Elissa simply could not sleep. The once blissful nights she'd had no longer came. Her nightmares were worse and she found there was little she could do. Even with the death of the archdemon, she found no peace. Her nights became haunted with images of his face. The sound of his voice. And those small, endearing gestures he'd do to show how much he loved her. Or when she'd wake up in a cold sweat from her nightmares. He'd whisper against her ear in the darkness, murmur sweet nothings and kiss away the pain and the terror. And sleep would return.
But now she had nothing. No one. Her companions, the ones she'd called friend had scattered to the four winds. No goodbyes. No words on where they went or how they were. Elissa had never felt more alone in all her life.
And as she walked the cold halls of Vigil's Keep, not even the fond memories of her lost love could warm the ice settling over her heart.
Her laughter had become a hollow echo of the joy she'd once felt. Her eyes, once they shimmered with all the warmth and care in the world, now sunken and empty. Grey in the most dismal of ways. Dark circles marred her once graceful features. Features that once sported a frequent smile. A laugh on delicate lips, now worn and thin. Cracked and neglected from disuse.
Oghren's boisterous tales of the "good old days" did little to stir her soul from the abyss. Anders' playful antics annoyed more than amused. Even the gentle purring of Ser Pounce-a-lot grated her nerves more than soothed her spirit. None of them could fill the hole in her heart.
As Elissa trailed down the dark hallway, her bare feet shuffling softly against the stone as she moved. She had no goal, no purpose. She merely walked. A dried rose in her hands, the petals long since wilted, the color a mere shadow of what it had once been. She thumbed it carefully, eyes glazed over as she stared at it. The memory of the day he'd given it to her bubbled to the surface.
"Do you have a moment?"
"For you, Alistair? Of course!" Her smile was wide, welcoming.
He grinned in return, fingers brushing over something in his hands. Elissa's eyes dropped, trying to see between his fingers what exactly he was holding. He seemed to be torn about something, nervous or worried. Elissa tilted her head, a hopeful smile on her lips.
"Look at this. Do you know what this is?" He asked, opening his hands to show her.
Elissa blinked. A pristine rose sat within his hands. Delicate and soft, all but calling to her. She extended one hand, carefully touching the petals with the tip of her fingers. She smiled, laughing gently.
"It's a rose."
"I picked it in Lothering," he admitted with a bashful smile. The barest hints of color began to touch his cheeks. "I remember thinking how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness."
Elissa's smile grew to an eager one, excited to hear his tale. Seeming to be encouraged by this, Alistair's own smile grew.
"I probably should have left it alone," he continued, "but I couldn't. The darkspawn would have come and their taint would just destroy it." Alistair chuckled nervously. "So," he drawled out slowly, "I've had it ever since."
Elissa's smile warmed even further as she stepped closer to him. Her eyes flicked up from the rose to his face.
"Alistair… it's beautiful. But," she chewed on her bottom lip slightly, "why are you telling me this?"
"I thought that I might… give it to you, actually." Realization dawned on Elissa as she blinked at him, unable to form words. He took that opportunity to continue: "In a lot of ways I think the same thing when I look at you."
"Alistair…" she breathed, looking at the flower again. "I… I don't know what to say."
"I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it?" He said quickly, nervousness returning.
Not exactly what I was looking for, she thought to herself as he fumbled for his words.
"I just thought… here I am doing all this complaining and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy."
"I don't need thanks, Alistair," she said softly, an airy laugh behind her words.
He shook his head gently at her, but offered a smile.
"I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness."
Elissa's breath caught in her throat as she looked at the flower. It was now pressed gently into her open palms.
"I…" she swallowed, struggling to find the right words. "Thank you, Alistair. I… feel the same way about you."
Tears began to fall as the memory faded away into the empty echoes of the hallway. Elissa stopped. The door in front of her was ajar, a soft flame visible within flickering with waning light. Her eyes followed the dancing shadows, but never focused upon them. Her mind still distant and lost. The tears flowing more freely down her cheek as her breath hitched silently.
Such was the same every night. Same time, same routine. A habit unable to be broken.
Unbidden, Elissa pushed the door open and stepped inside. The man sitting at the fireplace rose upon her entrance. As he did every night. Elissa stopped in the center of the room, her thumb still grazing over the worn old rose in her hands. This part was new, different. Never had she brought such a painful trinket with her.
Elissa finally looked up, eyes focusing on the broad-shouldered figure a few steps away. He moved closer to her, gently taking the rose from her grasp and setting it nearby on his desk. He barely made it back to her before she collapsed against his chest, hiccuping as an audible sob broke free.
Wordlessly he stroked a hand through her hair, shushing her and whispering a poor excuse of a lullaby in her ear. And as her trembling sobs began to subside, Elissa felt home again. Felt safe again.
"Nathaniel…?" She croaked out, voice hoarse, but searching - ever searching - for something to say.
Elissa was shushed, instead pulled along gently toward the bed. With care her light blue dressing gown was slipped off and laid across the chair by the fire. Without prompt, Elissa crawled under the blankets, soon joined by Nathaniel. His strong arms encircled her protectively as she turned and nestled quietly against his chest. Tears continued to fall, but they slowed and her breathing evened out into a steady, peaceful rhythm.
Such was the ritual every night. A ritual that Elissa unknowingly repeated, haunting Vigil's Keep like a ghost - lost and broken in the world.