This collection of drabbles was for a Cheeky Monkey challenge to:
Capture the moment of your choosing-no restrictions on character choice, DA:O, DA:A, DA2, romance, humor, whatever you like. But, it must be 100 words exactly (not including the title if you choose to include one), no more and no less.
I. Morrigan
He had once been hers.
Tonight, in the darkness of his desperation, he had been hers once more. The way out she offered had been too tempting, as she had known it would be.
At the height of their passion, it not her name that emerged from his choked groans, but the bard's. The one he had turned to when she drove him away.
Alone in the rumpled sheets, she let the tears fall in great gasping sobs; a weakness she would never admit to in the light of day.
He was no longer hers, but she was still his.
II. Mahariel
The petals of the rose were soft beneath her fingertips. Such a strange gift (she thought that's what this was) from the shem.
He had been shy and bumbling (even more so than usual), scarcely able to meet her eyes as he clutched the blossom in his hands. The words had poured out of him like the waters of a stream, bubbling over the rocks.
Yet, there had been a flutter inside of her as his hands brushed against hers. She didn't know what it meant, but she blushed and bumbled a little too.
Perhaps what he had was contagious…
III. Oghren
There had to be more somewhere. He rummaged through the Warden's pack once she disappeared into the trees with the little pike-twirler. They would be gone for a while, he knew.
Sod it all! Where was it? His fingers closed on a long glass neck, cool and comforting as a mother's touch on a feverish brow. He nearly wept with relief.
The fire crackled fitfully as he sat down with a thump to consume his prize.
Only when he had reached the bottom of the bottle did Branka's presence finally recede.
She would be back. There had to be more.
IV. Anora
She knew he strayed—how could she not? The servant's whispers and his eyes told her all she needed to know.
She tried to be more beautiful, more intelligent, more perfect than the others he pursued, but it made no difference. She gave him everything, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
More blood on her smalls. Another failure.
She said nothing, even when he slipped from their bed, thinking her asleep.
Her pillow swallowed the screams of her grief, the one thing she would never share with him, in the hope that he would love her. Some day.
V. Cailan
Her presence is stifling. Cool eyes always watching, judging.
It's a relief to escape, though he knows it hurts her, to find comfort elsewhere. They accept him as he is and he welcomes the release they provide, no matter how brief the respite.
His guilt lies heavily on him, like the winter blankets draped over them in their marriage bed. Her breathing grows deeper. He grows more restless. As he slips away, he hears the first sob before she buries her face in her pillow.
He pauses and listens for a moment, aching, before closing the door softly behind him.
VI. Prompt: 'Banana'
"Mine is the longest," Alistair said, glancing over at Zevran.
"That may be, my friend, but mine is thicker than yours."
"Parshaara. Mine is both longer and thicker. This argument is unnecessary."
Elissa rolled her eyes. "Boys."
Leliana smiled. "I can stop them. Watch this."
She strolled over to the log where the trio of men were sitting and calmly peeled her banana. With a wink at Elissa, she slowly took the entire length into her throat before removing it with a giggle.
"Done now?" She nibbled the tip as she walked away.
"Vashedan," Sten whispered.
Alistair and Zevran nodded.
VII. Anders
There was nothing but running.
When he was free, he ran in the real world, the long grasses tickling his legs, the wind burning his cheeks.
When he was trapped, he ran in the Fade, where there was no breeze, no life, no hope.
They beat him, threatened him, locked him away. They didn't understand that he wasn't deterred, that it drove him harder to succeed.
One day, they would kill him, but that would not be today. He was running, free, his heart bursting with the joy of it.
There was nothing but running… until they caught him again.
VIII. Dog
He liked this human. Her bag always had plants that smelled nice. Some of them made his tongue tingle, but he ate those ones as well, just to be polite.
She liked him, too. Her eyes were warm, even when her tone was sharp, and her hand always dropped to that place behind his ear when he sat on her foot.
He did not like her quite so much when she was a not-human, as there were no treats, and sometimes she growled and showed her teeth.
Nibbling delicately on a sprig of elfroot, he waits for her to return.
IX. Hurlock
The song hurts. It pulls inside. Come. Follow.
He tried to not listen, but it was too strong. It thrummed in his veins and made his muscles twitch. Find me. I am lost.
He digs. They all dig. His brothers. He wants to stop, tries to stop, but the song is punishing and relentless. So close. A little further.
When they reach the great dragon's chamber, the compulsion is so intense that his bones resonate with its power. They surge forward, unable to resist, crashing against the great form in a wave of worship.
The Archdemon roars and they obey.
X. Sandal
They think he is simple, and he is.
As simple as a raindrop crystallizing into a perfectly symmetrical snowflake.
As simple as the cliffs along the shore, battered endlessly, but still tall, unyielding, and eternal.
As simple as a blade of grass bowing before the onslaught of wind and never breaking.
As simple as a new life, tiny cells clustering—a heart, then a heartbeat, where once there was emptiness.
He is simple. They are right. But, he has a purpose, just like every raindrop, every stone, every plant, every creature.
Life itself is an enchantment, and he knows it.
XI. Prompt: What would happen if Duncan had some kind of Grey Warden brain freeze, went on a drunken bender and ended up recruiting the most unlikely Warden/s ever? No restrictions on the laws of space and time. (from another Cheeky Monkey challenge)
Duncan belted back another goblet of Antivan brandy. The new recruit had refused, so Duncan courteously downed his share as well.
"You see, the Wardens are very important." He tapped his finger on the recruit's nose. "We fight darkspawn. We stop Blights. We buy all sorts of griffin paraphernalia. Boosts the economy, you see."
The recruit yawned.
"Hmm, that's not enough for you? Well, we have a lot of secret rituals and there's the fabled Grey Warden stamina… very popular with the ladies."
The door burst open and Anders appeared.
"Andraste's arse, Duncan, what are you doing to my cat?"
XII. First Knight
She was trembling. His fingers trailed along the curve of her jaw and he pulled her close, brushing his lips against her forehead.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I'm sure." Her hands came up around his neck and tangled in his hair. She tugged him down, claiming his mouth.
"I love you." The warmth of her breath in his ear made him shudder as her body pressed into his, so unbelievably soft.
"And, I love you." He kissed her, deep and longing, until he was trembling, too.
He was hers. She was his.
Maker's breath, he was a lucky man.
XIII. The Deep Roads
The air in the Deep Roads smells like rot and horror and decay. The scent clings to her tongue, making her gag. The shadows here are as deep as the ocean, unspeakable monsters lurking in the black depths, waiting, hungry.
She will die here, most Wardens do, he tells her.
Scuffing her feet along the cavernous floors, she wonders what it will be like to come here alone, to enter willingly into her tomb.
It will not be quick or painless, she knows, but a violent burst of red.
She will not go easily. The walls will remember her name.