AN: Just a small oneshot I wanted to write, after choosing to kill Connor in my second runthrough of the game. I found what Lady Isolde said to be horrible to listen to, and I just wanted to explore my character's reactions to what she chose to do (I know afterwards I felt really cruel 0.o). Don't like this story as much as 'Renegade' but meh. As always, I don't own Dragon Age and reviews are loved and rewarded with cookies xD (I would've use the default name for a female city elf, but I can't remember it at the moment, so I'm using the name I chose: Celwaen.)

Lament

" DON'T KILL MY BABY; I'M BEGGING YOU!"

Celwaen closed her eyes, trying to block out the screams from Lady Isolde. She could barely bring herself to answer the woman who was kneeling in front of her, cradling her son gently whilst her gaze burned into Celwaen, her eyes having a wild, desperate look to them.

" What about your husband? What if Arl Eamon dies?" The elf forced out an answer, her face stoic as she attempted to detach herself from the situation.

" You...you're a woman. What if this was your son? Tell me you wouldn't move the mountains to save him!" The words slammed into Celwaen like arrows and she froze, attempting to push back any maternal instincts that were urging her to stop, to save the boy.

" Please don't make this harder than it is" Celwaen's voice shook, betraying her emotions. Insults flew from Isolde, and finally, she gave in unable to stomach the thought of sinking her blade into the child.

But too late.

She listened, as Isolde spoke to Connor, as the demon took over him once more. Then, she heard his cries of pain as he begged his mother to make it stop. And finally, Isolde spoke to her.

" Please...leave me alone with him. You were right. He can't be helped."

" I'm very sorry, Lady Isolde". The words were choked out, as the elf bowed her head, shoulders sagging in defeat.

" As am I." The woman replied, voice laced with pain and anger. She glared at Celwaen, before speaking again:

" I am his mother. I brought Connor into this world; let me do what must be done. I beg you."

" As you wish". Celwaen whispered, backing out of the room and motioning for her companions to follow. Her eyes began to glaze with tears as she heard Isolde comfort her child.

" Sshh everything is going to be all right baby...Just...Close your eyes for mother..."

If they spoke to Isolde, after that deed had been performed, Celwaen did not hear herself talk. After Teagan had been informed of the events, and after she had agreed to search out a holy relic to save Eamon, she surrounded herself with a numbing haze speaking little as her group made their way back to camp.

Her companions were watching her; she knew that much. She could taste the anger and disappointment that radiated from them all; even Dog, her faithful mabari had a certain coldness in his eyes. Celwaen shuddered involuntarily; those who had become a sort of family now looked at her with nothing short of contempt.

It was only a matter of time until the subject was brought out into the open, although she was surprised that it had been Alistair who had raised it. She had expected a speech about honour from Sten, or perhaps a lecture about Connor's innocence from Leliana.

She had not expected the former Templar to approach her; Alistair who had bowed to her authority constantly since Ostagar, he who had always understood the difficulty of being the leader and having to make choices that nobody wants to make...

Yet here he was, seething with passionate anger as he shouted at her, oblivious to the shocked looks from the rest of the group. It had begun quietly enough, with a simple question from him:

" Now that we're back at camp, I want to talk about what happened. At Redcliffe."

" You were there. You saw what happened"

"Yes I know I've had some time to think about it now." Alistair's voice was deceptively calm, before the accusation fell from his mouth.

" You killed Connor. You killed him. A little boy. How could you do that?"

His tone, and the sharp, punching words he used made her snap.

" Actually," Celwaen hissed, meeting his gaze as she looked up at him. "Lady Isolde's the one who killed Connor". It was a cheap shot, but she was rapidly losing the desire to remain civil.

" You know what I mean! Do you think she would have killed him if she didn't think you would have done it yourself?" Alistair was yelling at her; he had never spoken to her in such a way. Every word he threw at her was stabbing her like knives. But, Celwaen refused to give in, spitting out a retort.

" Maybe you missed the part where he was possessed by a demon?"

There was silence, for a moment. Alistair stared at her incredulously, almost unable to believe that this was the same elf talking whom he had met at Ostagar. Where had her kindness gone, her sympathy, here sense of humanity?

" This is the arl's son we're talking about here. What d you think he'll say when we revive him?" Finally, a reply. Alistair's voice was quieter now, but Celwaen heard the fury behind his seemingly composed question.

" He'll see that there were larger things at stake"

" I just don't know how you could do it, how you could make that decision. I owe the arl more than this."

" A decision had to be made. I made it." Celwaen spoke coldly, before stalking off into the forest that lay on the edge of the campsite. She was vaguely aware of Alistair shouting at her to come back, that it wasn't safe at night. She laughed bitterly at his concern; he could not speak to her like that and then expect her to go running back to his arms mere moments later. And so, her companions watched as she disappeared into the trees.

She started crying as soon as she was sure they could not hear her; great, gasping sobs that wracked her entire body as she leant against a tree. Her hands covered her face, occasionally clawing through her hair as she cried, before she wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling her knees to her chest. Celwaen dimly realised it was raining, as though the sky was crying with her; the only source of sympathy she could find. Salty tears mixed with droplets of water from the foliage above, and she took comfort in the simple sounds of the forest. Here, there was no Alistair to provoke her, no Dog to glare at her...And no Lady Isolde. Fresh tears fell as she remembered what the Arlessa had said to her; what if he was my son, what if he was my child whom I had raised, what if he was my baby, whom I had nurtured within myself for nine months? What then?

Then, she knew, she would have gone to the Circle. She would have investigated any other possible way of stopping the demon.

And Celwaen knew she would have died for him, as Isolde had offered to do.

She sat there, sobbing, paying no heed to the time that passed. Her leather armour was waterlogged and she could feel the pools of water that were beginning to form in her once sturdy boots, but still she remained seated at the base of the tree for just a few more hours.

He was still awake, when she returned. Alistair watched, hidden in his tent, as Celwaen stumbled into camp. She was shivering, her black hair tangled and soaked and drying tears were still visible on her face. He knew he should go out and say something, apologise for his words, hold her as she cried. But he didn't. He watched for a few more minutes as Celwaen wiped her face dry with her sleeve, and pulled a comb through her knotted locks. She began to look normal again, her face hardening into the stern grimace Alistair had grown used to over the past few weeks. With a sigh, he lay down to sleep, driving away the image of the lonely elf sitting outside by the fire.

It is hard, Celwaen thought absently as she looked around camp the following morning. Hard to believe that they are all acting so...normal, towards me. But she was grateful for the normality, even though she saw it as a simple facade. She returned to organising her pack, announcing loudly and with a commanding tone that the group was to head towards Denerim, to seek out Brother Genetivi, and that everyone should be ready to leave within the hour. She carefully stored an injury kit in her pack, concentrating on her task until she felt him watching her. She turned, and saw him looking at her with sad eyes.

Oh Maker, tell me he did not see me last night...

She cursed herself for being so stupid, for allowing herself to let her guard down when she wasn't truly alone. He had no right to feel sympathy for her, not after his words the previous evening. She stood, and walked slowly past him on her way to talk to Dog. As she passed, she didn't look at him, but spoke softly:

" Tell anyone what you saw last night and I'll feed you to the darkspawn".

It is hard, Alistair mused as he watched Celwaen organise her companions. Hard to believe that just hours ago she was crying, was as fragile as glass. He shook his head as he watched her sadly, trying to work her out. She was a puzzle; someone who was hardened and tough in front of others, only allowing herself to break down when she thought nobody could see. Just as he was thinking it over, she turned suddenly to look at him.

Oh Maker, she knows I was watching last night. And she's going to kill me.

She was striding towards him, purposefully staring into the distance towards Dog. But he heard her whispered threat as she passed him:

" Tell anyone what you saw last night and I'll feed you to the darkspawn".

Alistair got the uneasy impression that she wasn't joking.