Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age and all of it's epicness. A girl can only dream that she can own Alistair all to herself, can't she? Some of the dialogue comes directly from the game. This was originally posted at my LJ and the Alistair fan community, but considering I am used to using this site for other fandoms, I decided to post it here as well. Took a few days because I made a new name and the waiting period... but oh well, enough of that. Happy reading and reviews are always appreciated and will be reciprocated. :-)
Month: Eluviesta, Day 28
9:30 Dragon
I always wondered how I would ever escape Highever. Don't get me wrong – I loved the settlement and my home deeply. Yet the life of teyrn's daughter was not everything it was made out to be. Besides the king, the teyrns are seen as the most powerful of the nobility in all of Ferelden. Considering my father was one of only two in the entire land, it made for quite an interesting experience growing up.
Behind Denerim, Highever was the second most populated settlement and my father was its teyrn. People in town regarded myself and my brother Fergus as something of royalty. Neither of us liked the feeling, but he embraced it much more than I. While he was something of a public figure, I was more content to stay in the castle and dream of the future. I would lose myself in the written word and the teachings of our resident scribe Aldous. He always thought I never paid attention to his lectures – always too lost in my own thoughts. It was partially true, but I remember some of the history of our fledgling nation. I wish I could say it has helped me on this journey. Yet now I know that nothing could have prepared me for this.
The two teyrns of Ferelden are both no more: my father Bryce Cousland – killed by a trusted friend, and the war hero Loghain Mac Tir – now the regent successor of the dead King Cailan. The life that I foolishly wished to escape was forced from me because of these two actions. The girl who always dreamed of princes and dragons was now living the life in the flesh. In my head, everything seemed much more romantic. There were no cold nights, where you end up praying just to see the sun rise. There was not as much death and suffering. And of course, there was always a happy ending. From what I have witnessed so far, it doesn't seem like that is in the cards.
Summerday passed a few days back, but there was little festivity around. At Highever, my family always threw a lavish ball for the occasion. It does mark the beginning of the summer after all and for the people of Ferelden, that is always a reason for celebration. The coming months are the only time that the climate does not have a nip to the air… well, at least during the day that fact is true. There was no revelry this year – just more death and suffering. I think we were at Lake Calenhad at the time – trying to save the mages at the tower.
We did succeed in that endeavor, much to some of the templars' consternation. Not only is the normal relationship between mages and templars strained because of principles and duty, but when you add in blood mages and abominations, things will only get more tense. Saving the tower from the rampaging blood mage Uldred and his converted abominations was a big step in the right direction for Ferelden and the Grey Wardens' cause. We now have the actual beginnings of an army to aid in the battle with the darkspawn. If only the mages could help with the civil war that is brewing…
So much has happened and I wish I could write about it all. I wish that I had this parchment at the beginning of our journey. Now, recounting all I have been through would take more time than I have. I should be resting. We have a long day of walking tomorrow. Denerim is our destination, but we are still a few days away. We are on the West Road and have just camped outside the wreckage that was once Lothering. The settlement was never as thriving as many in Ferelden, with only around five hundred settlers, but it was an important stop for travelers of the Imperial Highway. Now, it is just another casualty of the Blight. I wished that there was more that could have been done to save the settlement and pray to the Maker that no more suffer the same fate. I know that with all the turmoil this Blight has caused that it is highly unlikely my prayer will be granted.
At least Redcliffe was saved – well, for the most part "saved." Arl Eamon is still ill. His condition is sending us to Denerim as we need to locate Andraste's ashes. It may be the only thing that can save him, so they say. Many believe the urn of her sacred ashes is a fable told to the faithful to keep them devoted. Others believe that it can be found. One of these committed followers is Brother Genitivi. He is part of the Chantry in Denerim and has some leads as to where this fabled urn lies. Hopefully, this trek to the east will be worth it and not a "total waste of time and effort."
That is Morrigan's thought on this venture. If it was up tour resident apostate, we would have gone right after Loghain as soon as we left the Wilds. That wasn't really an option, especially with his newly self-appointed regal position. He is the queen's father after all and the legendary Hero of River Dane. Damn, I wish that title could be erased from his legacy. After all he has done… after all he has caused. No – I will not spend my time writing about that man. He isn't worth it. Back to Morrigan then – since her first option was not possible, she agreed with the plan to investigate the Grey Warden treaties. Visiting Redcliffe was not part of that agenda. And now that that venture is taking us on a long trek back to the east, she is not the happiest camper (not like she ever truly is).
Denerim will be more than just a visit to the Brother however. It will be a good chance for us all to regroup and restock. We are running low on many supplies and without Lothering as a stopover, the visit to the capital will be quite essential. Since our party has grown in size since our last restocking at Lake Calenhad, it is quite imperative that we get there quickly. Morale is already down after the trip to Redcliffe, I really don't want it to slip any lower.
Leliana is still quite cheerful, but I think that is just her overtly religious background shining through. The bard says that she was sent on this quest by the Maker himself, after all. And if she truly believes in that vision of hers, then she must think that all of this misery is part of a bigger plan.
Morrigan never truly factors into the group morale. She doesn't camp near the rest of us, opting for her own fire pit and tent yards away. Her spells are quite useful in battle, but her attitude and opinions can cause schisms in the dynamics of the group… especially if a certain former templar is present. I am not sure why she is still with us. Her mother is the one who sent her on this quest after all. She didn't ask to join… but still she travels and even follows my haphazard lead. Quite odd.
Wynne never seems to be downhearted, but keeps to herself most of the time. The spirit healer is usually reading near her tent or mending some clothes that may have been torn on the journey. She is a good voice of reason and keeps me levelheaded in some of the stressful situations that have presented themselves since her arrival. I haven't gotten the chance to know her too well, but I am sure that will be remedied soon.
Sten is a no nonsense warrior who doesn't care at all for idle chatter or campfire gossip. He – like Morrigan – would rather spend his time alone. When we do talk, it is short and very blunt. He has already questioned my leadership twice – both times because of my gender. I guess the qunari have never heard of a female soldier before. I try to get more from him about his people and his journey to Ferelden, but he doesn't think it is necessary. It won't stop me from trying again.
Zevran is the newest member of the group… just joined two days ago, actually. Well, maybe "joined" isn't the correct word. A failed assassination attempt left his life in my hands and when I spared him, he swore whatever loyalty he may have to me and the Grey Wardens' cause. I'm not sure what the elf's true intentions are. He seems reasonable enough, but having an assassin in the party has caused some to be extra careful in every aspect of camp life. And his presence has already made for much more colorful fireside chats… definitely a positive in his favor. It takes some of my attention away from the final member of the group.
Where to begin… Ostagar would probably be the appropriate place as that is where we first met. But so much has changed from that day… from strangers to… well, I don't know what. Comrades? Friends? More than friends? It's hard to define our relationship. As the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, we have a responsibility to end the Blight. That is our main objective. That is what we should be focusing on. But there are times when all of the overarching problems of the world seem to melt away and there is only us.
In the beginning, the dreams of the darkspawn were too great for me to stand. Side effect of the Joining, as becoming a Grey Warden means you actually become connected to those soulless beings. He would stay up with me. Whether it was in silence or in conversation, it didn't matter. He was there. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged… like I had a purpose. Even at Highever, I was never fully sated. My life was defined by my parents' titles. I do miss many aspects of that life, but I am embracing this new freedom (and trying my best not to dwell on the tragedy that occurred). I am bound by my oath to the Grey Wardens, but free from the scrutiny of the Ferelden nobility. At the tender age of nineteen, I was headed for a political marriage and courtly aspirations. Now, that fate seems to no longer fit.
With the complete purging of my old life as a "lady" in the Highever nobility, I have found somewhere I fit in and it feels right. And the more I adapt to the life of a Grey Warden, the more I depend and lean on the one person who understands all I am going through. I never was good at relationships other than those that were the obligatory familial. Maybe that is why Leliana and I get along so well. She is like the sister I never had. When I speak with her, things come naturally. With Alistair, it takes a lot of work… which is odd since we have spoken to each other more than anyone else in camp. Our conversations aren't forced, but I have to keep my wits about me so as not to step over the line of friendly companionship and mild flirting. I can't step over that line… even though I may want to. No, I "know" I want to, but...
"What'cha writing?"
The quill streaked a long black line across the velum page, marring some of the words I had just written. Even though much of the ink was still damp, I pressed the leather-bound book shut before looking up to meet his gaze. Hazel eyes that appeared to glitter in the fire's light – they seemed to bore into the core of my being. If I continued to gaze upon him any longer, I knew I would be tongue-tied when I opened my mouth. I turned my attention to the flickering flame in front of me before replying.
"Just jotting down some thoughts."
The statement came out much more firm than I had planned, but it truly wasn't anything new. Ever since the two of us began skidding along the line of a more romantic relationship, my demeanor around him had changed. If Alistair had picked up on it, I certainly wasn't aware. It should have been obvious. Instead of speaking about "licking lampposts", I was much more content to just strategize about the coming day. My tone had changed from amusement to authoritative, yet he didn't seem to care.
"Some thoughts?" he questioned, sitting down a few inches from my spot in front of the campfire. "You've been writing furiously for quite some time."
"And so?" I countered coolly, not sparing one glance in his direction, hoping he would get the hint that this wasn't a time for playful banter.
"So… it's just new is all," he answered after only a slight hesitation.
I sensed a slight drop in his joviality, probably due to my uncouthness. Yet this was how it had to be, I told myself. I needed to stay focused on my mission. I needed to uphold my family's name and have some good come out of this mess. I knew there were some pretty lofty expectations, but I needed to at least try. Getting distracted with affairs of the heart would only end in disaster.
"The reason for that is I just procured these items from Lady Isolde," I stated in a lofty tone, fiddling with the feather in my hand. I knew Alistair hated when the nobles put on airs. I hoped that maybe this would finally disenchant him from our conversations, something I had yet been able to do. It was becoming too hard not to slip back into relying on him for some sunshine in my life. "This seemed as good of an idea as any to pass the time at night."
"Still can't sleep?" he asked, genuinely concerned. He really wasn't making this easy for me. "I know that they say the dreams are worse for those who join during a Blight, but I would have thought you could have been able to block them out by now."
"And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked indignantly, turning my gaze to him once more. He jumped slightly at the harshness of my tone.
"No – please, don't take it the wrong way," he said, nervously smiling as he seemed to hope I was not offended. "I didn't mean it like that. I was… what I meant to say was since it has been some time since the Joining, I would have assumed you would no longer be too susceptible to them."
"If you must know, I haven't had a vision in more than a week," I muttered, as I turned to look at the closed book in my lap.
I knew that I could have continued to push him away further. A few more bitchy statements like that and I was sure I would rival Morrigan on the negative attitude scale. But he was too caring for me to do so. The oath that I swore to Duncan had given me freedom from the nobility, but tied me to a cause. My growing affections for Alistair were beginning to show a flaw in my prospects as a Grey Warden. I had a duty as one of the only two remaining Ferelden members of the order to uphold the honor and self-sacrificing nature that made up the Grey Wardens' motto.
"That's great," he said cheerfully, obviously hoping to lighten the tone of the conversation and revive the warm nature that our conversations once shared. "Isn't it great? Or did you like having contact with our soulless opposition? You miss their constant rumblings during the night, is that it?"
His lighthearted yet sarcastic tone brought a glimmer of a smile to my lips. I knew he saw it because he lightly laughed. He had broken me once more. No matter how many walls I would build up, it seemed he could always find a way to knock them down.
"I don't think I need to answer that question," I replied, smiling and meeting his gaze once more.
"Wasn't looking for an answer, really," he murmured. "But there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if you could spare a minute?"
"Sounds serious," I mused, to which he shook his head.
He broke our gaze to look into the flames of the campfire. It was quite common to see him this exact way in fact – lost in thought while staring into the blaze. Not like all I did was watch him, but sometimes I would wonder what was going on in his head. He was quite an introverted person; that was one of the reasons I doubted he ever would want to lead the group during our travels. I told him he should lead, being the senior member of the Wardens, but he's content to follow. He has many of the qualities to be a great leader though, if only he would break out of his shell. Yet that would also make him lose a part of what I cherish so much about his presence (whether I want to admit it or not) – a soothing innocence that is scarcely seen in this war torn era.
"You know, maybe this isn't the best time to be thinking about this, but I've got something to ask you," he said, refusing to look away from the fire. "Seeing as Denerim is next on the itinerary for this trip, when we're there I wonder if we might be able to look someone up."
"You have a friend outside the Grey Wardens?" I asked, causing him to sigh forlornly. He turned to me with a pensive look, as if he was unsure if he wanted to continue.
"I'm not talking about a friend exactly…" And before I could even begin to contemplate the meaning of the statement, he continued. "And no, it's not that sort of friend either."
"The thing is… I have a sister – a half sister," he said. Before I could remind him about our trip into the Sloth Demon's dimension in the Fade, he continued on. "I told you about my mother, right? She was a servant at Redcliffe Castle and she had a daughter… only I never knew about her. I don't think she knew about me either. They kept my birth a secret, after all. But after I became a Grey Warden, I did some checking and… well, I found out she still alive… in Denerim."
"Have you contacted her?" I asked, deciding against reminding him about the nightmares we all encountered at the Tower.
"No, I thought about writing her, but I never did," he answered dejectedly. "And then we were called down to Ostagar and I never got the chance. She's the only real family I have left; the only family not also mixed up in the whole royal thing."
With a sigh, he looked up at the stars above. As I was beginning to feel comfortable among my companions, Alistair was always longing for a true familial connection. When he spoke of Arl Eamon, there was always a wistful tone of what might have been had he been truly accepted into the fold by Isolde. Maybe he would have never been sent to the Chantry… then he could have had the family he always dreamed for. Whether he wanted to believe it or not, the arl still held feelings of affection for him. I had the proof of that conviction in my pack.
Eamon had kept and even fixed Alistair's amulet. After Conner was freed from the demon's possession – thanks in large part to the First Enchanter and the Circle – Isolde apologized to me in private for her behavior in the days prior. She had only acted as any good mother would, but she wanted to speak her piece. It was quite fortunate that we had our discussion in her husband's study; for it was there that I found the amulet. It was lying on the desk. When my gaze fell upon it, the arlessa told me that she believed it belonged to Alistair. She let me take it along with some writing materials to keep myself occupied on the long journey. She said it was very least she could provide for all we were doing for her and Ferelden.
"I've just been thinking that… maybe it's time I went to see her," Alistair continued, still meditating on what it would be like to find his blood relative. "With the Blight coming and everything, I don't know if I'll ever get another chance to see her. Maybe I can help her, warn her about the danger. I don't know."
He sounded like the whole cause was hopeless. What was I supposed to say? Even if I was trying to distance myself from the man, I couldn't deny him this. He deserved a family and it seemed he saw this as his one and only shot.
"If you want to, we could try."
"Could we?" he asked with anticipation, turning to me with a small hint of a smile on his lips. "I'd appreciate that. If something happened to her and I never went to at least see her, I don't know if I could forgive myself. Her name is Goldanna and I think she remarried but still lives just outside the Alienage."
"Just remind me when we're there," I said with a small smile.
He nodded his head in thanks once more before turning to look at the silent camp. Everyone had long since retired to their tents. Even my loyal hound Serenity was passed out. Normally the dog's barking could be heard throughout our time spent at camp. The times of silence were indeed golden.
"Well, I'm on watch tonight," he stated, stretching his arms over his head. "Better get to… um, watching."
I wondered why he was still clad in his splintmail. I had lost track countless times of the scheduled guard duties. That was Sten's one major responsibility at the campsite. He was in charge of delegating the nightly watches. I figured it was best to have the sternest member of the group in charge of that duty. Even though I was the titular leader, giving orders was not truly my forte. I was learning to become more forceful with each passing day, but a lot of it was just bravado. To me, I would rather be the glue holding the group together rather than the one leading them into danger. No such luxury I'm afraid, so I tried my best to deviate some of the accountability.
As he made to rise, I decided now would be as good a time as any to give him the amulet. We left Redcliffe a day ago, but I didn't know how to spring it on him. First off, I was trying to distance myself from the former templar and secondly, how could I bring it up? Just hand it to him and scurry away? He would want to talk about how it came into my possession, I was quite certain.
"Wait," I said hastily to stop him from rising. He looked at me amusedly to which I nervously chuckled. I sounded much too eager… too much like a lovesick teenager (which wasn't that far from the truth). The feelings were peaking through the cracks that our previous conversation had made in my resolute wall of coldness. "I have something for you. Wait right here."
I placed my writing implements that were still in my lap on the ground and headed hastily to my tent. I quickly pulled open my pack and rummaged through the small leather pouch in the side pocket. I pulled the amulet from its confines and turned back toward the fire. I watched Alistair's head flit between focusing on the flame and the closed book near his feet. I didn't need to see his eyes to know the temptation they held. He wanted to read what I had been so defensive about sharing. I slowly made my way back to my seat, enjoying the show far too much. Just as he was about to succumb to his curiosity, I had made it to his side.
"I think that this belongs to you," I said as I sat once more, handing over the amulet to its rightful owner. He grasped the cool metal in his hands and stared wondrously upon it.
"This… this is my mother's amulet," he said, as his eyes scanned every detail of the pendant. "It has to be. But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"
His questions came out hurriedly, like a child who was too impatient to wait for the ending of a good story. I smiled as he kept his gaze on the recovered heirloom, hoping the answers would bring him a sense of family he never thought existed in his life.
"I found it in Redcliffe Castle – in the study," I replied, hoping that would be enough for him to realize its implications. It seemed to work as his eyes lit up even more and his gaze fell upon mine.
"Oh, the arl's study? Then he must have… found the amulet after I threw it at the wall," he said in a slightly bewildered tone. "And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand – why would he do that?"
I didn't know anything about Alistair's relationship with the man… other than what he told me. That wasn't much, as with the Arl being ill, it wasn't a topic I wanted to address more than I had to.
"Perhaps you mean more to him than you think."
"I… guess you could be right," he mused, turning his attention back to the amulet in his hands. His expression turned much somber, but he continued on. "We never really talked that much, and then the way I left…"
All of my plans about staying clear of Alistair and his affections were beginning to crumble. He looked at me with an expression that could've even melted the ice off of the Frostback Mountains. I felt my sturdy "just friends" resolve dissolve in the blink of an eye.
"Thank you. I mean it," he implored genuinely. "I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity."
"You're welcome."
"I'll need to talk to him about this if he recovers from his… when he recovers, that is," he said in a nervous yet resolute manner. Nothing was truly certain, but without faith, all was lost. That seemed to be the maxim of this adventure that everyone was coming to believe in. "I wish I had this a long time ago."
He undid the clasp and fastened the amulet around his neck. Even through all of the despair that was plaguing this journey, there seemed to always be a small contingent of happiness. I just wished that sooner rather than later, the good would come to outweigh the bad. With Loghain in power and the oncoming Blight, that didn't seem possible.
"Did you remember me mentioning it?" Alistair asked, breaking me from my own internal musings. I just nodded my head, not trusting my voice. "Wow – I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things."
I flinched slightly at his statement. It wasn't said with any hint of malice, but I couldn't help but think it was a slight jab my way. Ever since the Tower – when I finally began to comprehend the type of evil we were facing – I kept my focus on the task at hand. That was when I formulated the "Stay Away from Alistair" plan. There was too much that I didn't know about the world – all the evil that I was sheltered from in Highever. If I met Alistair under different circumstances, I told myself that things could've been different.
This monumental task that is in front of us is one we cannot fail. Personal issues cannot interfere with the greater good of Ferelden… of Thedas. But selfishly, I am slightly happy for the Blight – because it led me to him. Ugh… I shouldn't be thinking that way, but it just is becoming so hard to resist.
"Of course I remembered," I finally replied softly. I tried to compose my next statement cautiously, but the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You're special to me."
I watched as his expression changed from gratitude to contentment to… humor? He laughed slightly before taking my hand in his.
"Is this the part where the music starts and we begin dancing because I'm game," he said in jest. "Where's the minstrels?"
He continued to laugh as I looked at our entwined hands. They seemed to fit well together. Both calloused, tainted, yet still righteous. It was these moments that I wished could last forever. Something as simple as this – the moments that aren't read about in legends or sung about in bard's tales: the quiet moments of utter innocent bliss. As much as I seem to push him away, he always finds his way back. I wish I could be sure that that will hold true forever, that I will never lose sight of him in the upcoming crusades.
"Here, look at this."
I looked at his outstretched hand and furrowed my brow in confusion.
"Do you know what this is?"
Of course I knew what it was. I didn't think that that question validated an actual serious response. I chuckled and looked at his pensive gaze.
"Is that a trick question?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes, absolutely," he said in the same sardonic tone. "I'm trying to trick you. Is it working? Oh, just about had you, didn't I?"
We both fell into a quiet laughter. This was how our banter used to be. I never realized how much I actually missed these times. It had only been a week or so, but still… the gloomy haze was beginning to lift from my psyche.
"Oh, yes – you're wily," I responded, continuing along with the joke.
"Nefarious even," he stated, before breaking out his best wicked laugh. It ended up breaking up into a coughing fit which had the same desired effect – my smile beamed from my lips. He turned to me with a serious look and I could tell the joking was being put aside… at least for the time being. "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."
He stared down at the slightly withered flower in his hand when he finished. I waited a few moments for him to continue, but he stayed silent. He seemed to be contemplating the bud's existence. I was set to let him ponder some more – it wasn't like I didn't enjoy the view. But I was curious as to where this conversation had even stemmed from.
"That's a nice sentiment," I lightly commented, which pulled him from his musings.
"I thought that I might… give it to you, actually," he said with only a little assurance in his tone. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."
"You think of me as a gentle flower?"
It was the first thing that came to my mind. I didn't want to prolong the silence, but I didn't want to sound like an utter fool. It seemed like the latter had come true however.
"A gentle flower?" he said whilst chuckling. "No… I don't know that I'd put it that way."
I wouldn't have thought that way either… but I didn't want to just accept his expression of affection. Maybe I was a "gentle flower" back at Highever, but things had certainly changed. I may have been trained in combat – trying to mimic my beloved father and brother's skills – but I still had an air of softness. I was a "lady"… no one outside of the castle truly knew of my skill in swordplay. Now, I was known as my new title – Grey Warden. Nothing gentle about that…
"I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it?" he posed, trying his best to move past the awkwardness that ruled over us. "I just thought… here I am doing all this complaining and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining – not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy."
It seemed as if we were in tune with each other's thoughts. With all of the seriousness and gloom in the air, it was hard to think that anything good could come out of the Blight. I wanted to stay in the darkness, figuring as that was my duty. My oath was all I had left. My home and family were taken from me and if the Cousland name were to live on, I wanted to forge a new yet still proud identity. But was all of that worth sacrificing what might be my one change for true happiness?
"I thought maybe I could say something," Alistair continued, as our eyes locked in a tender gaze. "Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this... darkness."
The urge to give into the affectionate sentiment of his gift was overtaking me. I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and admit that I felt the same way about him. Flip-flop… flip-flop… would I ever make up my mind? If I kept leading him on, I would definitely lose him… but isn't that what I want?
"So… are we married now?"
I wanted to reach up and slap a hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe what I had just uttered. When he pulled our entwined hands apart, I had thought I had effectively pushed him away this time – and for good. But he once again surprised me…
"Ha-ha! You won't land me that easy, woman," he said mockingly but with a grin on his face. "I know I'm quite the prize, after all, no need to start crying on me or anything."
I laughed and thought that my stupid comment was long forgotten. Alistair's joking demeanor was sometimes a true godsend. But it seemed just when I was in the clear, his face fell serious once more and he turned his gaze to brood over the blood red bloom that was still within his grasp.
"I guess it was, uh, just a stupid impulse," he muttered softly, in a way that seemed to denote it was directed to him, not me. "I don't know – was it the wrong one?"
"Maybe not," I said quickly. He smiled, turning to me while handing me the flower. I took the delicate item from his hand, lightly tracing the slightly withered petals with my finger. "It's cute."
"Cute? Cute!? Just what I was aiming for" came his loud sarcastic reply. I quickly shushed him and gestured to the silent tents around us. He chuckled with a shake of his head. "Ow – you could just… stab me in the face first before you say something like that, Tess."
My cheeks blushed slightly at the name that rolled off his tongue. Tess… it was his nickname for me since Lothering. It was then that we talked briefly about my life in Highever. Lady Theresa Cousland was eradicated from Ferelden society the night Arl Howe and his men laid siege to my family's castle. When I spoke of this, Alistair suggested I start anew, complete with a new name to fit my altered reality. With a name like Tess, I wasn't totally forsaking my past, but looking toward my future as a Grey Warden. And maybe my future with him? That thought did little to make the color drain from my cheeks.
"I'm glad you like it," he continued. "Now, if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing, stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."
I chuckled and turned to face him. He had a teasing smirk on his lips and I couldn't resist rising to the occasion.
"Sounds good," I mused, reaching forward to lightly rub the petals of the rose along the plane of his chest plate. His eyes watched as the delicate petals skimmed the gleaming metal. "Off with the armor, then."
When the rose's trail was finished down the plate, I pulled my hand back. His nervous chuckle was music to my ears. He was still Alistair… no matter how many travesties we witnessed, I could still count on him to keep me simple and clean. No matter how much the darkspawn's blood would taint our bodies, there was still something so pure in what was building between us. Maybe that was what scared me most of all… that some of the darkness surrounding us would find a way to taint it.
"Bluff called," he joked. "Damn, she saw right through me."
"Coward," I murmured with a faux pout plumping out my lips.
I watched his gaze shift my eyes, to my lips, then a little lower… it was as if he just realized I was clad in only a simple tunic and skirt. No heavy leather armor blocking my womanly form from his eyes. He chuckled timidly and quickly darted his gaze, jumping up from his seat.
"I'll be standing over here," he said as he walked over to his post. "Until the blushing stops… just to be, uh, safe. You know how it is."
I watched as he sat down yards away from the warmth of the fire. I figured his armor was keeping him safe from the chill of the wind… and I had to consciously fight my mind from drifting to thoughts about other ways to keep his body warm during these long, cool summer nights.
As I went to stand, I glanced down at my forgotten makeshift journal. I opened the book to my writings and took in the blotched page. I can't step over that line… even though I may want to. No, I "know" I want to, but...
But… things had now changed. It was funny that in a matter of a few moments everything began to become much clearer. The haze was lifting and priorities were being formed. I picked up my quill and dipped it in the small palette of ink. I turned to a clean page and in big letters scrawled out the nine words that had come to define my existence:
In war, victory. In peace, vigilance, In death, sacrifice.
I stared at the word "sacrifice" for quite some time before finally writing five words in just as large print below the motto:
Neither of us can see.
What we had started would probably end in sacrifice. It was emblazoned in every Grey Warden's heart. But I was beginning to believe it was worth the risk. I wanted to experience love at least once in my life. This was my chance. Neither of us can see what is in the future. Neither of us can see if we will last. But in my heart and finally in my mind, I believed that it was worth the risk. I may be selfish, but I could not sacrifice a chance at love.