Author's Note: The characters here are from my story Coexist. If you haven't read at least some that, you'll be confused. Hope you enjoy. :)
The sound of metal clacking against cobblestone was barely heard through the static that crackled through the boy's mind, muting the distant bloodcurdling screams that lingered in the outskirts of Denerim. In the midst of tears and fire was a scowl that challenged those of the monsters that invaded the cities, hiding the boy's beautiful features; he gripped the hilts of his swords, marching toward the battlefield with an aura of vengeance and defiance radiating around his form. Beyond the trail lay a possible ending he had never wanted, one he was once even afraid of, yet at that moment he held the demeanor of an angered warrior who'd gone rogue, eyes devoid of emotion, teeth bared and digging into the plush skin of his lips.
He exhaled softly, the summer heat simmering beyond his flesh, to his inner being. In the corner of his eye stood the other remains of the Grey, the man and woman who'd been with him since the beginning. They walked just as briskly as he, though there was no malice in the stride, no hatred in each step. Their movement seemed…feeble, wary, and their eyes were evasive, looking downward at the cobblestones that led down the pathway. He bit his lip harder at the sight of that; they would rather stare at the blood-soaked ground than him. Cowards.
Their hands were linked, and they seemed to find comfort in the connection. He snorted at that, rolling his eyes. Neither would complete this task without the other, not now. Not when they'd allowed themselves to fall in love. They were complete opposites. Elven and human. Mage and templar. Enemies by blood, history, and tragic coincidence, yet despite the odds - and his sister's stubbornness - they'd found a way to coexist in blissful harmony.
And when the boy - nay, the man - saw this conclusion as they drew nearer to the city gates, he slit his eyes at the two and clenched the rough metal of his hilt so severely his hand began to numb. It was disgusting, pathetic. Were he to fall - were she to fall - they would both forget the duties they were cursed with, to save a country that'd spit at their feet. And their love, their cancer, would cause that much more depravity.
Jaiden turned his head away from the fools, curling his lip, almost tasting the bitterness that tinged its way to his tongue. She was right. Love was weakness.
He looked at the ring she'd placed on his finger not too long ago, then placed his hand on his ear, feeling the small golden earring that resided there. But it couldn't really be a weakness, could it?
As his mind consumed these thoughts, a slight brush on exposed skin brought him out of his festering. He looked up, seeing skin that was not as dark as his, but heavily tanned none the less. Golden hair danced in the wind, and eyes stared into his own. They were a shade of amber as well, but brighter, more exuberant. More loud and inhuman.
Jaiden blinked, and as soon as they'd arrived, they departed, and so did the unhealthy pace his heartbeat had been reduced to.
His hands had released the hilts, fingers twitching, and his eyes joined the lovers in their evading. The ground was filthy, unclean. Tainted. To breath it in, to taste the filth that'd lingered and would linger long after the dark ones left would bring him comfort. A slow, painful, well-deserved death. He longed for this, to die in agony, to be forgotten. But that wish could not be fulfilled either; he'd become immune to the taint by force. It was the third time he'd been deprived of something he desired in a matter of hours.
He let out a slow, controlled breath, still walking as he fought the sting in his eyes, the tears that were begging to be released. He wouldn't dare look at the beautiful elf again, not after what he'd done. Not after what she'd done.
A shout was heard, so shrill and demanding that it overshadowed that of the Blight's victims; he cringed at the closeness of the voice, the familiarity, and the fear that only he and the templar could hear. A sword was raised, then another, and another, until the mass of soldiers clad in silver and bronze armor rampaged down the slope, into the entrance. His feet obeyed the command as well, and he sprinted down the hill where a small cliff overlooked the city, giving him access to the streets below. Fingers gripped the ironbark of the bow that rested on his back, pulling it out of its strap; an arrow found itself between the ancient wood that structured it, and tree fiber that'd been used to form the string. The sound of flesh, both tainted and pure, being ripped apart by blades and teeth filled his ears, and the sight of blood gushed vividly before his enhanced vision as if it'd been sprayed mere feet from him. Sharp elven senses were a gift, yet a curse, a concept he'd so bitterly come familiar with in the past year.
The bow was a mixture of beauty and intimidation, dexterity and brutality, and it seemed to gleam in the setting sun. He aimed it apathetically at the swarm of enemies, arrows singing through the crimson sky, raining down upon the creatures that opposed him. It was a systematic thing, an action that'd been set into his mind since the blood had slithered down his lips and began the darkening within his veins that would deprive him of old age; the obligation to destroy those who'd cursed him. He found nothing in it, no pleasure, no hatred. It was simply mechanical movements he seemed to be programmed to do.
As what seemed to be the millionth darkspawn died by his hand, a large whistling noise attacked his eardrums, and he looked into the sky where the sound hailed from, eyes capturing a large sphere made of gravel that soared toward him and the other band of archers; gravity pulled the boulder faster and faster toward them, and adrenaline forced him to somersault out of its path. The sound of bones snapping and throats rasping as painful screeches spewed out of them caused Jaiden to wince, yet he felt no pity. It was survival of the fittest, something else she had taught him. They were not paying attention to the battlefield, and they paid for their foolishness with their lives. It wasn't anything of his concern.
Placing his bow back inside its strap, he jogged down the slope, elven blades brandished as he entered the heart of the chaos. The allies were winning, so far. He couldn't find a darkspawn that wasn't being fought all ready. As the last dark one perished, a veil of serenity flowed through his veins, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. There were no more enemies, not that he could sense. Not that weren't inside the city all ready.
Then, as soon as the relief had passed, a sharp and familiar twinge singed down his spine, and he scowled. More of them appeared near the horizon, maniacal grins painted as darkly on their faces as it was on their fallen brethren. He clenched the hilts of his blades, knees bent and ready to pounce. They charged down the hill and toward the allies, tainted swords brandished. Arrows flew, and magic swarmed through the air; it was a web of violet and azure, crimson and gold, though Jaiden found one spell in particular the most alluring. It was a projectile of the deepest ebony, spewing from the hands of a darkspawn emissary. It reminded him of one of the spells she used to do, the death cloud that had aided them all countless times in battle. Despite his inner defiance, a silken voice echoed through his mind, haunting, and beautiful.
I have a plan, you see. A way out. A loop in your hole.
And it was all too overwhelming for him.
His expression turned feral, and he lunged at the horde, blades rampaging through tainted flesh. He saw nothing but red mist, unshed tears clouding his vision. Blood splattered across his face, as the scattered memory brought him to the brink of insanity.
He could see it, feel it all in his mind. The three of them standing there in Zetheria's room, looming over the embers of the fireplace. The anger. The disbelief. The hurt. Him seeing the pain in his sister's eyes, and the hope in those of his lover's.
Sister, stay out of this! This is between me and her.
Listen to yourself! She just asked me to convince Alistair to do it since you wouldn't. She doesn't love you. She's been using us this whole time. She's not your love.
The elven apostate snapping her head to the human one, her brow furrowed in rage, and the receiver of her fury hiding the shame and hurt behind her golden eyes. And you are not my sister.
Him defending the witch. More shouts of hate. Silver eyes burning into his soul. Heavy footsteps. The sight of long colorless hair slinging around the corner as his sister left him.
The glimmer of wild golden eyes attempting to mesmerize him, but failing. The feeling of his lips moving, forming a
word of refusal, once again. Her lips being uprooted into a scowl. His eyes softening.
I….I just don't think we should do this.
Her inhumane eyes widening, her once calm voice screeching at him.
Why, because of Zevran? Do you fear he will condemn you for sparing him grief and saving your own life? Or perhaps you fear he will learn of you making love with me once again? No, Jaiden, I do not think he is that selfish. He is not you.
His heart lurching at the impact of her words. His tears falling. Please, don't leave. Don't do this. I need you.
Her back turning to him, head lowered. Voice oozing remorse. Would it be that I could help you….that is no longer my concern. You have made your choice, and I have made mine.
Him pleading with her once more. Her transforming into a raven, glaring at him with smaller, sparkling golden orbs, then soaring into the night sky.
Chunks of flesh flew around him, yet he was unfazed. There was a growth festering inside him, one filled with malice, regret, love, hate, rage. It'd risen to the surface. There was nothing to do to hinder its wrath; it would simmer inside him, fall, then rise again. And so would this be for the remainder of his struggle. Which would not be long, for the archdemon would claim him. He would make sure of it.
The speed of his movements were seen in a blur, as he slaughtered the forsaken, the creatures who had forced this burden upon him. As he saw the last spawn die, he ceased to fight, blades slowly finding their tips impaling the moistened soil. His heart beat wildly within his chest, and his blood pulsated inhumanely throughout his veins. He inhaled and exhaled violently, filthy hands reaching for his face. The tears had still not fallen, and would most likely not.
He slowly turned, fearing that they had noticed his outburst. There was no one, save for the elven woman who seemed to stand above the crowd. She was staring directly at him, expression completely unreadable; the lips were sealed, and the brow was relaxed, yet his elven eyes could see the unshed tears that threatened to fall from her stronghold. Despite what he felt for her, his face softened at the sight of her, and she saw this. But she turned her head, white hair slinging behind her just as it did the night before.
Riordan had called the army leader and her companions over to the side of an outpost. Jaiden walked solemnly, as if his very essence had been drained in those moments of insanity. Her voice rang throughout his mind, once again.
This is what my mother intended when she sent me with you. She was the one who first gave me this ritual and told me of what I was meant to do. This does not surprise you, does it?
And this time, he laughed to himself, bitterly. No, I wasn't surprised at that. I'm surprised at myself for thinking you didn't have an ulterior motive, that you actually loved me.
Once he got to the group, he heard the elder Warden speak of darkspawn generals and such. Strategies; it mattered not to him. As long as he took the archdemon's life in exchange for his own, nothing mattered.
She was asked who she would take with her to the city. He expected to hear his name, Alistair's, and perhaps Shale. What he received was utter silence.
He looked up at his sister, who stood tall and proud before her fellow Warden, though her eyes were distant, vacant. Not the eyes of an army commander, surely. "Shale, Wynne, Oghren, Sten. You're coming with me."
And he could not stop himself from freezing, mouth agape. His heart stopped, and he immediately brought his attention to that of Alistair. He shared the same expression as he did.
He stared at the cobblestones below him, littered with flesh and debris. She's interfering again. I can't believe she's interfering again.
She'd convinced him that doing the ritual was wrong, that he was only being used. She'd deprived him of love, and now, the death that he so craved.
He stared at her again, the redness threatening to blind his senses once more. Zetheria was standing there, eyes closed, whilst the allies gathered around the gate to say their farewells and give good blessings. She slowly opened them, lifting her head toward the colored skies, and he heard a low, burdened sigh.
The companions had placed themselves in a line to speak final words to their leader before she left to confront the archdemon. Jaiden persisted on being the last in line, to prepare himself for facing his elder sister. She was leaving to die. It was not supposed to be this way. It was not.
Moments later, he chose not invade the privacy of the personal conversations Zetheria shared with the others, yet when she reached Alistair, he could not help but to listen, and watch.
Alistair's voice was dull, soft. "So I'm not going with you, I see. Mind telling me why?"
He watched his sister, awaiting a response. She was standing perfectly still, save for her trembling hands. "I couldn't risk you getting hurt, Alistair." The tone of voice only made Jaiden's heart break more, yet the anger was still there.
Alistair's brow furrowed together, hazel eyes brightening furiously. "And you think I want you to get hurt?" His tone was harsh, but the love overshadowed the anger. "You think I want you fighting out there without me protecting you? Zetheria, I know you're a powerful mage, I know that, but this is an ancient tainted beast that is probably more powerful than any of the dragons you've killed combined!"
She scowled. "Riordan might not make it. If he doesn't, either you or I are the options. I was never going to allow Jaiden to face this, especially after last night." The fury left her face, and she sighed, eyes softening. "If I don't come back…I need you to take care of him, Ali. Find Morrigan for him, if he wishes it. Give Zevran back to him. Be as much of a part of my family as you said you wanted to be when you asked me to be your wife. Please, emma sa'lath. Do this for me. And tell my family…tell father….that I'm sorry. That I tried."
A moment of silence waves over them. Nothing can be heard but the thunder that roared above, the screams of victims and the crackling of flames that consumed the city.
Then, finally, there was a sigh. "I….I will, Zetheria. I promise."
Another hesitation. "I love you, Alistair."
Another pause. "And I love you. Always."
Jaiden closed his eyes, breath shallow. The air was still, warm upon his face. When his lids opened once again, he saw his sister walking toward the main doors, pride in each step she took, though he knew by the intensity of her stride that it was all a masquerade for the humans who were under her command.
She placed her hand on the large handle, then turned her head toward the group that'd been there for the past year. She smiled gloomily at all of them. Her eyes immediately found Jaiden's, and they stayed there. Her silver eyes shined, and the wind suddenly awakened, causing her colorless locks to dance in the breeze. She was beautiful.
After a few moments of staring, her lips curled into that soft, loving smile she would always give him. Then she spoke, so softly that even those who stood next to her would not notice. Ma'arlath, lethallin.
Jaiden analyzed his elder sister. She was an elf, curvaceous amongst her people, yet still considered frail and small by other races. She stood amongst a Qunari and a golem, who could crush her whenever they pleased, an elderly mage who was far more educated in the arcane than she, and a dwarven warrior who could cleave her in two, yet she still the strongest of them all.
He smiled as well, his own ebony hair, loose and hanging just past his shoulders flowed in the wind. Ma'arlath, lethallan. Abelas.
She nodded slightly, placing her hand over her heart. All was forgiven.
The massive doors opened slowly for the elven apostate and her companions, and when they'd fully entered the city, they closed more quickly. The harsh sound of the grand gates locking made him wince; it was as if the click of the locks were setting the permanence of it all. His sister was walking to her death. He had lost her to cruel coincidence, evil, and love.
He turned then, walking toward the stronghold where the allies had gathered to stop the darkspawn from following the Hero of Ferelden. The wind blew harder, and he glanced up at the sky, the sensations in his hair bringing a calm throughout his body. In the corner of his eye, he saw an ebony blur perched upon the roof of a building, a spot of golden amongst the darkness of its form. He turned his head, only to see a large raven leering at him so intensely, one would think it possessed the mind of a human. Its eyes found his own, and a connection was made; Jaiden smiled sadly, tears threatening to fall once again. I love you, too.
The raven cawed, so loud and anxiously it echoed throughout the gates, and sunk to Jaiden's very bones. He continued to stare at the bird, refusing to remove eye contact. Seconds -though it felt like hours - passed, and the bird turned his head, away from him.
And the boy - nay, the man - watched as the raven gave him one final intense stare with its gleaming golden orbs, then spread its wings, soaring in the wind.
Translations
Emma sa'lath - My one love
Ma'arlath - I love you
Lethallin - A term one uses with someone they adore, rather it's a family member or friend.
Abelas - Sorrow. Mostly used as apologies.