Being a big fan of Dragon Age: Origins, I had to write the typical fanfic; modern day girl transported to Ferelden. I hope to make mine different and unique though, and I hope you enjoy. And from the summary of the story, I have two origin characters. And yes, the Disclaimer of course: I do not own Dragon Age or anything related to it.
CHAPTER ONE
It was just another day for Olyvia Hamilton. Well…okay, not just any other day, seeing as how it went horribly wrong. Coming home from work, she flopped over onto the couch in her apartment, completely exhausted. She was so tired she didn't want to even bother taking off her combat boots.
"Why do cars have to break?" she mumbled into the couch, "Why can't they run normally? And of course the day mine decides to break, making me late to work, I also get fired, and have to walk all the way back home. Today has just sucked."
After laying there for a few minutes, she pushed herself up and walked over her desk where her laptop was. She intended to play her new favorite game, well it was just below Zelda so second favorite, Dragon Age: Origins. Booting up her laptop, she stared at the screen, waiting for it to finish booting up when her cell phone went off. With a sigh, she answered it, knowing it was her older sister from the specific ringtone.
"Hi," she said dejectedly.
"Am I interrupting you at work?" she asked.
Olyvia sighed again, "No. I got fired. I just got home."
Her sister gasped, "Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! What happened?"
"They just didn't need me anymore," Olyvia replied, "My being late to work today really didn't affect it much. So yeah…I think I might have to move back home. I can't afford my apartment anymore without a job."
"Yeah…Mom won't be very thrilled about that."
Olyvia nodded, "Yeah."
Popping open her CD drive, she inserted the game and loaded it.
"How are you coping?" her sister asked.
"I'm going to do a little gaming therapy," she replied, "Kill some things, earn lots of money that doesn't count in the real world, kill some more things. That sort of stuff."
"Ah yes, very therapeutic," her sister agreed.
They talked a few minutes longer while Olyvia was getting her game set up, and a few minutes into it, her screen started going crazy, before going blue.
"No, no, no, no, NO! Not the blue screen of death!" she shouted at her laptop, "Don't do this to me!"
"What? What happened?"
"My computer just crashed," Olyvia replied, "And it still has my CD! Give it back! Release my game you plastic monster!"
She started furiously pushing the button for the drive release. When it popped open, a violent shock shot through her arm, and all she could see was white, almost as if the laptop itself blew up in a white flash. She dropped her phone, and then she felt herself falling. Before she hit the ground though, she fell unconscious.
The pain was the first thing she registered as she came to. Her arm was still aching, and burning, from the electric shock from her laptop. She was pretty sure that was what it was. Blinking her eyes open, they went wide open when she first saw she was staring at grey skies instead of the wood ceiling of her apartment. Jolting upright, she winced as the pain became more noticeable, and looked around her. This…this looked too familiar to her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she violently shook her head, ignoring the pain that came with it, and opened her eyes again. She was still in the wooded area.
"This…this can't be happening," she muttered as she pushed herself up onto her feet, "This looks like…the Wilds in Dragon Age. I must be dreaming. Stuff like this just doesn't happen!"
She hit herself in her sore arm, and cringed again. Nope, still there. She was wondering what to do when she heard sounds from behind her, and she froze. What…was that? Turning around, her stomach dropped seeing the carved grin in the Hurlock's face.
"Shit," she squeaked.
Then three more Hurlocks, and two Genlocks, stepped out from the brush, one Hurlock dressed as the Alpha, the axe in its hand confirming that. This wasn't looking good. She could only think of one thing to do. Scream and run. So she did, taking in a deep breath and letting out the loudest blood curdling scream she could muster as she took off headlong through the trees. She could hear the darkspawn in pursuit, and she just hoped she would be able to outrun them, and not tire out too quickly before that, and that she would not live up to her nickname of klutz. She did not want to die. Not here, not this way.
She leapt off an embankment, landing into a roll to avoid face planting into the ground, bruising and cutting herself up quite a bit, but she scrambled back up to her feet and continued running. She didn't even dare look back, afraid to find they were too close, or that she would run into something while her attention was diverted elsewhere.
"This can't get any worse can it?" she shouted toward the sky.
Oh but it did. She skid to a halt as one wolf stalked out from its cover, its yellow eyes trained on her. Taking a quick look around, she saw a handful more making its way toward her, and the darkspawn were catching up.
"Nice wolfy, no eat me," Olyvia said, moving slowly to try to walk around it.
It snarled at her, and she froze. She looked up to the sky. She just had to mention about how this couldn't get worse could it? Today just was not her day.
She was jolted out of her cursing the skies from the guttural cry of a darkspawn, and she turned to find the Alpha was just behind her, and about to swing. She let out another scream as she ducked to dodge, but then the wolf lunged at her. Dropping to the ground, she rolled over to the side a few times before rolling back onto her stomach and pushing herself up and took off again.
"This day has been the worst!" she cried, "First, my car breaks down on me, then I get fired from my job, and just out of spite when I try to make myself feel better, my freaking laptop electrocutes me, and now I am running, for my life, from freaking darkspawn and wolves, through a forest! I hate Mondays!"
She was coming to another embankment, and seemingly from nowhere, a wolf leapt at her. She instinctively bent over backward, dropping down onto her knees and sliding across the muddy ground. She could feel the rocks in the ground tearing at her jeans, and into her skin. As she dropped her head back, she saw one of the Hurlocks had managed to keep up with her, but the wolf, having missed her, landed on it, and the two began fighting with each other.
"Thank God," Olyvia whispered shrilly, clamoring back to her feet.
Taking off as fast as she could muster, having been running for nearly ten minutes now, she used every last ounce of her strength to jump off the edge. Her stomach churned seeing the ground so far below, even though it was probably only twenty feet down at most. Not only that though, she saw a group of armored men moving along the path below. She barely managed to roll into her land this time, jarring her legs, and she just sprawled out on her back. Oh she was in so much pain now, there was no way this was a dream. Pushing through the pain, she rolled over onto her stomach, and pushed herself up onto her elbows and knees, and looked over to the men who were cautiously approaching her. Her eyes went wide when she saw who was in the lead.
"This can't be happening," she muttered breathlessly, "There is no possible way that I was transported into my Dragon Age game. Stuff like that is impossible. I have to be dreaming. That's the only explanation."
One man, with dark hair and a stern face, pushed past the blonde in the lead and drew his blade, holding it threateningly close to her neck, and she flinched away.
"Who are you and why are you out in the Wilds?" he asked roughly.
She could only stare in terror up at him. Why was everyone out to get her?
"Calm down Erik," the blonde said, grabbing the man by his shoulder and pulling him away, "You're only frightening her."
"Look at what she's wearing though," Erik said, not bothering to be quiet about it, "Never seen anything like that before. She's probably a Witch of the Wilds."
Olyvia sighed, and looked down at her ensemble. Yes, her denim skinny jeans would cause some questions, as would her combat boots, and red t-shirt with the American flag and some stars on it. She was just screaming: I'm not from here! Being called a Witch of the Wilds though, that she most certainly wasn't.
"I am no Witch of the Wilds," Olyvia said, "I have no magic powers whatsoever."
According to what she knew.
"I wouldn't trust her," Erik growled, "Plus she drew darkspawn close to camp. She's trouble."
Olyvia was filled with dread when she realized the darkspawn were most likely still pursuing her, as well as the wolves. Their howls filled the air, and they were getting seemingly closer. She began to push herself onto her feet, causing Erik to point his sword to her, when she felt something heavy push against her back, and pain erupted in her left shoulder. She let out a cry of pain as she fell back down onto the ground as the wolf latched onto her, and started whipping its head around, tearing deeper into her flesh. It only lasted a few seconds before the wolf let out a small whimper, all its weight falling heavily onto her and its teeth pulling out of her shoulder. She pushed it away, wincing from the pain shooting through her body with every move, and got back to her knees. The darkspawn had reached them now, and a few more wolves were coming down from the hill as well. The men were busy dealing with them, so she could try sneaking away while they were busy. Even though she would most likely be safe with them, she just wanted to find a way back home. So she used a tree to climb her way back to her feet, and started to make her way around it.
"You aren't going anywhere," she heard the blonde say behind her as a hand wrapped around her elbow.
"And why not?" she asked indignantly.
He swung his sword at the Hurlock he was fighting and slashed it across its gut, and it keeled over, "First off, you're injured and won't get anywhere, but secondly, the Wilds are not a safe place."
"I figured that out already," she grumbled.
"Plus, I'm sure Erik is just dying to question you," he added.
Olyvia whimpered, "Why me? Why, why, why me? What did I do to deserve this?"
She crumpled back down onto the ground, feeling too weak to hold herself up anymore, not to mention she was starting to feel lightheaded. Oh, she didn't want to pass out because now would be the worst time to do that. She closed her eyes in an effort to keep the world from spinning around her, and took in long deep breaths to soothe her churning stomach. This was almost too much. Just as she was starting to feel better, someone roughly grabbed her by her left shoulder, right on her fresh wound. She let out a cry of pain, and used her right arm, which was still feeling a little sore from before, to fight away whoever grabbed her, hitting whoever it was on their arm, but they didn't budge.
"This wench is going to be more trouble than she's worth," she heard Erik say.
"Let go of her Erik," the blonde was saying, and suddenly the pressure on her wound was gone, "You're hurting her."
Erik scoffed, "Like she doesn't have worse planned for us Alistair. Just you wait and see. Once we have our guard down she'll strike."
So it was Alistair. She was secretly hoping it wasn't because that would have meant she had to be elsewhere rather than the inside of her game. This Erik fellow though was starting to grate on her nerves. Once Alistair gently helped her to her feet, she turned to Erik and delivered one combat boot clad foot to his groin with the remainder of her strength.
"I'll strike whoever pisses me off whenever I please," she spat, her legs shaking to keep herself up.
Erik was bent over himself, his breathing sharp and sporadic as he tried to swallow the pain.
"Y-you wench," he growled, his voice tighter than before as if he was trying not to cry, "You're going to regret that."
Olyvia began to move away, but was stopped again by Alistair.
"You're going to have to return to camp with us," he said, his hand on her arm again.
"But I need to get home," she said, "I don't belong here!"
She tried pulling away, but she was too weak, it had no effect.
"I say bind her up and drag her back to camp," Erik growled, "Since she's not cooperating."
"We are not going to do that," Alistair snapped, "She's just an unarmed woman Erik. There is no need to be so callous."
Erik grumbled under his breath and turned away, heading back up the path. A few of the others followed while two stayed behind.
"Can you walk?" Alistair asked Olyvia.
"I'll manage," she said, turning to face back where they were heading.
She took a few steps forward and her legs buckled under her weight. Her knees were on fire they were in so much pain. As her legs buckled, she felt she was about to fall when a hand grabbed her by her right arm, steadying her. She blushed as she looked over to Alistair.
"I'm fine, really," she said.
"You don't look it," he replied.
"Then you can help brace me," she compromised, "Just don't carry me."
Alistair nodded, keeping a hold of her arm, and she did her best to push through the pain as they followed the other two back to camp. Upon entering the gates, more armored men, and a few women, fell upon them.
"So what happened?" one man asked, "What was all the screaming?"
"Were there darkspawn?" another asked.
"Who's that?" a woman asked, "And what is she wearing?"
Olyvia looked up to Alistair, "You heard my screaming all the way out there?"
He nodded.
"Glad to know I have a good set of lungs," Olyvia said.
Alistair fended off the group by saying he would have answers to their questions later, and walked Olyvia over to a large tent and sat her down on a cot inside. The two men that they had followed were already in there.
"We have a few questions to ask, as you can imagine," one said. He looked to be closer to Alistair's age, and had a dark complexion and jet black hair, stubble lining his jawline.
"Just a few?" she asked sarcastically.
The man sighed, and gave Alistair a look, who merely shrugged in response. Then he turned back to Olyvia.
"First of all, we'd like to know a name."
"What's yours?" she rebutted.
The man sighed, "Are you going to be uncooperative?"
"I'm cooperating," she replied, "I'd just like to know the name of my interrogator."
"I am Edwin, this is Alistair and he is Marcus," Edwin replied.
Olyvia looked over to the other man, the redhead in the group. So he was Marcus.
"My name is Olyvia Hamilton," she replied, turning back to Edwin, "So what else do you want to know?"
"What you were doing so deep in the Wilds would be a good question," Alistair said.
"I was trying to work up to that one," Edwin muttered.
"Well you're too slow," Alistair replied.
Olyvia paused. How exactly was she going to answer that one? That she was transported from another world and was randomly dropped into the Wilds? They would think her crazy for sure, and either lock her up, or kill her just to be rid of her. Perhaps she should just play it safe.
"I don't know how I wound up there," she replied, "One second I was at my home, then something crazy happened, and I woke up here."
Marcus leaned over toward Edwin, "Erik's Witch of the Wilds story would make some sense here."
"I am not a witch!" Olyvia shouted, glaring at the two.
"Then where are you from, exactly?" Marcus asked.
There really was no way around this was there? She just had to tell them the truth, despite how crazy it sounded.
"You want the complete truth? Then here it is," she began, "I am not even from this world. Something went whacko crazy at my house, and I was somehow transported here. Your world is a freaking game in mine, so how do you think I feel exactly right now? I am so confused! I just want to go home!"
The three looked at each other in confusion. None of them believed a single word of that. It just didn't sound plausible. Though…it would explain her odd clothing.
"That…doesn't sound very believable," Edwin said.
"I knew you wouldn't," she said, "The question is: should I even bother trying to prove it to you?"
Marcus snickered, "It would be interesting."
"Then you asked for it," she said, "First off, just so I have my timeline right, Duncan has already brought the recruits Daveth and Ser Jory right?"
The three gawked at her, their eyes widening to the size of dinner plates.
"H-how did you know—," Alistair began.
"I know a lot more than you think," she interrupted, "And I know quite a bit about you Alistair, as well, but let's not get into the details. I don't think you'd appreciate that. Anyway, back to what I was saying before, judging from your reactions I take it that Daveth and Ser Jory are here?"
The three nodded numbly, and she continued, "And has Duncan returned with any more recruits?"
"Shouldn't you know this?" Marcus said sarcastically.
"I said I'm trying to get my timeline right," Olyvia snapped, "So has he or not?"
"He left just yesterday for Highever," Alistair replied, "So no."
Olyvia nodded, thinking over about what to say next, "Alright then, now that I know where exactly I am in this mess, is there anything else you want to know? Or have I proven I'm not completely crazy?"
"Oh, you're crazy alright," Marcus said, "Whether what you're saying is the truth is a different matter."
"Have I proven it then?" she asked, "You wanted to know about me, so I gave it to you."
Marcus turned to Edwin, "It could be all coincidence that she knew about Daveth and Ser Jory."
"And Duncan?" Edwin asked critically.
Marcus paused, "Well…yeah?"
Olyvia sighed in frustration, "You want more? What else do you want to know? The outcome of the battle here at Ostagar that is impending? Who will pass your Joining?"
"What do you know about the Joining?" Edwin asked, crossing the tent to grab her by the collar of her shirt.
"I told you I know a lot more than you think," she replied, "And I know a lot about the Grey Wardens, possibly more than you."
She could see that Edwin was starting to get angry.
"If you are content with the answers I have given, will you let me go?" she asked, glaring up at him, "I need to find a way home, and sitting here isn't going to help."
Edwin released his hold on her shirt and began to pace around the tent.
"What are we going to tell Duncan when he returns?" Edwin asked, looking toward Alistair.
"Tell him that she's a witch," Marcus interjected, "How else could she know these things?"
"Call me witch one more time, I dare you," Olyvia growled, her eyes narrowed in a death glare.
Marcus pursed his lips shut. He had seen what she did to Erik, and he had no desire to have that inflicted upon him so it was best to just stay quiet.
"So you claim to know the past, and the future," Edwin said, "The only explanation we can come up with is that you are a witch."
"I only said I knew of Alistair's past," Olyvia clarified, "Bits and parts. I know nothing of you or your fellow Warden here."
"What sort of things?" Marcus asked, glancing over in Alistair's direction.
Olyvia looked over to Alistair to find he was looking a little worried, but she had to say it.
"Who his father is," she replied.
"Out," Alistair ordered his fellow Wardens, "Both of you."
The two of them looked up at him in surprise. Never before had they seen him take such command, especially to his peers.
"You know you are just the Junior Warden Alistair," Edwin said, "I assume you wish to question her further, but I at least should be here."
"Out," Alistair repeated, his eyes narrowing into a glare.
"Sounds like something awfully important to me," Marcus whispered to Edwin.
"This is a personal matter, neither of you are needed here anymore," Alistair said, "And if you have any respect for our Order or myself, you will not eavesdrop. Now go."
Edwin nodded, and motioned for Marcus to follow, which he did, but begrudgingly. Once they left, Alistair waited a few moments before crossing over to her, kneeling down in front of her.
"And what exactly is it you think you know about me?" he asked.
She could tell he was trying to keep his temper, which she was surprised at. He seemed to be so laid back, but everyone was capable of anger.
"I know your father is the late King Maric," she said quietly, just in case Edwin, or most likely Marcus, was outside, "Your mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe Castle when she gave birth to you, and Arl Eamon took you in. Is that enough, or do you wish to hear more."
Alistair stood, looking very pale, "Maker…how do you know this?"
"I told you already, but no one believes me," she retorted.
"Alright, say I believe you, what does that help?" Alistair asked.
She paused. She hadn't exactly thought of that.
"Well…alright, I admit I don't really know," Olyvia replied, "Maybe I can try to stop the inevitable, but then again, I don't know how badly that would screw things up."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I…I don't know if I should tell you," Olyvia said, "I probably have said too much already, but you three were forcing my hand! I was just trying to explain to you that I don't belong here, and that I just want to go home. That's all I want! I just want to go home."
She was sobbing now, bent over herself and covering her face with her hands. She knew her family would be driving themselves crazy trying to find her once they found she was missing, and she was already missing them terribly. A few moments later she felt Alistair's hand on her right shoulder, in a comforting gesture.
"I…I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to upset you."
"It seemed to be the only way to get one of you to understand my predicament so someone could be able to help me get back home," she said, hastily wiping away her tears, "So I apologize for bringing up your heritage in front of the others."
"You were at least a little discreet about it," Alistair said, "And I thank you for that, instead of just…blurting it out."
"I knew better than that," Olyvia said, "So are we done now? I would love to have this taken care of," she pointed to her wounded shoulder, "I'm still bleeding here."
Alistair nodded, "I'll see if I can convince a mage to come help. And get you some clothes while I'm at it."
"These are clothes," Olyvia said indignantly.
"Some that won't cause everyone to stare," Alistair said, walking to the doorway, "And that aren't torn and soaked with blood."
"Point taken," Olyvia said, looking down at the holes in the knees of her jeans with a sad sigh, "I loved these jeans."
Alistair left, and Olyvia just sat where she was, wringing her hands together. She was feeling a little shaken up from her interrogation, and there was still one thing she hadn't brought up. What if she couldn't go home? As much as she didn't want to think about it, she knew she had to. She was able to get here, so there had to be a way back…right?
She continued to sit there for a long time, progressively growing weaker and lightheaded as she continued to lose blood. Her shoulder wound was bleeding rather freely still, not looking to slow anytime soon. After a particular dizzying moment, she fell forward onto the ground, just barely able to keep herself up on her elbows and knees. She wasn't going to last long at this rate. She started crawling toward the doorway when Alistair finally stepped back through. He was at her side in less than a second.
"Are you alright Olyvia?" he asked.
"No," she replied, as if it was the obvious answer.
Alistair gently lifted her back up and laid her down onto the cot, "I guess that was a bit of a stupid question."
"It's okay," she muttered, her eyes fluttering shut, "I don't think I'm supposed to feel so cold."
Alistair cursed under his breath, "And of course the mages think now is the perfect time to be busy or disappear on everybody."
"Wait a second," Olyvia said, starting to feel a little more coherent as adrenaline rushed through her body from the shock of realization she just came upon, "Are…are you dressing my wounds?"
Alistair blushed, "The Wardens all came to the decision that since I am the one who insisted on investigating the screaming before, that I should be the one to take care of you."
"Lovely," Olyvia groaned, "Okay, whatever. I would love to stay conscious so I think now is better than later."
She was so incoherent she was sure she wouldn't be able to remember much about it anyway, but at the moment she was feeling rather mortified. Alistair pulled her up into a sitting position, and she sort of lolled about there, teetering over so much it looked like she was about to fall back over.
Alistair looked toward the entrance of the tent, his eyes narrowing. He knew part of the reason the other Wardens made him do this was because he had never seen a woman in any state of undress, and were doing this to tease and embarrass him. Well, it certainly was working. He had to push those thoughts out of his mind though and deal with Olyvia's wound. Trying his best to focus on the task at hand and not the gender of the person, or the assets that marked her gender, he pulled off her top, apologizing when she whimpered in pain for having to move her shoulder in order to get it off. Her right arm went instantly across her chest, even though it hardly helped to cover anything, but at least her bra helped with that too.
Alistair worked silently, really doing his best to keep his eyes focused on the wound, but his eyes would occasionally glance elsewhere for a split second. Every time he did, he mentally slapped himself, berating himself for it, and the blush on his face progressively darkened until he was beet red. By then, he had finally finished dressing the wound and cleaned the injuries on her knees.
"Here, drink this," Alistair ordered, handing her a small vial.
She looked at it warily, "What is it?"
"It'll help with the pain," Alistair replied.
"Does it taste like strawberries?" she asked.
"Uh…no…it-it doesn't," Alistair replied.
Olyvia first pulled the blanket on the cot up around her chest before taking the vial from Alistair's hand. She sniffed it first, but didn't smell anything, so she poured the liquid inside into her mouth and swallowed.
"Ugh, that's nasty," she gagged, her face contorting into disgust, "Worse than cold syrup. Who would have thought that possible?"
He took the vial back from her and set it down before helping her lay down, "Now you'll just rest for a while. I have to go, so don't even think about trying to sneak away."
"Whatever," she mumbled, closing her eyes, "Good night."
She heard him walk away, and soon after that sleep finally claimed her.
She woke many hours later, her eyes opening to find she was surrounded in darkness. She felt around her, cringing as she moved her bad arm. She felt the cot's edges around her, and the scratchy wool blanket on top of her. So this really wasn't a dream. Though her arm was still hurting, she felt a lot better than she had previously. She wanted to get up and go out, see what else could be done about it, but she still had no shirt. The one she had was stained with her blood, and she didn't know if Alistair did bring her clothes like he had mentioned. So, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and slipped off the cot. She could at least poke her head out and tell someone she was awake, still hurting, and absolutely starving. She was only halfway across the tent when Alistair entered.
"What are you doing out of the bed?"
She turned and ran back to the cot, and hopped back on it, "I wasn't leaving. I was just going to see where people were."
Alistair held out what looked like a small wooden bowl to her, "I assume you're hungry."
"Starving," she said, taking the bowl from his hands, and taking a bite, "Hmm…you Wardens aren't much of cooks are you?"
"Think you could do better?"
"I know I could do better," Olyvia replied, "What is this anyway? Is this your lamb stew?"
"Edwin made it if that's what you're asking," Alistair said.
"But it's lamb stew," Olyvia stated.
Alistair lit a lamp, illuminating the tent with its light, and nodded, "Why do you ask?"
"No wonder it's all grey and chewy," she muttered, "And bland."
"You are more than welcome to cook for everyone," Alistair said.
Olyvia laughed nervously, "Somehow I don't think anyone would let me near the food, especially Erik. He might think I'll poison it."
Alistair couldn't help but nod in agreement. Most of the men probably would because they all believed Erik's accusation of her being a witch.
Olyvia continued eating until the bowl was empty, and Alistair took it from her and set it down before returning back to her side.
"Now, I can't understand how you find yourself comfortable in those clothes," he began.
"They are quite comfortable," Olyvia said, knowing he was talking about her skinny jeans.
"But I was unable to find a set of clothes for you this evening," Alistair continued, "So you can wear this."
He tossed her the item in his hands, and she let it fall onto her lap, "It's one of yours I'm guessing?"
Alistair blushed, "If you want something else I can try again."
"No, this is fine," Olyvia said, "Just needed to know who to thank, so thank you. Not…just for this though, but for everything. You're the only person here so far who has been nice to me."
"You're welcome," Alistair replied, "I'll…I'll go and let you change. It'll be easier to bandage your legs that way."
She looked down at her knees. They did look rather gnarly, though not as bad as previous scuffed knees, but they did need bandages.
"O-okay," Olyvia mumbled.
Without another word, he stepped out of the tent. Picking up the clothing on her lap, she unfolded it, and found it was a tunic, and a rather long one. It would easily cover her. Bringing the fabric to her face, she smelled it. Her eyes fluttered shut and she took in another deep breath. God he smelled so good.
She couldn't waste time, or else Alistair might walk in on her while she was half-naked, or more. Putting the tunic down, she untied her shoes, amazed that she managed to sleep with them on, set them aside, and pulled down her pants. They were torn beyond repair, and would have to be thrown away.
"These were my favorite," she whimpered.
She tossed them aside though, and went back to dressing. She looked down at her plain tan bra, and found that it was covered in blood, and would most likely not come out. At least she wasn't wearing her favorite bra. She would have mourned for its loss too. So, unclasping the bra, she stuffed it in between the pants so it wasn't noticeable. Her underwear was at least unscathed, she would not enjoy going without them. Grabbing the tunic, she pulled it over her head and down around her thighs. It went just barely below her mid-thigh, but it would be enough. Sitting back down on the cot, she waited for Alistair to return. It wasn't until a few minutes later that she heard him.
"Are you decent?"
"As decent as I'm going to get," Olyvia replied.
The tent flap was pulled aside and Alistair stepped back in, letting it fall back to its place. He strode over to her side, and first inspected her injured knees before getting a damp rag. Olyvia felt her face burning up from all her blushing and she kept her gaze averted. This just felt so awkward. She had never been too comfortable around men, having grown up with three sisters, a mom, and her dad being the only male in the household. Plus…she had a bit of a crush on Alistair. It was from all the gaming she did, but it still passed over to where she was now, and having him so close sent her heart racing in almost a panicked manner. And where his hands were didn't help matters. His touch was so gentle he was basically caressing her skin, almost seeming intimate, and sent shivers through her body. By the time he finished bandaging her right knee, she was almost sure she'd go into cardiac arrest.
"So when is Duncan expected back?" Olyvia asked, trying to distract her mind.
"A few weeks," Alistair replied, "It takes a week or so to get to Highever from here. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," she replied, "I didn't know it took that long to travel there from here."
"Ferelden isn't all that big," Alistair said, "Orlais on the other hand."
Olyvia nodded, "Yeah, they looked fairly large on the map, and that was only part of it."
Alistair raised an eyebrow, "Map? You had a map?"
"It came with the game," Olyvia explained.
Alistair finished tying off the bandage, "Oh. Well, there you go."
Once he moved aside she stretched out her legs to take a look, "Thank you. Looks like you've had a lot of practice doing this."
"Not much of a good thing that I've had a lot of practice," Alistair said.
Olyvia nodded in agreement, "That's true. Need injured people to practice on."
She dropped her legs back down, and just let them swing back and forth. There wasn't much else she could think to talk about. Alistair couldn't come up with anything either, his mind was preoccupied at the moment, both of them. Her legs may not have been necessarily long, but they were lean, smooth and flawless. And from having to bandage her legs, he knew her skin was soft as well. He tried his best to not to think about it because he was aroused enough already. Maker, he only knew her for a few hours and already was thinking bad thoughts. He turned and walked toward the tent entrance.
"I'll be back in the morning to check on you again," Alistair said, "So…goodnight."
"Right…goodnight," Olyvia replied.
He left the tent, and Olyvia swung her legs back up onto the cot. Even though she spent most of the day sleeping, she still felt quite exhausted. Perhaps that was due to her injury that caused her to be so weary. Pulling her blanket over her again, she laid back down and shut her eyes, waiting for sleep to overcome her again. She was rather worried about what the morrow might bring, and the days following. How exactly was she going to survive all this?