Author's notes: Hi! Welcome to my new story! I hope you'll like it!
This is based on a prompt from the cheeky monkeys forum. If you don't already know which challenge I'm talking about, I'm not gonna say until the end of the story, so as not to spoil the ending!
*This story now has a beta, the awesome, the fantastic, the amazing Epiphany Sola Gratia! You should absolutely do yourselves a favor and go check her work: http: / / www. fanfiction. net/ u/ 2610896/ (remove the spaces).
Alistair was slowly dragging his feet across the campsite, mumbling under his breath.
"Do this, do that, go there, be nice to the grumpy revered mother and the scary mage and the pompous recruit, but is anyone nice to me? Noooo… hardly seems efficient if I'm the only nice one…"
He kept his eyes on the ground, kicking stones and dirt as he grudgingly made his way to the elevated space where the mage was supposed to be. He stopped abruptly when the kicked stones hit a pair of worn leather boots. A pair of boots he knew only too well. "Oh sh…"
"Alistair." Duncan's voice held the familiar blend of amusement, worry and slight exasperation when he said his name.
"Heeey, Duncan, you're back! I was just on my way to deliver a message to the mages. From the revered mother. A very polite, very nice message about being friends."
"I see." Duncan sounded hardly convinced. "When you're done, come back to the campfire. Oh, I sent the new recruit after you. And Alistair…"
He recognized the look on his mentor's face.
"Oh, don't you dare tell me to…"
"Be nice."
"Ugh!" Alistair grunted. "I am nice! Any nicer and pink petals are going to come out of my mouth when I talk!"
"Even so. Be especially nice, then. She's… been through a lot."
Duncan walked away, leaving a slightly gaping Alistair behind.
"Hum… she's a she?"
He remembers the first time he saw her.
Ostagar. That cursed place was the home of so many memories, but this one was the only one Alistair cherished. If he had to remember all of the horrors of Ostagar for the rest of his life, just so he can keep the one memory of her walking up to him, he would gladly do so.
"She's so… small," he remembers thinking when he caught sight of her, his eyes drawn to the movement of her approach before coming back to the less pleasing sight of the mage he was arguing with. And she was, more so than any elf he had met before. He caught himself sneaking glances at her while the mage fumed needlessly at him.
"Maybe it is because of her armour," he thought.
The leathers were obviously not hers, probably made for a human. The straps were all tied to their tightest, giving the armour an odd shape around her body, and she still seemed to float inside it. The tip of the one-handed sword on her back was almost touching her calf. Even her pigtails were tiny, although she had many of them, sticking out in every direction around her head. She looked like a little girl trying to play at war.
She was waiting, silently, like someone who is used to not being noticed. He saw her gaze lower to the floor for no more than a second, then her head snapped back up with an air of defiance, and she looked at him. Her shoulders, once hunched like she was expecting to be struck, then straightened, and her chin went proudly up. She was like a little, scared girl that kept reminding herself she had to be brave.
He thought he was doing a pretty good job of being nice to the mage. So what if his voice sounded a bit like he was laughing on the inside? That was just the way his voice was. Surely nobody could fault him for that, right? Nobody could say that he wasn't nice, that's for sure.
He saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, but didn't stop speaking with the mage, even as he kept glancing back at her. Being nice had turned out to be quite fun, this time around. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted. Only when the mage threw his hands in the air in defeat and stomped away did he truly turn to get a good look at her.
"All right Ali. First impressions and everything. Say something clever. Witty. Funny."
"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."
"… wait, what? What does that even mean?"
He could have kicked himself. Another first impression went down the gutter. She looked at him, biting her lower lip, pondering that for a while. She seemed unsure of what to make of him, or even of how to stand in his presence. She had green eyes, he found out: big, green, uncertain, wary eyes… and freckles.
"You're a very strange human," she finally blurted out, and her eyes widened. Her hand twitched, as if she was about to clasp it over her mouth. He had the impression she was used to her mouth leading her into trouble. He knew the feeling all too well.
Alistair shrugged, trying to look nonchalant and having no idea if he succeeded.
"You're not the first one to tell me that," he continued blabbering after that. He was pretty sure he said something about a toad at one point.
"Maker…"
Only then did it occur to him that she might just be the new recruit he had to be extra nice to.
"Fantastic."
He remembers how she abruptly stopped as they got to the mabari kennels. When the kennel master asked her to muzzle one of them, she looked at him warily, as if she was suspecting some kind of trap.
"What makes you think I can do it?" she asked him.
As the master explained about tainted blood and Warden immunity, her eyes were fixed on the sick dog on the other side of the fence. The expression on her face went from tense and wary to one he could only describe as cautiously hopeful. It wasn't exactly lighting up, but it was the least guarded emotion she had shown up until then, and it made him want to see her… let her guard down more often.
She must have known what mabaris were, of course. She already knew they were generally a sign of prestige. She chewed on her lip, then reluctantly turned to him, indicating that he should be the one to do it. He shook his head, said something funny about not getting along with dogs, and had the satisfaction to see the glimmer of cautiously controlled longing in her eyes again.
He thought he could see her hands shake slightly as she entered the kennel. When the mabari submitted to her touch and she put the muzzle in place, he could hear her sigh. She promised to look out for some flower, out in the Wilds, that was supposed to help the dog recover.
She shot a last, lingering look to the sick animal before continuing on her way. Letting herself hope for things she thought she could never have.
He couldn't get over the way she rebuffed that Daveth guy.
He was the first recruit they ran into and the both of them had a quick chat, sizing each other up. She was curt, he stayed light, and she seemed oddly satisfied with him in the end.
"I'll watch your back if you watch mine," she finally told him, and it sounded like a prudent seal of approval on her part.
"Oh, I'll watch your back," Daveth answered, half-smiling cockily.
Alistair shook his head in embarrassment. At least it reassured him about his own stupid mouth…
Kallian's reaction, however, was completely different. She stilled, and slowly went pale.
"Or I could just kill you," she said, her voice flat.
"Hey, now, that's a little extreme, don't you think?" Daveth backed away, shooting Alistair a questioning glance, but the warrior was too astonished to be of any help to the poor guy.
He took a mental note never to playfully flirt with the tiny elf… ever.
He couldn't wait to see how she'd handle Ser Jory.
She didn't disappoint.
People kept accosting her rudely, calling her elf, asking her to do this or that. Each time, there was a second where he would see her recoil slightly, head bowed obsequiously, before pride and anger made her stand straight again. She informed each person that talked to her that way that she was not, in fact, a servant. The words were always polite, but the voice was often shaking with fury.
When he cautiously asked her if she was okay, hiding his concern behind some humorous remark, she just shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself. "Old habits die hard, I guess. Obedience kept me hidden and safe for so long. It seems I just don't know how to be free."
When the quartermaster asked her why she was dressed so preposterously, Alistair had half a mind to step between them and just punch him square on the nose.
She was just so tiny. He only wanted to protect her.
She needed protection.
He remembers when that thought went flying out the window.
Maker, she could fight.
In the wilds, she had been careful, using her weapons with caution. She'd kept glancing back at him, and he'd gotten the impression he was supposed to say something. He had risked a veiled compliment on her fighting skills, and only gotten a wary, angry glare in response, along with the coldest silent treatment he'd ever received. He'd shut up after that.
However, in the tower of Ishal with time running out and lives depending on them, she was unstoppable. No more caution, no more restraint. He could only stare and gape as she shoved her dagger deep into a genlock's chest, keeping him in place as her longsword came swooping up, decapitating the monster. She shook the dagger free and stepped forward, kicked the next assailant in the gut, whirled and slashed him across the chest with both her weapons. The darkspawn grazed her arm with his blade as he fell, but she didn't even seem to notice.
She didn't look small anymore.
As they made their way through the tower, running and killing, she had a cold, empty expression on her face that frightened him.
"Kill, kill, kill…" she breathed, again and again, never stopping, never hesitating, and all he could do was follow, trying not to let enemies surround her.
Okay, this was bad… real bad. He was storming this darkspawn-infested tower at full speed, and his knees were screaming at him to please stop running up stairs for just a second. Behind him, he could hear the mage wheeze, fighting for breath.
Wasn't he used to living in a tower? They probably didn't go running around the place all day long, though. That would be a stupid thing to do. So there was that.
Plus. You know. His new comrade-in-arms was crazy: the bloody, stabbing, scary kind of crazy, too.
All right, maybe not crazy… dedicated. Yes, that was a more positive spin on the situation.
Still, he ought to say something. She seemed completely lost to reality, as if she wasn't really there.
"I don't understand," he risked saying. "I thought the tower was deserted. Where did all of these darkspawn come from?"
She blinked through the blood that smeared her face and looked back at him. He could see her eyes slowly become more focused, less dilated. She looked down at her sword and dagger as if she was about to let them fall on the floor.
Uh-oh. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. What was wrong with her?
"Were… weren't you complaining that you didn't get to fight?" she answered him, clearly struggling for words.
The relief of having finally gotten through to her made him chuckle softly. "Hey, you're right! I guess there is a silver lining."
He saw her breathe in, breathe out, then she took a couple of careful steps in the circular room.
There were more darkspawn up ahead, of course, and he lost her to the bloodlust again.
"Oh, well. I'll think of something else to say before we reach the next floor. Maybe even something actually clever, this time…"
One could dream.
She rushed to the ogre as if he was just another hurlock. Alistair threw himself into the fight as well, determined to keep the monster's attention on himself. He succeeded all too well. The ogre grabbed him, shook him, breaking what seemed like every bone in his body, and threw him aside, where he very promptly lost consciousness.
He came to just in time to see her deal the killing blow. She was flying, he thought confusedly for a second, seeing her jump, shoving both her weapons inside the ogre's chest, keeping balance with her feet on the beast as he fell down. She jumped down the corpse and turned to look at him. She was wounded and bloody, breathing with difficulty through clenched teeth, her eyes crazed and full of rage.
And still her lips were moving. "Kill, kill, kill…"
The vision made his blood run cold.
She lit the beacon.
Then, merciful darkness engulfed him again.