AN: Just a short, post-game drabble. Nothing major, only a little descriptive piece that I did at 6:30am after a sleepless night- my sleep is even more messed up than normal -_- But that is why there may be typos and whatnot. As usual: I don't own Dragon Age and reviews/favourites etc are loved :D
Silk
The dress was silk.
It rippled as she ran curious fingers down its length, almost looking as though it was breathing as the material moved gently at her touch. It gleamed, pure white in colour as a torrent of sunlight discovered it; the light tangled around the folds of cloth, encircling it lovingly and causing it to almost sparkle. She marvelled at the outfit, revelling in the beauty of it; relishing the prospect of what was to come. The garment represented all that was good; the love that had gone into its creation was as clear as the blue, cloudless sky outside. And yet...
The dress was betrayal.
And yet, despite the exquisite splendour that stood before her, the magnificence of the moment was juxtaposed with a suffocating feeling of treachery. Only in her heart would she admit that it was the wrong man who would see her dressed in such finery, the wrong man to whom she would pledge her body and soul in the coming hours. Such overcast thoughts, however, had been locked away, banished in favour of the frivolity that a wedding day called for. If they could see her now, her loved companions, they would see how her careful, perfect smile began to tremble.
The dress was pain.
But no, there were no friends to call on at this time; no grandmotherly mage to weep upon or Chantry sister to dry her dampening eyes. So the tears fell, dripping onto the stony ground; the only form of rain on a sundrenched day. It was a curious sight, for she made no sound, no unladylike howling or gasping as she stood in her chambers; no need for whimpers or cries of agony. For those close to her, had they seen her quiet weeping, would have understood that her silent sobs spoke volumes, spoke more than she could ever say.
The dress was grief.
She had not talked of him. The subject had become taboo; something that was whispered of in hidden corners where they thought she would not hear. She had heard. She had heard, mind screaming out in anguish as she kept herself from interrupting, from discussing him with others. And she had smiled a bitter, false grin as they called him the 'Hero of Fereldan'. It was those memories that released the grief as she stared at her wedding gown. He should be here still; he should be the one at the altar. Damn Fereldan. He had been her hero first.
The dress was acceptance.
Finally, the tears stopped and she smiled. A true smile, albeit sad and wistful as she imagined what could have been, but what would not be. She focused on the dress, eyes still watery, vision blurred. He had saved her. And she doubted that he would wish for her to fade away from the world, alone and in pain. Again, she affectionately caressed the wedding dress, the creases cascading through her fingers like water, like her unshed tears. Steadying herself, she began to prepare. It was a perfect fit, falling on her like liquid silver as it continued to shine.
The dress was love.
It was hugging her form; holding her as he had once done. No time for regrets, no time for tears though, as she found herself drifting dreamily down the aisle of a church, her brother at her side. The pain was still there, because he was not there. But another man was, who was looking at her with tender awe and a loving gaze that was so similar but so different to his. She took her place by her betrothed, studying him as they spoke their vows. And as she let go of the pain of Alistair's death, she smiled.
AN: Hmmm...I actually don't mind this story. In case you didn't really understand, the woman was Elissa Cousland and the man she was marrying was Teagan (and obviously this was after an ending where Alistair died). Just an idea that had been flitting around in my head, so I hope you like. :)