My Warden (COMPLETED)

Belief

9:44 Tevinter-Anderfells

Cullen watched as Fenris tried to dodge away from the king's royal hand extended either in friendship or because Alistair was trying to wipe off something on his palm. Eventually, the elf gave in, a bronto like snort huffing out of his nose as Alistair pumped their joined hands up and down like a waterspout.

"This has been an excellent partnership. We are on the way to the Anderfells, right? It's past that bridge you pointed at?"

"Yes," Fenris yanked his hand back and glowered at it. On the plus side, his tattoos didn't light up so maybe even he was growing accustomed to the king's exuberant nature. "Thank you, for your help."

"What's a few dead slavers between friends?" Alistair shrugged. "We ready to head onward?" He turned to Cullen who nodded in return. It'd been a trying march west, but oddly satisfying as well. Even if...their mission did not end well, at least some good came from his visiting Tevinter.

The elf nodded tersely at his remaining crew and as one they circled back into the Imperium leaving king, templar, and mabari alone at the creaking bridge. Spanning across a vast canyon between countries, the bridge was painted in reds and golds with a griffin statue looming over the top crossbeam in the middle of the divide. Beyond wafted grassland that looked much the same to what was behind them, but the landscape itself loomed ever upward, the distant mountains jagged and imposing for anyone without wings.

"Should we draw lots to see who goes first or run it really fast together?" Alistair asked. He'd stripped off most of his armor again, but a well crafted wool cloak hung about his shoulders. The trim was done in gold thread and a mabari emblem graced the back, all but giving away the owner. It was the first sign of royalty the man had shown their entire trip.

"I will take the lead," Cullen said. Rolling his pack and shield to the other side of his shoulder he patted his leg for Honor to follow.

"Ah, I was hoping it'd come down to a game of crosses and naughts. I'm great at it, held almost all my challengers to a standstill."

Cullen snorted at the idea and eased onto the first board. Nothing crashed down around him, no planks scattered to the winding dry creek below, and the bridge itself barely even shifted. It seemed as steady as a rock to cross. He turned around to inform the king, but the man was already behind him smiling wide as he stared down at the drop below. "How far do you think that is?"

"Deep enough you'd have to take a breath in the middle of screaming," Cullen said as he began crossing to the other side.

The king hung off the bridge's guide ropes a moment longer, staring down as if he could judge the distance himself. "What do you think would hurt more, falling from a great height or being crushed by a rock?"

"I..." Cullen paused as he looked up at the griffin guarding the entrance or informing people of who ruled the Anderfells, "depends. How large is the rock?"

"Hm, big enough to crush someone."

"If death is the end point, would pain matter either way?" Beyond the bridge he spotted the beginnings of the Anderfells. It wasn't the fabled steppes that looked like the bones of the earth stripped to their flesh and exposed to the desiccating air of the west - grey and churning, each shoulder of the mountain visible with barely any foliage clinging to life. Here, yellow grass danced in the distance on ground flat as a pancake while a mountainous hill claimed the horizon beyond.

"What about being eaten by a dragon? That one's got to hurt. Or worse. What if she swallows you whole?!" Alistair's chatter continued from behind, his fingers skimming along the rope as he tried to sway the bridge.