I don't know. Yeah, but no, on this one. I skipped the Wilds, because I rewrote it several times and didn't like it.
Regardless, read, enjoy (or not), and review. Feedback of any kind is appreciated. Thank you.
Disclaimer: If I owned Dragon Age, I would have to do all my own voice-overs. That would be lame.
She woke, pain ripping down her arms. It felt almost as if she had torn the nails of her fingers from their beds in her struggle to get rid of the shadows.
Bringing her hands to her face, she noticed that they were in fact bleeding a little, torn down the sides. Between her fingers, she saw two concerned faces staring down.
Was mutilating hands uncommon? In the Circle, it wasn't exactly uncommon. A number of mages had woken from the Fade, with plenty of self-inflicted scratches in an attempt to rid themselves of demonic presences. She would know. Her episodes in the Fade were particularly unpleasant ones.
Duncan pulled her into a sitting position, and she held back her lunch. She should have drunk the blood on an empty stomach. It was like her Harrowing all over again. Except this time she was woken before the pain had completely passed. And it wasn't demons whispering to her this time. Something worse than demons wanted her. She could feel it in her blood - a need, a need to do something, to appease someone.
Alistair began babbling, and Gwyn winced. Every one of her senses were on fire. She could smell the stone that much clearer, brought to the forefront of her mind. She could hear the other side of the camp, and not just the dogs howling as they sensed a new danger. And, clamping her eyes shut, her vision was clearer, and faster. Images were burned into her eyelids.
It was just like the first time she had lyrium. Everything in her body went into a hyper mode, causing a continuous ache behind her eyes.
She opened her eyes once more, and grimaced.
Gwyn rolled over, and emptied her belly, nausea completely taking her over from how much the world spun. At least Daveth and Ser Jory's bodies were taken from the old Temple, even if the stench of blood was still lingering in her senses. There wouldn't have been anything left in her if she had woken up next to a corpse.
Alistair back peddled, stepping a few feet away from her. He didn't think it was healthy for her to be sick nearly three times in several hours, but he wasn't going to say anything. He was certain a mage wouldn't appreciate his opinion in this instance.
Duncan was more sympathetic, yet brought the mage to her feet, holding her still.
"How do you feel?"
A number of answers ran through Gwyn's head, becoming more and more sarcastic with each moment. Instead, with her mouth closed just a little to prevent her breath from spilling out, she answered.
"That was almost as painful as my Harrowing."
"Only almost?" Alistair piped up. He had heard about the Harrowing, in his training. He had been to one, but had never had the pleasure of the experience.
Gwyn smiled, but kept her mouth shut. She made vows to keep her silence. And for all her bravado and openness, she took her duty seriously. This was one of the times she would still her tongue.
Alistair saw he wasn't going to pull an answer out of the mage, and sighed. Duncan began speaking, about how the King had requested himself and Gwyn personally.
Gwyn found not a trace of jealousy in Alistair's face. If anything, he looked entirely relieved. Ecstatic, even. She was dumbfounded. Surely he would have been a little peeved, but he all but ran off, like he had a newfound freedom. Perhaps he did. She wouldn't know. She would look into it later.
When Duncan released her from his grip, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. Her body was on fire, but not in an entirely bad sense. There was some kind of strength sitting in her wiry arms now, that had never been there before.
She rolled her head to the side, letting it crack out the tension. Oh, yes, she could feel a lot more than relief flood through her. She flexed her fingers.
Huh, she thought, after the initial pain, this isn't too terrible.
So, she followed Duncan to the meeting, still wobbly from the blood, and could see the shadows creeping and growing, only before retreating as she passed. She pressed a hand to her forehead and focused on one shadow that creeped closer to her ankle than she liked. This was definitely worse than her Harrowing, even if both promised some sort of unnamed power. And she had more time to prepare this time around. That didn't promise much.
Throughout the meeting, she remained quiet for the most part, silently agreeing that they should wait for reinforcements, even Orlesians.
The Circle was generally neutral in politics, not entirely giving support to the reigning King, but not entirely turning their back either. They saw a strategy they liked, and they would support it. This was what Irving taught her when she was under his tutelage. She may not agree, but now she definitely saw that strength was in numbers. The darkspawn were taken lightly in the camp, and after facing stragglers in the Wilds, she knew what had to be done.
Duncan looked like he had an opinion, but his mouth remained shut. She was disappointed in him. Weren't Grey Wardens somewhat separate from politics, no? They did what they could to win. That was what Alistair told her. Right now, if Duncan had an opinion that would help them win, Gwyn would give it her support.
Loghain vehemently refused. No one could really blame him. He put an end to the Orlesian occupation - he had a right to turn down the better alternative, of course. Her opinion of him changed drastically once more, even if the new plan was pretty well thought out as well.
King Cailan turned to her, smiling despite the looks he received. He was King Maric's failure son, but Gwyn saw the tactical genius. He just didn't show it well enough to the people, who were technically his greatest allies - and enemies.
Same went for Alistair, oddly enough. In the Wilds, he had eventually handed a map over to her, when they were almost waist-deep in a bog, of course. But he had shown tactics in combat, there was no denying it.
Gwyn pondered this, but presented her displeasure at being sent on an errand - and with Alistair, nonetheless! The Maker hated her. Alistair may have been good at open combat, but she had grown weary of his constant remarks. It was odd for her, but she had made her distaste obvious.
Her pleas went unheard, as if she were just some child to be seen and not heard, and the meeting ended. She followed Duncan to the fire, where Alistair was waiting, pacing rather nervously Gwyn noticed.
Duncan relayed the orders, and Gwyn was pleased to find that she wasn't the only one annoyed at the prospect of missing combat. And to be babysat in a way by the Teryn's guard.
But, despite her dislike of Alistair, he managed to make her laugh. His comment of dancing the Remigold in a dress managed to pull a smile out of her, even if their hopes of battle died a truly horrible death.
"I think I'd like to see that."
He turned to her with a grin. "For you? Maybe, but it would have to be a pretty dress."
Gwyn just smiled, and Duncan sighed. He was somewhat glad they were getting along, but he wasn't so sure how long it would last. There was of course the whole Templar-Mage thing he was worried about, but that wasn't what Gwyn's animosity was about. In fact, she seemed a little relieved.
Irving had sent many a great letters once Duncan had made his wishes heard. Gwynaeth had held his interest, not only because of the way Irving had spoken about her, but what he had witheld from the letter, only saying when Duncan had arrived. Even Greagoir had thrown his two bits in on the mage's talents - not all positive, but enough to see that she would be suited for the task, eventually. Enough guidance, and she would be a valuable asset.
He considered introducing her to his friend in Orlais. The elven mage there would find Gwynaeth an interesting person, no doubt.
Duncan left the pair after taking none of their arguements into consideration. Gwyn watched as the rest of the Wardens went past, and she suddenly felt quite cold and small compared to the twelve. She eyed Alistair's armour for the briefest moment. His seemed a little lacking in their area, slightly bigger around the shoulders, and tight around his legs.
"What?"
Alistair became rather self-conscious under her scrutiny, and shifted from foot to foot.
"Nothing. Just … don't get hurt."
Gwyn walked off, and Alistair jogged after her, quite confused. She didn't like him, but now she was telling him not to get hurt. Alistair shook his head and stood beside the mage at the foot of the bridge. Later, he would ask her later.
The blood was pounding in Gwyn's head. It wasn't her own that was there now. It was the darkspawn's as well. She could feel it, and could see dark patches from the corners of her eyes. It didn't make the whole idea of going to war in the same day as becoming a Grey Warden any easier, and she finally sent a prayer to the Maker.
From the edge of the bridge, she watched the charge. Just like the rest of their soldiers, she grimaced at the sight of the darkspawn. They may have been just dark specks in the horizon, but she could almost hear then, with their unusual chatter. It was unnerving, and plenty of men seemed ready to throw down their weapons and run.
When the dogs ran into the lines, she winced. She hoped the mabari that was waiting in the pens, being treated by the flower she had provided, survived. It was battered, and weakened by the blood, but truly an intelligent creature.
They crossed the bridge with some effort, constantly moving between soldiers, and on the odd occassion, were thrown off their feet. Gwyn nearly wept when the statue in the centre of the bridge was blown to pieces. She felt a presence leave the beautiful stone, and Alistair had to give her a good shove in the back to keep moving. She thanked him, but sent him a dirty look.
They made it across the bridge, and the moment two guards ran down the steps to greet them, Gwyn knew the Maker was not on their side that night.
And from the carnage that greeted them as they battled their way up the Tower of Ishal, only to greet an ogre - of all things - Gwyn truly wondered if He was even there in the first place.
EDITED: 25/10/2011
