This isn't so much a straight up multi chapter fic like Aftermath and Absence as it is a whole bunch of one-shots that follow the same canon. Irene is my second favorite Warden(who ends up with my favorite Dragon Age man *cough*Yes, still). I put all these up on my deviantART account, but felt like they should be here, too. I love Irene just as much as I love Rahna. These will be much more hit and miss with when they show up, as most of my inspiration for their stories comes from art trades/commissions/requests that I get of my favorite couple(Couple, Rahna, not character!). :D They'll be pretty much in order, but there may be a few points when I hop backwards on the timeline. Don't worry, I'll note at the top when I do that, to avoid confusion.
Practice Makes Perfect
...
"No! I won't let you die either!"
"Ah, my love. You say that as if I'm giving you a choice."
oOo
The dreams were back with a vengence. Irene nearly swore as she shoved her bangs off her forehead, the sweaty brown strands clinging to her hand before sticking out in a multitude of directions.
"Andraste's flaming sword, I'd rather dream about darkspawn," the Warden Commander muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing as the memory of their last kiss assaulted her, the taste of sheer, fierce, desperate sorrow making her lips tingle. She shook her head and groaned, turning her gaze to the window.
The faintest hints of pink and gold were playing peekaboo over the horizon, but it was otherwise dark. Irene knew from months of experience that she wouldn't be getting back to sleep after a dream like that. Her eyes fell upon the greatsword in the corner of her room, and after a brief argument with herself about making a racket at this hour-even if she couldn't sleep didn't mean she should make it equally impossible for the others-she shoved back the blanket and crossed the room to pull on the leather armor she used for practice and snatch up her sword.
The creaking door managed to wake Kell, and the mabari whined softly. "Come on, boy," Irene whispered, allowing the dog to follow her. His stubby tail wagged as he padded almost silently after his mistress down to the training area.
She needed this. For more reasons than one, and Irene tried to convince herself this practice was more because her form was getting sloppy than because she desperately needed to hit something. After all, I nearly decapitated Anders rather than the darkspawn I was aiming for in those tunnels yesterday, she reminded herself, shuddering at the memory. Her strike had been just a hair too wild, and if it passed an inch from the mage's neck, it certainly hadn't been any more. She'd been distracted, and her control over the strike had slipped. Irene grimaced and focused on dragging out the practice dummies.
oOo
She'd been at it two hours, Kell watching silently from the corner, before she was interrupted just before unleashing a devastating critical strike upon the poor dummy that had been the main recipient of her frustration this morning.
"Commander."
Irene halted her strike mid-swing, and turned to chide the man, panting from the exertion of the last two hours. "Nathaniel, how many times do I have to tell you; you can call me Irene? We go far enough back for that."
A small smile pulled at the corners of the archer's mouth, but he didn't comment on the gentle reprimand. "I've been looking for you."
Irene tried to focus more on regulating her erratic breathing than the way her stomach flipped at that statement. Honestly, Irene, I'm sure he didn't mean it like that. What are you; a lovestruck fifteen year old? Ever since she recruited the man, he'd been making her heart do the same odd twist whenever he spoke to her. Even before she found Delilah for him. At that point, these feelings had been an annoyance. Now they were an honest-to-goodness problem. "Oh?" She let the greatsword's point drop to the ground and wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her other hand. "What for?"
Nathaniel took in the state of the practice dummy with barely a raised eyebrow. "I was wondering where we were going next."
"Now that we've solved the problems in Kal Hirol, I was planning on leaving for the Wending Woods after we'd eaten."
"Indeed?" He eyed the practice dummy again and smiled. "I suppose you've been busy working up an appetite then, Commander?"
I give up. She shrugged, her breathing finally slowing. "Well, practice makes perfect, so they say."
He walked closer. "Surely you aren't that bad."
She snorted. "You must not have seen me nearly behead Anders yesterday. I've gotten sloppy; I need to control my strikes better."
"I meant surely you're not so bad as to be driven to practice at absurdly early hours simply because you believe your skill to be lacking." He raised one eyebrow when she didn't reply. "I believe there's more to this then simply 'practice makes perfect', Irene."
Her head snapped up when he used her name. "How'd you get so bloody perceptive? Am I really that easy to read?"
oOo
"It's a talent," he commented dryly, earning a small smile from her. Maker, she was hard on herself. He could see it in her eyes; she really thought she needed to be perfect; perfect with that sword, perfect at hiding when she was hurting, perfect at soldiering on, perfect at being The Commander. "So what else had you out here-before the sun, if I guess correctly-taking out an inordinant amount of frustration on a practice dummy? And I do mean besides believing practice makes perfect."
Irene let out a wry chuckle. "I'm going to just stop trying to hide anything from you, Nate." She raked her fingers through her hair. "I...dreamt about Fort Drakon. The final battle." Her eyes closed. "Alistair."
Nathaniel could read the warning in her near-broken tone. She never talked much about the time she'd spent fighting the Blight, and even less about the last battle in Denerim, but from the little she had said-and the few things Oghren had let slip when drunk out of his mind-he knew enough to put the pieces together. Enough to know to either tread carefully or avoid this path altogether. "I see. And that's what brought you out here hours before anyone else would even be stirring."
"I can't sleep after those," she admitted, her gaze dropping and her voice barely more than a whisper. "I know from experience." She pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture he recognized from when she was younger, a sure sign of inner turmoil.
Seeing her suddenly so vulnerable may have been what made him step closer and rest one hand on her shoulder. "You know you don't have to carry so much alone, Irene."
oOo
"Who's going to want to help me, Nate?" She looked up at him, eyes full of past hurt. "You?"
"If you need me to, yes," he replied softly.
Maker, he's standing so bloody close. It's sodding distracting. Focus, Irene, focus. Irene fought back the persistent thoughts as she looked at Nathaniel. "Really?" She was so tired of carrying everything on her shoulders. She was a strong woman, stronger than most, but even she had limits.
oOo
"Really," Nathaniel promised as he smoothed back a couple locks of her hair that has fallen from behind her ear. He let his hand slide down her back until it rested just above her hip. She didn't protest, or step back, or hit him, so he let it stay there. So close. She was so close. And he'd have to be blind to not notice how much more...female she looked-and felt-in the close cut leather armor than her usual heavy plate set. Easy, Nathaniel. For all you know she just wants a friend. Oh, Maker, he dearly hoped not. "I will always be here for you. Be it as...as a friend-" The almost imperceptible slump that pulled at her shoulders gave him the last little bit of courage necessary to finish, "or more, if you want."
A breeze tousled her hair as a hopeful smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "More?" she repeated, her grip on the greatsword growing even more lax.
He nodded. "If you want."
oOo
She felt almost giddy. Irene fought the rising urge to just giggle, as such an action would be completely un-Commander-like of her, and bit her bottom lip. "Well, I most certainly do, Nathaniel. I do need to warn you about something, though."
"What's that, Irene?"
Maker's breath, she loved the way he said her name. Are you sure you want to do this again? And so soon? She shut out the worrying whispers of the past and smiled at the man who offered to help her face the future. "I'm a mite rusty when it comes to relationship that go beyond friendship."
His low chuckle was quite possibly the most wonderful sound she'd ever heard. "Well, like you said-" He kissed her forehead "-practice makes perfect."
A/N: I just want to say, much as I enjoy the idea of all that lovely tension that could come from the Cousland/Nathaniel pairing, Irene ended up with him for the simple reason that she and Rahna were my only Wardens who weren't still in a state of pure bliss with Alistair at the time I started writing these. Plus, her and Nate just fit so darn well, personality-wise.