodded slowly. "But I know you didn't mean any harm. You never do. It's not your fault - it was just a case of 'bad time, bad place.' Everyone has moments like that." Her thumb played with the handle of her mug, running up and down the glass without really paying attention to the movement. Her finger stilled, and she lifted the glad to take a long swig, putting it down with a sigh afterward. "Nothing is simple in this city, cousin. I don't think it'd be able to function any other way."

Gareth smirked at his cousin's jest. "All shall beware my bewitching good looks and charming smile!" He laughed and then stroked his beard when she mentioned it. "Dog slobber on this? I spent two years growing it out you know." He made a pouty face.

His smile faded and he cleared his throat. "Ah... can you please tell me what you've been doing for the past two years, Macha? Fergus only saw you last during the coronation. He said you had joined the Gray Wardens and helped stop the Blight but that's about it."

Macha swallowed hard, her eyes suddenly dropping to look at the amber-colored liquid in her mug. She'd know this was coming - there had been no question. It hadn't even been a matter of when. The moment she'd stepped into the tavern, she'd known that she'd have to retell everything that had happened in the past two years. But that didn't make it any easier.

"It wasn't all bad," she said first, looking up at him quickly. The words were hurried, like she had to make him know that. She might have even said it for her own sanity as much as for his explanation. "I remember laughing a lot - towards the end, I remember laughing more than crying, actually." Her eyes took on a faraway look, her fingers returning to playing with the mug, running up and down the side, playing with the wet condensation. Her gaze drifted back down to her hands, though she wasn't really seeing them. The events that had made up her life for so long were flashing there, in front of her mind, trying to fight for dominance over each other. It was easiest to start from the beginning.

"Fergus wasn't there that night, thank Andraste. He'd already left with his men. It was the middle of the night, and Argos woke me with his barking. Making noise to wake a drunken dwarf, he was. I found Mother, and we discovered that it was no accident that Howe's men had arrived late. They attacked the castle - with the guard gone with Fergus, it was only the watchmen and servants on duty. We didn't stand a chance. Oren and Oriana . . . Mother and I sent whatever survivors we could find to the servants entrance, where they could escape. We found Father there. He was wounded, but he'd made it because he thought Mother and I would be waiting there." The memories were hot around her, like the fires had been in the halls and rooms she'd grown up in. Most of what she remembered was emotion and chaos, but no matter how hard she'd tried to forget, saying goodbye to her Mother and Father was burned with perfect clarity into her brain. "The Grey Warden, Duncan, was there. Mother made me escape with him - she couldn't leave Father alone."

For a long moment after that, she was quiet, her eyes closed as she remembered her parents to the Maker. She was glad Gareth hadn't spoken yet. "After that," she continued, her voice unsteady with emotion, "Duncan brought me to Ostagar. I was so . . . messed up, during the trip there, I don't remember much of the time in between. I know that Duncan tried to calm me, tried to make me come back to reason, but I don't think I listened. But Ostagar was a distraction. I was made a Grey Warden, along with Nygozy and a few others - have you met her, yet? She's the Commander of the Grey Wardens, now. It couldn't have happened to a better woman. Anyway, Ostagar was even more of a disaster than Higher had been. The darkspawn massacred everyone. It wasn't a fight at all - it was a slaughter. Loghain had pulled his men out of battle before they'd even entered. King Alistair, Nygozy, me, and a few others - we were left at the tower. Even now, I'm not sure how we survived. I think we all passed out before we were saved, but I don't believe Flemeth's story about how she got us out of there."

She stopped there. It was a lot to take in already, she knew, and she didn't want to just keep talking. If she did that, she was afraid she'd never stop, or she'd do something stupid, like cry or laugh like an idiot.

Gareth felt sorry opening up old wounds but it had to be done. Listening to his cousin's tale he nodded several times wordlessly. He took a long sip from his ale. "I saw the Warden-Commander at the Landsmeet. I never spoke to her though. I spoke for Umoja and Highever there, siding with the Wardens. No way in hell I'd support the man who was allied with the snake who betrayed our family. Once Arl Howe was dead, I took custody of Highever until it could be returned to you or Fergus." He said, combing his fingers through his thick brown hair.

He placed a hand on his cousin's comfortingly. "The Maker was watching over you. And when you say Flemeth you mean the Flemeth from legends?" he asked her with widened eyes.

Macha nodded. "Yeah, Nygozy was at the Landsmeet. That was when I'd already gone to Orlais. I'm still angry with myself that I missed it. Howe was dead at that point, too." That was something that she herself had only heard in stories, and Nygozy had only given her the exact details once - since then, no one really spoke about it around her. She supposed she was thankful that they didn't, because she didn't need a reminder of how spectacularly she'd messed up. She knew that well enough on her own.

"Maybe He was," she said with a shrug. "I don't know, and I don't particularly care. It's been hard to really believe in the Maker, since everything. Even if I ignored what happened to my - our family, the elves and the dwarves . . . If I believed in the Maker, I still can't bring myself to sympathize with the Chantry." Her faith was something she'd considered quite often during these two years. The Maker and Andraste . . . At least Andraste had been a real woman, a woman worthy of respect. The Maker was something else entirely. The elvish pantheon had appealed to her greatly, when they'd met with the Dalish camp, and she could understand revering the family that came before you, as the Dwarves did.

Her lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, though, at the disbelief in her cousin's eyes. His hand was warm on hers, too. "Yes, that Flemeth. Crazy old bat, but scary as hell. I know she saved us - that much was obvious - I just don't know how she did it. Morrigan was very tight-lipped on the subject. Oh. Ah, Morrigan was her daughter, you see, and one of the people who traveled with us. I considered her my friend, even if she didn't. I liked her, for all the hardness about her." It was easier to talk about the people she'd been with, instead of the tragedies that had brought them together. The people - her friends - had been the only thing good in her life for almost two years.

Gareth was a religious man, to an extent. He still enjoyed his frivolous lifestyle even if it went against the Chantry's views on love and loyalty but he was a free spirit. Still, Macha used to be more of a believer than she was now. That made Gareth frown a bit. "I see. So the tales of Flemeth are true then. Spooky." he visibly shuddered, looking aside thoughtfully. "You have my thanks for saving Arl Eamon. Without his voice in the Landsmeet we would have been doomed. I heard you actually found the Urn of Sacred Ashes. You've seen Andraste's final resting place. What was it like?" he asked her, a glint of awe in his eyes.

Macha shrugged. "There was a dragon," she said, nonchalant. Honestly, the dragon had been the most frightening aspect of everything, but not the only frightening part. The ghosts and dead men - no darkspawn or undead attack could compare. "I saw . . . visions, I think - I don't want to think about what it would mean if they were real. I saw father. He said he forgave me, that he was only glad I was alive." Her voice choked a little, but she shook her head, and the mist in her eyes cleared up. She even managed a real smile, small as it was. "He said he was proud." She had to stop to clear her throat again, and continued on, a little hurried. "Then we found the Urn. It was a little underwhelming, after all we had been through to get there, but it did feel magical. I think that's why I can believe in Andraste now, even if not the Maker. No matter whether the Maker was real, or if Andraste was only seeing a madwoman's visions, she was still a great woman, and did great things."

Her fingers continued to slide along the glass in her hand, distracted and fidgety. She hadn't thought that it would feel good to go back over all of this, but it she still had to keep her emotions under control, or she'd find herself crying her eyes out in the middle of a crowded tavern, and the last thing that Macha Cousland the Grey Warden wanted was to look weak.

Gareth's eyebrow lifted when Macha mentioned a dragon. And then he listened to her tearful tale of the trials she endured to get to the Urn. And when she said that she saw Uncle Bryce's ghost, Gareth felt a pang of sorrow in his heart. He did smile though when Macha mentioned what Bryce had told her. "I'm sure he's been watching over you. The Maker granted him the opportunity to see you one more time to tell you how proud he was. Or it was something you ate." he said playfully.

He drained the rest of his ale and sighed. "I'm afraid my own adventures haven't been nearly as exciting. As I said before, the first thing I did after Howe's death was rebuild the castle. I gave the family proper funerals. Do not ask me what Arl Howe did to them even in death. I do not want to recount it. Suffice it to say, I put them to the rest they deserved." He paused, recalling the grisly task of taking their bodies down from the sky burials they were given. He remembered seeing red at that moment. "Afterwards, I rushed to Denerim to be there for the Landsmeet. When I made it, I saw everything that occurred between the Warden and Teyrn Loghain. I sided with the Wardens, naturally. And then the duel came, and then Loghain was killed.

"After that, I returned to Umoja to prepare my army to march on the Archdemon, White Steel armor glistened as we rushed to Denerim's aid when the Darkspawn Horde got there and many of us were killed in the initial attack. Your forces arrived two days later. I was fighting by the Docks District at the time. Maker's breath, Darkspawn are ugly." he sighed.

Macha's head bobbed gravely as she listened to Gareth's own tale, her eyes fixed on her now-empty mug. It seemed that her dear cousin had had no easy time of it, himself. But he was alive, and unmaimed, and that was all she could ask for, in the end. Her heart grieved for her aunt, and whether she believed in the Maker or not, she wished her swift delivery to heaven.

"You've been brave, cousin, and you've done much for this country. Umoja is lucky to have you as their leader, though my thoughts go out to Uncle. I pray that he finds his health soon." It would be too much to lose someone else, to lose another member of her family to something as common as illness, and not to sword or treachery. It was probably cruel of her to think that, she thought with a wry, unhappy smirk. "It does sound as if you have been busy, though. Has the Arling been doing well under your hand?"

Gareth was glad to get his story our of his system. It felt like a burden had been lifted. And he was thankful it was his cousin listening. Macha always listened to his stories, whether made up or not. This was all true and too painful to be a lie. "I am no hero. It is you Wardens who are. I am just serving my country by defending it from harm. We lost a lot of good men that day, and even more fine ladies I had yet to sweep off their feet. Father may not recover but in the case that he does, he'll probably talk my ear off about how I haven't married and given him grandkids yet." he rolled his eyes at the oft-repeated argument he had with his parents.

"Umoja has been alright, but Arl Howe cut off trade from Highever to Umoja so we had lost a lot of resources in the past two years. We're only just now picking up the slack with Fergus' help. I have a million and one things to do and I feel like my brain's going to explode. I was not born to lead, that was what you and Fergus were bred for. I was taught how to mingle, to negotiate." He said, banging his forehead against the table in a groan.

Macha huffed a laugh, the thought of her family bringing a quick, almost pained smile to her face. It seemed like it was impossible to talk about anything good without bringing up something bad, these days. She supposed she should be glad that there was anything good to say at all.

"You'll do fine, Gareth. You always manage - you're much better with that than I am." And it was true, too. She was awfully weak, when it came down to it. Without her friends or family around, she was little more than an empty shell of a person. Of course, it hardly mattered to live without people to live for, but that didn't make it any less of a bleak feeling.

"Have you been in Denerim long?" She asked, switching the topic to one that was easier for both of them. "I've been here a while, but I haven't seen you."