The Warden
The night fell deathly silent as Neotie, one of the last two remaining Grey Wardens, crossed over to the warm, leaping fire from her dusty tent. The young girl took her place on a small log.
The mystical orange and red light danced across her face, obstructing the view of her Dalish markings.
Neotie was tired; much too tired to move. She stared into the fire, begging the flames to engulf her fully.
Across the way sat Alistair, looking on with concern at his fellow Grey Warden. He – along with his companions – had watched her body deteriorate over the past few weeks, and although she told no one the source of her discomfort, Alistair knew what was haunting her deep inside.
"Stop staring at me Alistair!" she barked, breaking the fragile silence that hung in the air. Around them, crickets took up deafening chirps in response to Neotie's sudden order.
The kind-hearted Warden ran a hand through his blonde hair as he rose, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest. Neotie saw him and she knew what he planned on doing. Not willing to fight it off tonight, she moved over to make room on the log for her friend to sit. He accepted it with a smile and took the seat with a burdened sigh.
For a moment, a hush stretched between the two Wardens. Then, Neotie spoke. "Whatever it is you have to say, Alistair, please say it and be done." Her slight voice was forced and full of obvious exhaustion.
"You know," Alistair began, looking at Neotie's beautiful face illuminated by the firelight, "when Duncan first told me about the Archdemon, I disregarded it. Like a fool, I believed I would never have to face such evil. And, now, here we are. I – we have to defeat an entire Blight." His light eyes were full of something Neotie couldn't seem to place.
"And here we are…." she whispered, confirming it.
The last of their forces were gathered with the mages and now they were on their way back to Arl Eamon. Soon, these two Wardens would have to become heroes and save their home from the Blight.
"You're scared…" Doubt filled Alistair after the words were out; he hoped his bluntness wouldn't anger Neotie further. You came over here to help, after all, not make her angry.
"So are you," the clever elf countered.
"Maybe," Alistair shrugged, relieved she didn't lose her temper with him. "But…I know it's inevitable, so I do my best not to think about it."
She weighed it for a moment as she chewed her bottom lip violently. How could one not think about it? To ignore the fear would be irresponsible; to call upon it every waking moment is to condemn one's mental state to death. Never in this Dalish hunter's life had she truly feared something so much. The Archdemon plagued her dreams – her life.
Neotie put a brave face on for her traveling companions, but when the cover of night fell and she shared her tent with Zevran, all of her bravery crumbled. He, too, knew the source of the Warden's worries, as Alistair did. The once-cold assassin attempted to comfort his lover, but he would be the first to tell you comforting isn't his specialty. For her, though, he put his heart and soul into it.
"How?" she asked. "How do you distract yourself from it?"
Again, Alistair shrugged his broad shoulders. "Different ways." He waited a moment before adding, "Try talking about it." With that, the would-be king strode away, leaving Neotie alone with her thoughts.
…At the Landsmeet…
"You're…making me king, aren't you?" Alistair's voice cracked nervously.
Neotie nodded, confirming his fears.
He placed his hand on her frail shoulder, looking deep into her ocean-eyes. "Then…I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" he sighed.
A sneaky smile spread across her flawless, Elven face. "Someone once told me to try not to think about it; your fears, I mean," she whispered, wary of the colorfully-dressed Nobles watching them closely as the old friends talked.
"Whoever told you that was seriously misguided," Alistair laughed playfully.
She kissed his cheek, gently, as the sunlight floating down from the windows mixed with her frustration and made her head spin. "It's a shame you think so…" her voice trailed sadly, losing itself in the rafters of the grand hall.
A pitiful smile formed on Alistair's nervous face. Despite their efforts to forget, both would remember Neotie's refusal of Alistair. She never loved him like she did Zevran, and Alistair knew it. The poor man saw it in her eyes whenever she looked towards her Antivan lover.
But, unknown to Alistair was another reason Neotie refused to become involved with her fellow Warden: she knew Alistair was destined to be king and rule over all of Ferelden. And nowhere could she find a place for a Dalish lover to fit into his hectic life to come.
Alistair took her fragile hand in his, studying her porcelain skin that melted into her Dalish tattoos and her flowing hair that fell down past her shoulders in beautiful cascades of gold. The new king mouthed the words "We are all doomed" to his striking Warden-friend, then he turned to address his new-found subjects, formally.
…On Top of Fort Drakon…
Neotie's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she finished off the attacking Shriek. Surrounding her were bodies that stretched forward in an infinite abyss – bodies of men, dwarves, elves, and darkspawn alike. The sky was as red as the blood that leaked out of their torn corpses as the Archdemon roared with fierce strength.
Here she was, fighting the notorious foe of her very nightmares; but much to her relief, she found that she was too busy trying to push through each precise attack of her bow to be afraid of the monster that haunted her dreams for so long.
In the distance, Wynne sent three darkspawn flying backwards and not far from her, Zevran decapitated a howling Shriek.
"ZEV!" Neotie screamed desperately when she saw a Hurlock charging for Zevran, blade raised high. It was useless; he couldn't hear her warning over the roar of battle and the wretched screams of dying soldiers.
Meeting the cold sting of the tainted sword, Neotie could hear his yelp of pain and surprise as if he was standing right beside her. Her crushed heart fell to the ground with him as the Hurlock pulled his blade out of her lover victoriously. Neotie shook with pure rage for the first time since the battle began.
Wynne instinctively ran to the fallen elf and began to heal him. But, Neotie saw nothing except the ghastly beast looming ahead of her.
"This…ends…now!" she growled, throwing her feet into a full-run. Adrenaline coursed through her veins like blood itself and it mixed with her rage – making her a force to be reckoned with.
Images of every person this Blight had caused her to lose flashed before her as she charged through the messy battlefield. Tamlen, Zevran, her whole clan, the innocents – glimpses of them all drove her forward to her target.
She sent a poisoned arrow splitting through the air; it pierced the Archdemon's eye, stunning it momentarily. With a howl of pure hate, she jumped as high as her short legs would allow, pulling her blade proudly into the air. Neotie's frozen dagger sank into the armored flesh of her opponent.
In retaliation, the fiend thrashed its body to the side, sending her crashing to the ground.
The elf landed on her back and pain shot through her as she squirmed on the ground, gasping for the air her lungs refused to accept. All she could see were the blurry images of men fighting darkspawn before her and the repulsive outline of the Archdemon lumbering toward her.
Neotie couldn't move. Every inch of her tired body ached from the fall.
So here I am, she thought spitefully, about to face my death as I always feared.
She forced her eyes closed, waiting for the sure-end of her empty life.
Time felt as though it stood still in the moments that followed.
Alistair, finishing off a Genlock, saw the girl lying helplessly on the ground. The Archdemon was almost on top of her, ready to wipe her away from existence. His whole body screamed with refusal to lose another to this Blight.
Without a second thought, he sprung into action, closing the distance between them with great speed and sinking his sword deep into the dragon's side. To Alistair's relief, it turned away from Neotie – as he had planned. Before the Archdemon could execute a crippling attack, Alistair commanded Wynne to heal the Warden, who was paralyzed with pain and fear on the cold ground.
Purple flames swallowed Alistair whole. The evil fire smelled of death and darkspawn taint, not of smoke like he had expected. He coughed violently, and covered his mouth and nose with a shaking hand.
Just when Alistair had accepted sure-death from the fire, the flames ceased and the roars from the Archdemon silenced. When the hazy smoke cleared, Alistair looked on in awe as Neotie charged forward, darkspawn blade in hand. She dodged the gnashing teeth of the creature that threatened to devour her whole, and she slid underneath with ease – cutting open its underside completely. Dark blood splattered her face and the area surrounding her.
Its eerie taint caused Alistair to shudder.
Neotie ignored the blood, and thrust her blade through the Archdemon's neck – sending its ugly head rolling across the roof of Fort Drakon.
Screams of joy radiated from the cheering soldiers. As they hugged each other in relief, the sky returned to a darkened blue, and grey clouds hung low. Everyone half-expected the sun to shine full-strength, despite the time of day. A great hush fell across the land.
The deed was done; the blight was…over.
As Neotie wiped the blood from her creamy skin, Zevran pushed his way through the happy warriors. A smile brightened his tanned face when he saw her sitting against the low-lying stone barrier that surrounded Fort Drakon's roof. All Neotie could do was stare down at the army below as the darkspawn retreated – leaderless.
She saw him, and tears filled her eyes. He's alive, her mind screamed.
The Hero of Fereldan dropped her bloodied blade to the ground with a yelp and the two lovers ran to each other, maneuvering deftly through the mangled corpses.
Zevran wrapped his arms around her petite frame, tightly. She whispered inaudible words through her tears of pure bliss as she held onto him for dear-life. And Zevran stroked her golden hair gently.
The soldiers stopped to watch the two embracing – it warmed their hearts after seeing all that had happened in the past weeks.
Applause began to boom through the crowd as Zevran kissed Neotie's lips with relief and passion. She laughed through her tears as he held her close.
In that loving moment that rose around them, Zevran swore to himself he'd never let her go.