"We've been down here for days," Ariadne muttered, trying not to complain and failing. She was a Grey Warden after all, but she was also a Dalish elf and did not belong far beneath the Frostback Mountains in the Deep Roads of Orzammar. These were the lost thaigs of the dwarves, beneath rocks with a ceiling over their heads all their lives. This was no place for elves. The only familiar part about the Deep Roads were the intermittent hordes of darkspawn, but after all the party's time beneath the stone, even the clang of steel on steel and the twang of bowstrings was losing its luster.
Giant spiders were a nuisance and the small groups of darkspawn had become a bother rather than a threat. Spiders used to be respectful, docile creatures back in the forest when she hunted with her clan. The only killed those necessary for their survival and did not bother the Dalish unless in self-defense. These corrupted eight legged creatures in the deep roads were different. They fought to fight and killed for pleasure. They were tainted and twisted and Ariadne was sick of seeing their spindly legs sprint towards her as she pulled another arrow from her quiver.
She had never been a big fan of the suppressive nature of caves, but they had never quite gotten to her as her days in Orzammar did. She longed for the blue skies and green trees with the wind blowing softly through her long auburn red hair. Ariadne was reminded not for the first time of her clan, her Dalish brothers and sisters and her Keeper, Marethari. Memories of her elvhen brethren drifted through her mind in painful sequences, Tamlen in particular. Tamlen had been claimed by the darkspawn taint held in a corrupted Eluvian back before she had even become a Grey Warden. It felt like such a long time ago and yet it hurt like it had happened yesterday. She longed to see him one last time, but more and more, parts friend were already lost in the darkness of unrecoverable memories. She still blamed herself for his death, she always had. It was her fault he was lost and she was sent on to continue living.
She had never told anyone of her old clanmate. In fact, she had not told them much of anything about her past; not her clan nor her recruitment. She had not even told Alistair, the only other Grey Warden in their party and now one of her closest friends, after all they had been through together. The only ones who knew anything in depth of her past were Duncan and her Dalish clan, both of which were long gone by now. They, however, hadn't been with Tamlen as it happened. They hadn't seen what she saw when Tamlen's curiosity got the better of him and ended in his death. They weren't at fault for not pulling him away from the mirror or stopping them from approaching it altogether. They didn't miss him like she did.
And the painful memories of her clan weren't the only memories the deep roads brought Ariadne. The nightmarish scenes of their last visit to Orzammar, searching for Branka, also plagued her.
She felt the pressure of a gentle hand on her shoulder and was pulled from her thoughts.
"Are you alright?" Alistair's concerned voice drifted through the still air of the underground.
No, She wished to say, I am not alright. The flashbacks of the trenches and what the darkspawn had done to Branka's family, what Branka had done to her own, made her darkspawn nightmares feel as frightening as the simple nervousness of an elvhen child's first lesson in training. What had happened down in these thaigs and crossroads was a whole new level of horrifying that haunted her as they trekked through caves that threatened to swallow her. She was far from alright, but they didn't need to know that.
"I'm fine." She lied, keep her eyes away from Alistairs worried expression.
"Are you?" Zevran's smooth accented voice asked, "She looks paler than usual, no?" Ariadne scowled at the ground, not wanting anything to slow them down on their assigned mission to retrieve a lost sword from the likely dead husband of a noble woman. The sooner they were finished, the sooner they could leave, and Zevran's eye for details would do nothing but draw attention to her. Attention she certainly didn't want nor need.
Morrigan shrugged at Zevran's observation, but she too felt a small pinch of worry for her elvhen friend. Despite her isolated upbringings, she and Ariadne had gotten on quite well. Unlike Alistair, Ariadne enjoyed the mage's advice and friendship, however skewed it might be depending on the situation. Even if they were friends, however, Morrigan still felt she needed to hide her concern.
Alistair, however, didn't bother to hide it and continued to press. "Yes, Zevran is right. Are you sure you're okay? We can stop and rest for a while if you need to."
"No!" Ariadne exclaimed, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Alistair jerked his hand a few inches off her shoulder in surprise. She hadn't meant to shout, but the thought of spending any more time in the hell hole that was the deep roads was just too much to bear.
"Sorry, I mean, let's just find that sword and get out of here."
It wasn't just the deep roads that drove Ariadne to the brink, but the entirety of Orzammar. It was too dark, the magma too hot and the flames too red. It made her feel smothered, but it was likely that after they found the sword and left, her party members would feel it a fine idea to stay in an inn for a few nights before departing for the surface. The very thought made her want to scream."
"If you're feeling unwell, 'tis wiser for you to rest than push yourself to exertion." Morrigan spoke matter-of-factly. "That woman has waited nearly a year for this sword, she may wait longer if that is what troubles you." However, the look in Morrigan's eyes suggested she knew at least a part of the Warden's inner torment from these dark passages.
"No," Ariadne repeated, removing the previous desperation from her tone, "I'm perfectly fine. We're nearly there, we must press on."
Morrigan shrugged and feigned disinterest, Zevran looked skeptical, and worry continuously clouded Alistair's eyes, but none of them questioned their leader's authority. Ariadne held her head up and picked up a swifter pace while the other three fell in step.
It wasn't long before they came across another horde of darkspawn once again, which was no surprise. It was an ugly mass of Genlocks and Hurlocks that had not yet spotted Ariadne and her party creeping around the corner. She motioned for her friends to be ready and they silently drew their weapons while she readied her first arrow, carefully aiming it towards a nearby Hurlock head. Her eyes fluttered closed for but a moment, relaxing her body and calming her agitated mind. A grin spread smoothly across her lips. The thrill of the hunt never left her mind, and never would.
Ariadne let out a gentle breath through parted lips and loosed the arrow. The shaft flew from the bow in slow motion until the next thing she knew, it was sticking out from the skull of a dying Hurlock. It let out a cry of pain before hitting the ground and the others turned around to Alistair's war cry and Zevran's devilish grin as he spun his deadly blades.
Ariadne swiftly notched and loosed arrow after arrow, each hitting its mark. Standing near the back of the fray, she was able to get a full view of her enemies in range, but she had attracted the notice of several darkspawn archers. Darkspawn archers with arrows dipped in poison, which none of the party were aware of.
Zevran and Alistair quickly wiped out the darkspawn fighting melee in the chaors with help from Morrigan and her magic while Ariadne had taken all but two of the four archers. She had much more experience when it came to archery making these long range targets much easier for her to hit than for them to hit her. She readied another arrow when a pained cry from Alistair caused her to turn her attention away. He was facing an Alpha Hurlock and had been thrown off balance. She shot her arrow into a revealed weak spot in its thigh and the alpha slowed enough for Alistair to slice off it's head.
They exchanged victorious smiles, but the small victory was cut short when both the archers landed their hits as she was distracted. One landed in her right thigh and the other buried itself deep into her stomach. A cry of pain fell from her lips and she dropped to one knee, clutching the bleeding wounds. Morrigan shot a large fireball towards the archers and they were quickly dispatched into ashes. The battle had ended.
