Author's Note: This is my first writing project in several years. Something I once enjoyed doing and have only recently found time for again. Reviews would be appreciated. This version of Cousland is perhaps a bit unusual, and I hope it's not too difficult to understand. I intend to fill in some back story eventually, and I've got several chapters waiting for 'final draft' treatment. I really like all the characters in DA and I hope when I write them, I don't mangle them too badly. I like to use a lot of in-game dialog, but you'll notice it's somewhat out of context. Well, it sounds like something they'd say because they -did- say it. Anyway, let me know what y'all think. Don't spare my feelings.
Ravenna was tired, and half hypnotized by the rhythmic sound and motion of sharpening her sword. Today she had been hard on the blade, and she had been putting off keening the edge for too long anyway. She didn't hear Alistair approach, and wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, watching her in the growing dusk before he said anything.
"I need to talk to you, Rave." The steel in his voice and the direct statement seemed confident and commanding, but she thought she detected a note of pleading.
She flicked her gaze to his face. Or maybe not pleading. He looked... intent.
"Nothing has changed." He didn't acknowledge that she said anything. "I'm listening." she said with a resigned sigh.
"Privately." he clarified. She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off."Soon. I'll be waiting over there." He indicated a fallen log near the edge of camp and turned on his heel.
She watched his retreating back for a moment before returning to her blade and silently berated herself for not being better prepared. Of course he would want to talk about things, she should have been strategizing, assembling her arguments. As much as she hated to admit it, instead she had been trying as hard as she could to not think about him at all. These things had always been so simple for her. Charming men to her bed, taking what she wanted from them and moving on without a second thought. He was different though. This had been so much like the first time... but she didn't want to admit that either. It frightened her in so many ways to think that she had been caught in the same trap that nearly destroyed her once before.
When Alistair told her outside Redcliffe that he'd been keeping something from her, something probably not important but that she deserved knowing, her heart raced as she listened and recognized her way out. It was a way out that was his fault, not because of her fear and the ragged scars of her past. She pretended to be hurt and betrayed and said she couldn't trust him. Or maybe she didn't pretend those things, she had been hurt and betrayed and she never trusted her lovers. She controlled them, then discarded them. But none of it was his fault, and that was what she pretended. It nearly broke his heart, but with his sense of honor and duty and his oh-so-high morals, he felt guilty enough that he believed what she said: He was mistrustful and thus, untrustworthy. It nearly broke her heart to make him believe it, but she was afraid if she didn't end it then, she wouldn't be able to find another way out.
Hearing the determination he spoke with, and seeing the same in his eyes, she worried about what he 'needed to talk' about. She had confided in him, so many things she'd never spoken aloud to another soul, but still she had kept the core of most of it to herself. She wanted to share it all with him, but she was terrified he would see her and reject her. Could he have seen through her excuse to push him away?
With those thoughts, Ravenna decided her course of action. As much as she might have longed to reconcile, to confide in him once more and then take him to bed, she wouldn't allow herself to. It didn't matter what Alistair was intending to say, he wouldn't get to say it. Instead, she would answer the unvoiced questions that had been in his eyes when he confronted her about Zevran. She had not lied, the assassin didn't mean anything to her and she didn't intend to pursue anything further with him, but she doubted he would be able to listen to why she chose to spend a night with him. Given his dislike for the elf, she doubted she would even finish speaking before he stormed away. On the off chance she did get through it, she could always tell him the details he declined to hear when she admitted to having had "her share and then some" when he asked her innuendo-laden questions about lamp-posts in winter.
Satisfied with the edge, she wiped her newly sharpened blade with an oiled rag and packed up her files, whetstone and oiled cloths. She sheathed the blade and set it with her small shield and armor. Leave it here, remove the temptation to take the easy way out of this, she thought with grim humor. She still had her utility dagger and wasn't helpless by any stretch, though lack of armor made her feel vulnerable. No matter, she wasn't going into battle, just a little way into the forest, and she didn't expect this to take long. She drew a steadying breath and walked to the edge of camp.
Alistair had been watching Ravenna since they got back to camp, trying to work up the nerve to go speak to her. Ravenna was in the right to be angry with him. There were opportunities he didn't take to tell her about his parentage, but he hadn't meant to deceive her. He meant it when he said he was afraid of telling her because he didn't want it to change anything. The irony that it was not telling her that drove her away was yet more proof of what a sodding idiot he was. He was angry at himself for being a fool and for being too cowardly to try to correct his mistake before now. Ravenna looked sad and tired in the failing light, and finally he found himself walking toward her. He hadn't been intimidated by her before Redcliffe, and she hadn't changed much since they had been lovers, he reasoned.
He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to say, but he had to tell her how he felt. He had to try to win her trust back, and the only way he could think of was to talk and show her that he trusted her. He looked up when the soft, ringing scrape of her whetstone ceased. The light was bad but it seemed her hands were trembling very faintly as she tested the edge and stowed her gear. Was she afraid? Nervous, excited maybe? Perhaps he had a chance to win her back if he played his cards right.
"Let's walk a bit," she suggested when she got to the fallen log, "this is hardly private." He nodded and followed her away from camp. He tried to collect his thoughts and compose exactly what he would say, to little avail. Camp was out of sight and earshot now. He drew a breath and gently grabbed her elbow.
"This isn't getting easier. Let's..." He began.
"I wish you'd let things be, Alistair," she interrupted. "Since you can't," she drew a breath, dead calm now that she was back in control, "I need to tell you some things." He was tempted to interrupt, but instead he rested his weight on a nearby boulder and nodded. He would show her that he could be trusted, that she could still confide in him...
"I kept some details from you when you asked me about Zevran and I," she began, and his face darkened, "I meant everything I said, but... what better way to test his loyalty than to spend the night, vulnerable, in his tent?"
It took a moment to sink in. "No, stop. You didn't, you said he didn't... when?" He felt like the world was crumbling around him. She meant so much to him and she'd been sleeping with that murdering wretch the whole time? But that didn't make sense, he'd been with her every night since he finally accepted her invitation to her tent until she suddenly broke everything off between them, "You couldn't have."
His reaction pained her, but she refused to let it show. Instead she smirked at him and scoffed at his disbelief, "Oh I couldn't? I surely did, and at the first opportunity that presented itself. He's practically an artist, and I have to say it was thrilling not knowing if he was going to poison me or cut my throat. I was surprised to wake up in the morning," Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, "and even more by how he woke me."
She was choosing her words to cut at him! He clenched his hands into fists and turned away, he couldn't look at her, "Please stop. I don't understand why you're doing this. I thought we meant something to each other."
Ravenna just looked at him, saying nothing. She would drive him away, but not with outright falsehoods. His nails were digging into his palms painfully and he could feel himself trembling slightly with hurt and rage. He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself enough to speak. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper, "Why did you hide it? And how can you say I was the one to betray you when you intentionally mislead me about this?"
"There's more."
"Don't tell me. I don't want to hear it."
"That's what you said before, but I insist. You know I've taken several lovers before you, but I suspect you think that means a handful... You're so naive sometimes. I bet you heard rumors about me, you just didn't know it was me they were talking about. You probably thought it was just a revitalized folk tale. Can you guess what they call me?" This was it. He hadn't hit her or run away yet, but surely this would turn him away from her. Her heart was in her throat, waiting to deliver the final blow.
By this point he felt like it was a bad dream. The woman he thought he knew and who had claimed to love him was enjoying mocking and hurting him. He was practically in a daze. But she'd asked him a question... Rumors and gossip or tall tales... about Highever probably. Then he had it. There was talk of a warrior woman, a fury who rode into battle with the soldiers of Highever, then claimed the bravest warriors who survived battle to her bed. "Alaisiagae of the Coastlands? No, that's just a story. You aren't like that."
She sneered at his denial, "Like what? You've seen me fight, and you know why I learned to wield a blade. I've been going on patrols with my brother for years. Not 'riding into battle' exactly, but close enough." She leaned close and dropped her voice to a sultry whisper, "And you know how much fighting makes me want to fuck." She thought she saw his cheeks color and she hoped that being coarse about it would drive the truth home, "The answer, lover, is scores. I stopped counting years ago at half a hundred. Probably no one you know, other than Zevran of course."
She paused half a beat, "Ah, and before him there was Duncan. How did that slip my mind? Every night for weeks on the way to Ostagar. He made it clear that when we arrived, it would be over and he'd deny everything. I think he was ashamed of me." She barked a harsh laugh, "Or maybe it was himself he was ashamed of. Either way, he knew all about me when he came looking for recruits. That's probably why he conscripted me."
"You're lying. Duncan wouldn't have... taken advantage of a recruit. And you're half his age. Enough of this! You're..."
"I'm telling the truth," she interrupted. "I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it. You're a naive, idealistic fool. I tried to spare your feelings and give you a graceful way out of this, but you wouldn't take it." As calculated and cultivated as her 'confession' had been to this point, she was now genuinely furious. She'd been raising her voice a little with each sentence. Alistair made her forget who she was, he made her think she could be happy with someone. And most unforgivable, he made her feel like she was still worthy of someone as kind and good and loving as he was. She looked at him, he was tense with anger, and dejection and embarrassment had him seemingly trying to hide by folding inward. She'd gone too far. She'd hurt him far more than she intended.
His stunned silence was crushing her. She turned quickly and practically fled back toward camp. Her stomach churned and she suddenly felt lightheaded. This wasn't what being in control felt like, what was she doing? How could she stand being alone again after loving him? She felt panic threatening to take over before she forced herself back to a semblance of calm. It was best this way. If he could have loved her truly, none of what she said would have turned him away. She tried to believe it was that simple.
