A/N: This is my first fan fiction. I plan on growing this into my full fledged adventure (in my mind) of is NOT a one-shot! It will be continued!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Bioware characters, places or names (except for the name Lynnira).
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The rain and wind rocked the circle tower beyond the belief of the warden crumpled far in the corner. Fight off hordes of darkspawn? No problem. Kill more than enough abominations to last a life time? Cake. Be shaken about in a storm? Not her cup of tea.
She could feel the eyes on her as her green face was tucked between her knees. Her arms around her tightly, muttering prayers and swears alike. The grey warden felt pitiful. Another gust of wind pressed against the tower unappealingly. Her face blanched as she pictured the tower crumbling into the dark, foreboding waters of Lake Calenhad. "Makers Mercy, make it end." She whispered to no one in particular.
A little chuckle left the tightly pressed lips of her fellow Warden, back against the wall nearest her. Her ghost-blue eyes rose to give him a steady glare.
It had been maybe two months since she'd agreed to forsaken her home to join the wardens. Two long months since she'd seen Highever. The other Warden barely knew her, and this was his only advantage against her. Thankfully her other companions were much less cruel for her falling out. Leliana sat beside her, a hand rolling in soft circles on her hunched back, probably just being kind enough to hide her laughter. Sten stood stoic and terrifying as ever. No words left him, but she was hardly surprised. Morrigan was not with them, after plainly refusing to come to the circle where 'weak mages allow themselves to be herded like sheep', her words, of course. Her faithful war hound curled on her other side, nuzzling his nose into her calf.
"Oh shut up, Alistair!" She hissed in his general direction, before her stomach clamped and she hid her eyes once more.
"But this is so silly! Scared of a little thunder and lightening? Our big bad leader doesn't like big noises?" An urge rose from her to walk over and smash that irritating smirk from his face, but the thought of moving while the tower rocked back and forth… ugh, the thought made her queasy.
"Well, at least it's an excuse to sleep indoors instead of the cold, hard ground, yes?" Leliana interjected. Her soft eyes fluttered up towards the Knight-Commander standing nearly as stoic as Sten before the statue of Andraste then to First Enchanter Irving, sharing hushed words with their newest travelling companion Wynne. All eyes missed Cullen, staring with unease towards the group. His words of them being demons in disguises already shot down at least three times.
"I'm only human," the Warden whined as Alistair continued to laugh at her ridiculous behaviour. "I'm sure you're scared of silly things too." Her lips curled into a pout.
Alistair didn't have a reply for that one. Or maybe he did? But didn't want to give her fodder? She didn't think Alistair was smart enough for that one. "We couldn't have travelled across the river tonight." He shrugged.
The conversation dimmed to a dull hum in her mind. The rushing winds against the stone walls became a lullaby, the circles of the former lay-sister against her back just as comforting. Before they knew it, the Warden was asleep.
Of course, like each night, she dreamed of horrid things. The darkspawn voices scratching her mind, a hum threatening to drag her down into the earth. This night was no different. At first everything was normal, her band of followers and herself treading lightly through a deserted village. And out of nowhere darkspawn appear, tearing, biting and clawing at her body. Her own blood getting into her eyes, getting on the ground. Her companions turn on her, eyes red and blood-shot, sharp teeth glinting maliciously for her blood as they attack her as well. This would be where she'd give up, break down and surrender to her dream.
Not this night.
Screaming she swatted at them, suddenly naked and unarmed. Hands grasping at her body, nails digging into her skin, teeth biting her and tearing her flesh from her bone and she kicked, punched and screamed.
"Lynnira!"
She almost swears it's the Alistair-darkspawn yelling her name. But it can't be him? It's his voice, but he's attacking me!
"Lynnira!"
"Stop! Please!" Her own voice startled herself into awareness. Her silver-blue eyes gazing straight up into the vaulted ceiling of the tower. Strands of strawberry blond hair hung over her eyes. Why am I on my back? She wondered first off. Soon a face—his face—came into view. Alistair's golden flecked eyes shrouded in worry. "Am I… in the middle of the room?"
His face cracked into a grin, a bit thin lipped and his eyes still shrouded. He was so easy to read. "You started muttering and then you threw yourself into the middle of the room... and started scratching at yourself," he hesitated. "You alright?"
Lynnira Cousland sat up quickly; Leliana was sitting, wide-eyed and staring. Sten had tilted his head to watch the sceptical. The warden cleared her throat, tilting her head up slightly, a rush of heat touching her throat and moving up to claim her cheeks. "Uh… yes. I'm fine. Merely dreaming."
His eyes didn't leave her frame for what felt like hours after that.
But light was entering the tower through the cracks in the door—morning was there. It was time for them to leave.
"Finally. We must continue." It was a shock to her that Sten had actually spoken.
"Yes. The storm seems to have passed." Leliana smiled reassuringly towards Lynnira.
Though she remained silent.
Quickly the group gathered their weapons and gave thanks to Gregior and Irving for allowing them refuge in the tower over the night.
Soon they were gone.
And by the Maker was she glad. After the gruelling hour on the cramped, rocking boat, the Warden was more than happy to touch solid ground once more. Looking back towards her little group she announced: "Let's never do that again." At least she made them laugh.
She'd always been told that to do well in life, you have to know when to laugh at yourself.
They were quiet along the road, until meeting with Morrigan, who outwardly showed her distaste of Wynne, or 'the sheep' as she liked to refer to her as. Lynnira was rather impressed that the two didn't begin to throw balls of fire at each other—though it would be an exciting change. She almost wanted to wager the fight with Alistair, but knew he'd only give her a lecture about apostates… Sigh, he needs to lighten up a bit. Damn.
Silence then washed over them as they marched on. She closed her eyes as a soft wind rocked against her heavy armour. She felt it brush though her clothing under the silverite breastplate. It shone brightly in the midday sun, her boots making a rhythmic noise as they clanked against the soft ground. Still wet due to the storm. For hours they marched in silence, stopping once to eat a bit.
While they were stopped, she removed her gauntlets and placed them beside her. Her helm laying in the grass next to them. Her eyes ventured up into the sky, the blue sky was quickly being shrouded in darkness. A frown touched her face. Another storm…
"Lynnira."
His voice jolted her into awareness. She swivelled her head to look at him. Getting a very good view of his knee from her place on the ground. "Yes, Alistair?" Had she ever noticed how the sun made his hair so very golden? He looked so… what was the word she wanted for that? Oh yes, overpowering.
"Are you feeling better?"
"I never felt wrong." She replied, put back. He must have noticed it by the look on her face, because he lowered himself into the grass next to her.
"Ow. Damn! How do you sit like this with all your armor on? It digs in the most irritating areas…" He was evading the point. She could tell.
A soft sigh left her lips. Pale, porcelain, like the rest of her skin. "Why do you bring up conversations and then get off topic?"
"Because I know it irritates you," he took one look at her expression and gulped, changing that course of action. "Well, let's see. Everything I come to talk to you about something, it's never good," Her brow rose as she waited. "Look, I was worried, alright?"
"I got that much. What about though—oh… the dream. Don't worry about it Alistair—"
He cut her off, it irritated her slightly. "But I've heard you mutter like that almost every night."
Lynnira's brow must've twitched or something, because he almost looked scared. "You… you listen to me when I sleep?"
Alistair was about to try to cover for himself, but he was cut off by Morrigan. By an angry Morrigan. "Will we dawdle here all day? Or can we move before the ground swallows us whole?"
The warden was more than ready to leave. Even though to must it must've been endearing to hear he listened to her sleep, she didn't trust him. How could she? She had trusted Rendon Howe once too. Look how that turned out.
With a mutter and a grumble about noisy people she rose herself to her feet. "Let's move."
They all followed without question.
They travelled as they usually did—silently. She found it awkward, not even Alistair was retorting back to Morrigan's obvious baits to get him mad. Leliana and Wynne's conversation seemed forced, to fill the silence. But forward they marched, Lynnira Cousland at their front.
"Can we please stop soon?"
Lynnira didn't even need to look back to know who was speaking. Spinning on her heel she gave him a steady look. "We rested not very long ago."
The entire party gave her a strange look. "My dear girl," started Wynne. "We've been walking for hours; the sun is nearly down…"
The Warden leading them looked to the sky her mouth forming a perfect 'o'. "We should… uh… set up camp then…"
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He didn't know what he did wrong! They were always joking around. What had he done to irk her so badly? Alistair's mind was rolling with the possibilities while he stuck the last post of his tent into the ground. The canvas shuttered in the wind.
He threw a glance in her direction. Her tent was up, but she sat outside it, poking the small camp fire that Morrigan had started with a thin stick.
"Your turn to watch tonight?" Alistair's voice seemed to startle her, he noted by how she jumped and looked up at him. She looked like a frightened animal.
"Yeah… don't worry. You're mostly safe." She gave him a small chuckle, but it seemed so forced so fake.
The sun was low on the trees. The sky was painted orange, pink and red. His eyes were drawn to her though. It was so odd for him, the little Chantry boy inside him was confused, but the hormonal man inside of him understood, but that part was so much smaller. She was still staring up at him from her crouched position from across the fire. The flames making her pale skin shine, her blue eyes glimmer and her armour sparkle. He looked upon her, taking her in. What was it about her that was so captivating? He wondered.
Alistair's eyes were still upon her as she stood to accept something from Leliana's arms. She was so much shorter than their Orlesian bard, nearly a head so. A complete head shorter than himself. He remembered their first meeting…
The mage across him scoffed, "Fine, get out of my way fool." Turned and headed towards the exit. He, himself turned to the newcomer, who stared after the mage with confused eyes.
"Isn't it wonderful how the Blight brings people together?" He looked down at the girl—woman? Before him. What was she doing in armour? Why was she armed? She looked too fragile to be a solider…
"What an ass!" Alistair stepped back in surprise. "I don't even know him and he already thinks I'm a fool. I didn't even get to surprise him." This made his brow shoot up.
"Surprise?" He choked out, surprised at her demeanour.
"Yeah. I mean, who just calls an innocent bystander a fool. I'm not even drunk and dancing… yet, I mean."
"I am… very lost."
"Well, I have that effect on people. Lynnira Cous—just Lynnira. You must be Alistair, yes?" The way her cheeks rose as she smiled caught his attention. As did her bright white teeth and full thick lips.
"Wait—you are the new recruit?!"
A pout touched her lips, and it suited her. "Is that a problem? I bet I could kick your ass any day."
His jaw must've dropped, because she chimed a laugh. "I must be scarring you. I apologize. But yes, I am. Duncan brought me here."
"Yes. I am Alistair. I'm very pleased to meet you, M'Lady."
She puffed out a harsh breath, "I thought leaving Highever would stop people from using that title. Please, just Lynnira. Or even Lynn if you wish." Something sad touched her eyes, but she hid it well.
He nodded dumbly. He did that a lot.
"Why are you staring at me Alistair? It's starting to creep me out a little." He was jarred back to reality by her voice—oh Maker her voice. He had once heard her sing something to Leliana, he thought he was going to die. Maker, why taint her? She has so much to live for… "Alistair!" She was suddenly right before him, and his eyes looked down to hers.
"Yes?"
"You never answered me. Are you sick?" A thin, carved brow rose at him as she questioned him.
Alistair cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm fine. Zoned out is all…"
Lynnira grinned and he blinked, was what he said funny? "I was joking, by the way. I'm not going to let anything happen to any of you." But her words seemed a bit more pointed.
He went to retort back, possibly something cheeky, maybe even funny. But a droplet of rain hit his nose. "It's raining." He noted, pointlessly.
The frown on her face said it all, another storm. "Thank you, General Obvious." Her voice was sarcastic as she seated herself once more by the fire, pulling the hood of her thick cloak over her head.
"At least I get a fancy title," he pointed out. Settling down by the fire, casual conversation flowed between Leliana and Lynnira. And as the stew was passed out, everything went silent. He had no idea how hungry he was until he ate.
But even then he was hungry.
And Maxwell was not happy by that. Maxwell being Lynnira's faithful hound, of course. His nose was deep in Alistair's bowl, licking up any remains. Growling something along the lines of 'Jerk, you always leave me something.' "Sorry. I was hungry." He replied, a little bit whiny.
Lynnira was aware of the exchange, "No wonder he likes you so much. Food. Here Boy, you can have mine. If I eat too much I won't stay awake for my entire shift." Greedily he hounded her food, Alistair felt a wave of guilt come over him.
He wanted to coddle her, treat her like a doll, tell her to eat up, to stay healthy—as much as she could, with tainted blood in her veins. But why he thought these things confused him. She's merely our leader, funny, rather attractive, but I've seen many attractive women in my day, yes? Right? Am I asking myself questions in my mind. I am losing it…
That sweet as honey voice interrupted it all, "You guys should sleep. Mostly you Sten, you carry second shift, right?" The giant just nodded and Alistair noticed a shiver run down Lynnira's back.
So, being just as faithful to her as her hound was, they all headed to their respective area's. Alistair to his tent, where he stripped down into his small clothes. But the night was cold, and the rain penetrated the thin canvas more than he wished it could. So, he pulled on trousers, before tucking himself into his blankets. Sinking into dreams…
Only dreams wouldn't come.
Something was wrong, very wrong. All he could think off was her. Smiling, laughing, threatening to fight him all of it. For hours he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, watching the droplets of rain slide down the canvas.
When suddenly lightening flashes like white steel through the sky, and a broken swear is heard from outside his tent. Alistair was tired, yes, he was disoriented as well, but he got up and peered out.
Though the fire was out, he could see her, curled up over her knees shivering, muttering and trembling.
He went to speak her name, but thunder trembled the ground as lightening streaked the sky. As the sky lit up, he could see her face and it nearly broke his heart. Her eyes were screwed shut, her lips pressed together tightly as she muttered swear after prayer after swear. Tears streaking down her face.
"Lynn…" His voice wasn't loud enough for her to hear, but at the rustling of the canvas, she turned to him, eyes widening. They were rimmed red as she sniffled once.
"Alistair…" His name barely left her lips when the lightening streaked across the sky. Sending her body into another fit of trembles.
Without one more thought, he was at her side. He drew her near and she clutched at him, the fingers that had been clinging to her cloak touched his chest. The rain spluttered over his skin but he didn't care. His strong features were turned down by her trembling.
He'd never seen her quite so… so… fragile. As his arms surrounded her he let her hide against his bare chest. "Shh, it's okay." He whispered softly, not even knowing if she'd hear over the gusting wind or the walls of rain falling down upon them.
The storm didn't pass, but Sten did come. She had heard him first and pushed Alistair away, shaking as the storm raked her body.
"You can sleep now."
And that was it. She didn't even look up Alistair before fleeing to her tent. He sat there for a long moment, until he realized how very cold he was.
He nestled back into his blankets soon after returning to his tent, yet once more, dreams would not come. He felt like an idiot. He should have said something, made her talk, weren't women susceptible to talking when they were upset? But then again, she was like no woman he'd ever met.
Once sleep finally did claim him, he was dreamless.
Morning came too soon for the tired man, weary circles hung under his eyes, but he could hear the bustling of the rest of them putting up camp. Why hadn't they woken him? He climbed from his tent precariously, the morning sun barely over the horizon.
"You finally join us," came Morrigan's tight and irritated good-morning.
"Sadly," He retorted back, rubbing a thick hand through his short golden hair, before letting it caress his thin layer of stubble. As he stretched and packed up, he took notice that Lynnira was staring at him when she could. It wasn't a glare, nor a lurid stare… she seemed more confused than anything.
Though, the moment they were cleaned up, she commanded them to continue.
They marched, and marched, and marched, then they ate lunch, then marched some more. Alistair swore he could see Redcliffe Castle in the distance, not even a day's journey. Finally, they stopped for the evening.
As the rest of the day had been, they set up their camp very quietly.
He overheard their leader speaking with Leliana, "It's so strange…" she had said. "Not one darkspawn in the area."
The bard ravished the young woman with laughter, grasping her by her shoulders and bringing her into her chest—why did anger bubble in his chest so? "Perhaps the Maker wishes us to have one day of peace, yes?"
"Well, he could have had better timing."
The laughter resumed. Night came and it was his turn for watch. The food had been eaten, the bowls and pots scoured and tucked away until the morning.
It was a warmer night than the last; no rain touched his armored body. For what felt like hours he sat out there, unmoving, only listening. Until the rustle of canvas on skin roused him, he tilted his head. It was Lynnira's tent, he waited, and he watched, until the woman fell from her tent, almost ungracefully. Although Alistair wasn't sure she could be ungraceful.
She looked up at him, and he was awestruck. He noted that he'd never seen her without her armor before. Lynnira was a very thin woman, one whom shouldn't be adorned in armor at least! A thin layer of freckles littered her skin, easier to see without the chunky armor on her body. A blush touched his face when he noticed just how womanly she was. All curves.
"I was hoping you hadn't fallen asleep yet," She said, with a little joking smile on her lips. Oh those lips. Alistair felt urges to pull her to him, and that blush increased on his face.
"No worries, Lynnira…" Only then had he noticed how he enjoyed how her name rolled from his tongue, "I try my best not to get everyone killed."
A giggle, soft and girly left her as she climbed out beside him. Settling into the grass, eyes intent on the small fire. "I should hope not, you're the only one here other than myself who knows how to use a shield, it's kind of our job not to let them die…"
"Them?" I mostly worry about you.
"What?"
"Wait… what?" His eyes opened a bit wide.
"Worry about me?" Oh Maker!
"Er. Yes. I mean… you are the only other Grey Warden… what would I do without you?" Alistair had to look away, the blush claiming his face wholeheartedly.
"I think you're lying," she chided him in a sing-song voice. "But that's okay… I… I…" Her eyes were on him, he could feel it. She was watching him, waiting for him to look at her. He didn't want to disappoint. His head tilted so their eyes would meet.
"I wanted to—I needed to thank you." She paused. Alistair noted just how her hair shone in the fire's light. "So thank you, Alistair."
His name had never been so wonderful to hear.
"Uh, well, um… I just… uh…" He continued to bumble about his words, but he stopped. He stopped everything. Because he felt something on his cheek. Something warm. Something of hers.
Her lips lingered over his cheek for a long second. "Thank you, Ser Knight." Lynnira's voice was soft, shy almost. Mocking him softly, though he didn't mind. "I don't think I'd have made it through the night without you."
"I don't think I'll make it through this without you."
Her warm smile lit up the night air before she said her goodnights and crawled back into her warm bed.
Alistair's mind was racing. His heart beating nearly through his chest. Tomorrow we see Eamon, tomorrow we continue this quest… tomorrow I'll see her again.