This is the first thing that I've posted on here, so I hope you guys will go easy on me just this once. The warden's origin is intentionally left vague, as it had no real bearing on the story. I really hope you guys like it, and don't forget to review it please! ^_^
She had turned down his gift. The rose had been beautiful, red and perfect; much like Alistair himself as he stumbled over his confession. She loved him so much, and she really wanted nothing more than to accept his rose and all the promises that came with it.
But she didn't. She couldn't.
If she wanted to lie to herself she would say that she couldn't risk being involved with someone with the Blight hanging over their heads and civil war breaking out all around them. She had to be their leader, the unifying element in their odd group. The kind of commitment that Alistair wanted she couldn't give him, not when she had to give herself to Ferelden, to their merry band of misfits. How could she selfishly give herself to one person?
If she was willing to be truthful to herself she would know that she was scared. She had lost so many things: a home, family, friends, safety, her future. All gone from her now. She had given her very essence to their cause. The Warden had to be everything to everyone. She was a hero, a friend, a sister, a comrade, everything and yet nothing at the same time. Was she willing to part with the one little piece that she had kept to herself? She didn't know, and that's why she turned Alistair down.
Maker, did she ever feel stupid sometimes.
She took a walk in the woods after to try and force her heart to accept the decision her head had made. Her heart would not let her be, however. Tears poured from her eyes, and sobs broke free of her no matter how hard she tried to rein them in. She cried, for the first time in nearly a year. All she had been through, all that she had seen, and yet this made her cry. One silly man who could make her laugh as easily as he could make her heart race and pound in her chest.
When all of her treacherous emotions had finally been spent for the moment, she made her way back to camp. Most everyone was in bed, expect for Sten, who was keeping watch. She nodded at him respectfully as she passed, and he nodded back. Some emotion, possibly sympathy, passed in his eyes when she met them. She cursed under her breath about the hazards of the camp's close quarters. She opened the flap of her ragged tent, and stopped.
There was the rose, carefully laid on her bedroll. She should've thrown it away, gotten rid of it somehow, but her heart would no longer be denied. She picked it up and held it close to her face so that she could feel the soft petals on her cheek. The rose lay on her pillow next to her as she slept, and for the first time in a long while her taint brought her no nightmares.
Perhaps she could part with that piece of herself and give it to him, and if she ever lost her way all she would need to do was go to him. He could remind her of who she was: a Grey Warden, a friend, a sister, a comrade, everything to everyone, but most importantly she was herself. He would not let her lose that.