Based on Bioware's Dragon Age: Origins. The characters and the original plot points belong to the original creators. My take on it strays at times and is in no way meant to infringe on any preexisting story.
Chapter One: The Beginning of the End
Numb. That is what she felt. Numb. The world didn't exist, sounds were silent, and colours were gray. The world was alive and yet nothing lived. A hole was where her heart should have been, and if the muscle beat, she would not care. The only thing she felt anything for was her war hound, who was licking his wounds next to her.
"You need to eat, child."
The gruff voice across from her stirred her emotions long enough for her to shift her weight on her sleeping mat. She stared at her bandaged feet protruding from under her tattered skirts, illuminated by the fire. She looked up at Duncan with a blank expression. She did not speak, let alone eat the food he offered her. She didn't want to move, or else she'd feel the dried blood in her hair scrub against her neck.
Duncan's kind face seemed to stare into her spirit, trying to convince her to eat the sprouts and hare he had managed to scrape up for them. She didn't want to eat. She wanted to starve and disappear. She wanted off the earth and to fade away.
"Aela, I know these are trying times, but - "
"They're dead."
Aela's own voice sounded far away. It was hoarse from a night of screaming, sore from the shrieks that ripped out of her, just as her heart was.
Duncan didn't respond.
"We left them... my mother, my father... all those people I loved..."
Duncan placed the plate down and sighed defeatedly. "A lesson we all must learn is that these things are not our faults."
Aela's eye twitched. She said nothing.
"But your parents' last wishes were to see you escape."
Aela began counting the threads fraying from her gown. Running through the night had made a mess of her clothing, and how she managed to escape with only minor scrapes was either her mother's training flourishing or sheer dumb luck. She gazed over her weapons - the Cousland sword she had taken from her parents' room and a random dagger she had trained with years ago. She never thought she would ever have to use it.
Her feet ached from running through the Coastlands' forest. Ferns, roots, fallen branches, and brambles had torn her flesh to shreds, and by the time they came to rest by the road, her feet were bloody beyond believe. The rest of the blood belonged to many men, Howe and Cousland, and a particular streak along her sleeve was from her beloved nephew, Oren. She hiccupped and twisted her arm to hide the stain.
Duncan picked up the plate and thrust it into her hands. She winced as bruises and scrapes wrenched around. "Eat. You need your strength if you have any hope of being a Grey Warden."
The girl twisted her nose as tears fell. "I don't want that life."
Duncan leaned back against a tree, sword over his lap. "And yet you were begging to join your brother in the fight against the darkspawn."
She cringed and felt her back spasm out of disgust. "I never thought... it would be like that."
"War is never something you expect. But you wielded those blades as true as you were able. Does that count for nothing?"
"Not anymore."
Duncan gave a sharp sigh at her stubborness. Aela stared at the meat on her plate, hunger keeping its distance. She wondered how the people burned in the castle, and the thought made her grimace.
"We must travel to Ostagar, and get there by the end of the week." Duncan motioned to her plate. "Your brother will be there waiting to march. If we get there on time, I promise I will give you leave to seek him, if you promise to uphold your end of your oath."
Aela blinked. Fergus. Of course! He would be there, and she would tell him, and together they could call for Howe's punishment!
"My oath?"
Duncan shifted his weight and looked into her eyes. "You will be recruited into the Grey Wardens and use your life to serve them as I do."
"Oh."
She took one bite and chewed for a time. Duncan relaxed.
"How is your fighting?" he asked after a while. Aela swallowed painfully. She did not understand at first. Duncan motioned with his hands, looking for words. "You're lengthy, quick in times when you need to be... a good asset to have on the battlefield. More defensive."
Aela nodded gently. "I'm good at hiding," she murmured. "I was always good at sneaking up on people."
Duncan gave a nod and an approving grunt.
"Locks, too," Aela continued. "And traps."
She received more nods. She ate, but did not finish. She instead placed the plate to the side and touched her hands to her hair. It was still crusted with dried blood and dirt. She pulled a lock to her eyes to see. White strands were tinged red and brown. She began to pull the slightly wavy strands apart. Duncan made it to his feet and he walked a few paces away. He sheathed his sword and fingered the ground for a moment before -
Suddenly, Aela's hand flew up and snatched a rock mid-flight before it careened into her head. She snapped her eyes to Duncan, who stared back. He smiled and bowed his head.
"Good. Let's go."
And Aela slowly crawled to her feet. The cuts and gashes and broken toes made her stumble, but Duncan caught her. He righted her and lead her forward, forcing her towards the main road. She clutched her two weapons as if they were her parents' spirits.
"Duckling, to me."
The mabari reared his massive head and jumped to his feet.
Duncan gave her a blanket to hide herself in and he wore his cloak. "Howe's men are still wandering about. Best let them think we are among the dead." He turned around and tugged the blanket from her head. He had his dagger in his hand.
When Aela was born, she was renowned for not looking like a Cousland child. Her hair was white as ash, her eyes as green as leaves and life, her skin bronze and forever sun-kissed. Eleanor and Bryce Cousland said she was their miracle child, and her beauty attracted the attention of suitors that Aela rejected countlessly.
She flinched as Duncan's blade sliced through her hair, freeing her of the locks that flowed to the backs of her knees. She didn't bother choking down her tears. She stared ahead and let them fall as Duncan cut through it until it only surrounded her face daintily. He buried it under a tree and pulled the blanket over her head again, squeezing her shoulders. He tumbed away her tears and wiped them over her face to moisten it. He rubbed more filth on it and she gagged internally with every swipe.
"Hopefully no one will recognize you, now."
They made it to a small inn and trading post off the North Road once they had broken free of the Coastlands Forest. Duncan ushered her inside and checked her cloak again. He looked weary as he waited for the innkeeper to enter. Aela only hoped Duckling would behave himself.
"Sorry, we're closed!" a shrill voice exclaimed. A plump and otherwise miserable looking woman stomped into view and looked over Duncan and Aela with beady eyes.
"We are simply looking for clothing and food," Duncan replied. His voice was suddenly hoarse. "My daughter and I are trying to get to Redcliffe."
"Pah!" the woman replied. "Do you think that will open me shop?" The woman leaned against the counter and she sneered. "I have orders from Arl Rendon Howe to not let any visitors in."
"I can pay generously," Duncan assured. "For a change of clothes for my daughter. They are far too cold for the journey south."
The woman looked Aela up and down. She cocked her head to the side. "Generously, eh? You look like peddlers to me."
Duncan coughed. "Please, she is worth more than I own."
The woman sighed angrily. She rolled her eyes and gave up.
"Off with the blanket, then, girl. Let's see if you're worth the time."
Aela faltered. "I am cold," she lied.
"Do you want clothes, or not?"
Duncan gave her a look that made her slowly open her blanket. She kept her head down, and the blanket draped over her head to cover her hair. The woman scoffed.
"Did you pull that thing off a dying pig?" that woman cackled. "Looks like that gown was once pretty. Silk, lace, imported. Now it's covered in shit and other things I don't want in me shop."
Aela's gown was indeed beautiful at one point. It was cinched in the middle, a beautiful lavender hue with golden embroidery and beading. Now, it was tattered and miscoloured.
"Tailored, too." The woman leaned forward. "Take that blanket from your head, girl. Let me see your face."
Aela froze before she let the blanket fall. The woman's mean face melted into horror.
"By the Maker," she uttered. Aela grimaced. "You're a mess. Alright, lemme see what I have. And I expect payment from your father."
She stormed off, muttering. Duncan looked over at her. "I thought she would recognize me," Aela whispered.
"Not everyone in the world has seen you, it seems. Not in the state you're in now."
Soon, Aela was dressed in old leather armour that was a little too big. Her gown lie crumpled in the corner of the room she was ushered into and she stared at herself in the mirror. She looked away immediately and pulled on her new boots. She clasped her dagger around her side and tore the laces from her gown. She tied them around the handle of her sword and slung it across her back. The innkeeper was busy counting out her sovereigns when Aela left. The innkeeper was talking to another customer.
"Highever had a nasty fire in the middle of the night," the man said. The innkeeper sighed.
"Hard to believe all the Couslands perished," the man continued. The innkeeper grunted in agreement.
"Pity. I rather liked them."
Aela walked out without another word and met Duncan outside. She took the first step onto the main road, and towards her new life, the beginning of the end.
Aela stared at the mannequin holding her armour, her body vibrating with tension. She rested a hand on it and pulled the chainmail over her head. Her white hair was braided behind her head, brushed the top of her back. Her facial tattoos stood out against her freshly cleaned skin, which glistened under the oil that was used in her blessing.
She pulled on her drake scale shirt and buckled it. It was perfectly fitted, like a second skin, and the boots made from the drake hide made her move as if they didn't exist. She pulled on her gloves over calloused and scarred hands and rolled her shoulders back.
"You're sure that archdemon is going to be making an appearance tonight?" Zevran asked. Aela turned and sheathed her two daggers in her boots. Her green eyes met his amber gaze as she straightened her posture.
"I'm sure of it," she replied simply. For the first time since she had met him, fear flashed before his eyes. He gave a nod and excused her. She fastened a bushel of arrows to her back and slung her bow over her torso.
Finally, on her bedside table, a rose rested peacefully upon the oak. She slowly went to it and picked it up between her fingers softly. She stared at it, counting the petals.
"He's waiting for us out there," Alistair murmured behind her. "He knows we're running out there."
"He should be scared," Aela replied. She let the rose rest to her side as she looked at him. He looked tired. He didn't sleep well, either. He refused to fall asleep last night, lest the night terrors rip him apart. "For tonight, he dies."
Alistair cracked a half-smile and crossed the room. He stopped an arms length from her. Aela looked up at him. He rested a hand on her cheek. His smile faltered. "You're shaking."
Aela nodded hysterically and she grabbed onto Alistair, cramming her face into his dragon bone breastplate painfully, wishing she could break through it and feel the warmth beneath. Alistair embraced her feverishly, rocking the pair of them back and forth. He pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. He grabbed the rose from her fingers and brought it to his lips. He turned Aela around and ran it through her braid.
"Are you ready for this?" Alistair asked.
"Are you?" she retorted.
"Is anyone?" he chuckled.
Aela turned around again and grabbed his face. She looked into his eyes deeply. "We need to be. So let's be."
"That's my girl."
Alistair leaned forward and kissed her. She clung to him and melded with him, having a single moment of calm before the hell that was waiting outside for them. She tasted him and tried to knit her soul with his. He pulled away to kiss her eyes, her mouth again, and a scar the ran over her cheek. They held each other for a moment before someone ran in.
"The archdemon has shown himself!" Riordan exclaimed. Aela and Alistair looked at each other. "He's at the head of the horde."
"On our way," Aela responded in her leading voice. "Please alert my party. I want each of us out there tonight. And Duckling." Riordan nodded and left. Aela clutched onto Alistairs hand and made him look at her.
"I have something for you to protect you," she said quickly. She ran to the other side of her bed and hauled a shield into view. Alistair stared at it for a moment.
"I-Is that - "
Aela handed it to him. He stared at the silver griffon clawing at nothing on it.
"I know you have Maric's shield, but I thought that we'd bring Duncan with us instead. I just... I don't use shields."
Alistair looked up and his face sobered. He pulled Maric's shield from his back and replaced it with Duncan's.
Alistair held Aela one more time.
"I'm going all the way there with you," he declared. "Riordan can take the kill, but you and I are staying with each other. We're waking up tomorrow."
Aela nodded. "Together."
"Like the land and the sky."
Alistair pulled back and smiled. Aela returned the smile, suddenly supercharged. "Let's get an archdemon head to match our dragon clothing, shall we?"
To be continued...