Disclaimer-- As much as I wish otherwise, I do not own DAO. I do not own any of the characters there-in, including the female Cousland origin character, though I would like to think my interpretation of her is my own. I do not own the environment, events, dialogue, etc. I expect and will receive nothing from this story but the joy of paying homage to excellence. (Imitation, after all, is sincere flattery.) Nonetheless, I do work hard on my little stories, and I love them. Please don't repost or reprint them without my knowledge. Further, like all fanfic writers, I am fueled by reviews. If you like and want more, please encourage me by telling me so. If you see something you dislike or think needs to be fixed, I will be happy to learn...but please be gentle!
Note-- This fic is a fragment of what or may not eventually become a longer, more comprehensive fic. If I waited until that fic was in a condition to post, I would never post at all, and I wanted to post.
I will probably add at least one chapter to this at some point in the future, but I'm not sure when that will happen.
It may help to know that in Elan's story arc, Alistair had no idea about what happened prior to Elan's arrival in Ostagar, just his own (good but incorrect) theory.
In Elan's story-arc, this story would be taking place right after the group has left the Circle Tower with the intention of approaching Redcliffe for the first time.
Fic Title Reference: Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend,Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behindWith whips and stings. --Nicholas Rowe
Chapter Title Reference: Failure is never quite so frightening as regret. — Cliff (Sam Neill from The Dish)
"Hunnh," Wynne yawned. "Rest would be welcome. It has been a long day."
Alistair and Elan watched her go. "You were right about her," Alistair mused. "She is a strong woman. Between the archdemon and the unfriendly beings of the Fade, I may never sleep again."
"Tell me about it," Elan said in fervent agreement.
"I'd say I'd tell you mine if you tell me yours, but...you've already seen mine, you know."
"Hmmm." Elan rubbed at the back of her neck. Alistair reached up and replaced her hand with his own. "I was at Weisshaupt. With Duncan."
"Huh." Alistair's hand stilled. "Isn't life funny. I dream of a family I don't have—"
"And I have a family I don't dream of?" It amazed her that the words could sound so simple.
Alistair had the good-grace to look sheepish. "Well...I...uh...I didn't mean...it's just...you didn't know him like I did..."
"That doesn't mean I don't mourn his loss," she said, the tears she hadn't shed for for her home or her family burning in her eyes. "I...it'sallmyfault," she said in a rush.
Alistair blinked. "What? What are you talking about?"
"I...wasn't doing my duty...as a Grey Warden."
"Elan? Are you delirious?" Alistair demanded, torn between concern and indignation. "You fought your way through a tower full of darkspawn so the signal could be lit. You nearly died in the process. You'd been a Grey Warden for less than a day! How is that anything less than doing your duty?"
"If I'd been...more vigilant...If I'd paid attention in that meeting...seen the signals Loghain and Uldred had to have been sending...I could have...I don't know...pointed them out? It might not have been enough to make the king change the battleplan, but maybe it would have been enough to put us—you and me...and Duncan—on our guard. I—we—might have gone to the Tower expecting trouble...If I hadn't let my guard down, let the darkspawn take me by surprise—"
"They took us both by surprise, you know," Alistair objected faintly, still looking startled.
"It wasn't your fault. But anyone who's studied stealth techniques as often and as long as I have should have been able to spot the signs from miles off. I didn't...and I'm sorry. I wish..." She stopped and took a shuddering breath, her eyes glittering as if she actually was feverish.
Alistair was looking about for Wynne. "Flemeth should have warned me not to let you overexert yourself. Or...you know...get caught in a dream where the very life is being sucked out of you. I wonder if this is a weird interaction between that dream and the Warden nightmares? That would explain why you dreamed about Duncan—"
Elan continued over him. "If you hadn't felt obligated to protect me—thanks for that, by the way, I'm not ungrateful, really—but...if my own stupidity hadn't made it necessary you—we—could have fought our way to—"
"I wish I was with him. In the battle," Alistair admitted with a sigh. "Maybe I could have done something." He raked the fingers of his free hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "But more likely, I'd just be dead. And Duncan wouldn't want that. It's not like that would make him happy...While I deeply regret not being at Duncan's side, I have never—never—regretted standing—staying—by yours."
Elan shifted away from him, just enough to look up into his face, her knees bumping his as they angled together. The warmth of his brown eyes eased some of the tension knotting her neck and shoulders, even as it renewed the tears that scorched her eyes. "Really? Duncan and the king—"
"I was overwhelmed, too, you know. I wasn't exaggerating when I said we'd be dead if not for Morrigan's mother...by the Maker, I thought I saw the burning archdemon itself coming for us as I fell. If you hadn't been there—if you hadn't fallen—I would still have been overwhelmed before I got out of the Tower. Do you think I don't know that? Don't you know that?" He dropped his hand from her neck to her far shoulder, pressing her toward him slightly in a gesture between an embrace and an attempt to shake some of her usual sense back to the surface.
Maybe Alistair was right. But Elan had the suspicion at the time, and she'd never shaken it since, that the king hadn't suggested the two of them at the spur of the moment. And that almost had to be because he'd decided to keep her out of danger. After all, if Fergus didn't come back, she was the last of her line...or she would have been if she had been Elan Cousland and not a Grey Warden. Duncan was aware of her feelings on the matter, and she'd almost expected him to voice the objection for her. But he didn't. Why? And why do I survive...even when my life has ended? Not once, but twice...Maker, it is unkind and unfair to make me suffer so. Especially when Al—others suffer too. "But...do you think..." That Duncan and the king would have sent you to the Tower if I hadn't been there?
"Duncan and the king only sent us to the Tower as a convenient excuse to keep a raw recruit out of battle? No. Absolutely not. Duncan knew you could handle yourself. They may have thought that was a nice benefit, but I believe—I know—that was not why Duncan agreed to send us. Even if it was why Cailan suggested it—which I doubt." Alistair said firmly.
He couldn't believe Elan had spent all this time blaming herself for something that...no, he didn't want to think about that, because if he thought of it, he'd think he really ought to tell her, and he really didn't want to do that. This conversation alone was proof enough of just how much trouble his very existence could –and did—cause. Routinely, no less. He stifled the urge to sigh.
Elan couldn't help feeling comforted. But, at the same time, she wondered if he'd be quite as sure Duncan and the king hadn't been trying to protect her if he knew why she had left Highever. Why she had joined the Wardens. She knew she ought to tell him. Part of her even wanted to, but she simply couldn't, because if she did she would fall apart at the seams, and she didn't think there was enough thread in all of Thedas to stitch her back together again.
Alistair would be frantic. She couldn't do that to him.
And she couldn't do it to herself. She couldn't think of the girl she had been. She had to think of the duty she had been given. The duty that must be done.