Disclaimer: I do not own DA:O or any of its characters.

Warning: This chapter contains sexuality and gore.

13. Clarissa

"I-I'm so sorry Oghren," I say softly. "I wish there was more that I could do." Oghren waves off my condolences and feigns indifference, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. I've just murdered his wife. The Deep Roads nearly drove me insane. Hespith's chants echoed through my mind. After we had defeated the broodmother, I stopped talking. Alistair attempted to strike up conversation several times to no avail. The only time I speak are the words of apology to Oghren upon killing Branka. Harrowmont is the chosen king. We have gathered the support of the dwarves against the Blight. Orzammar had been our final trip after having gained the assistance of the Dalish elves.

When we return to camp, I sit by the fire and stare into the flames. The taint had changed them into unspeakable horrors. I comfort myself, rocking back and forth. I do not feel my lips move, do not hear the whispers spilling forth.

First day, they come and catch everyone

(He will surely want to join me in the Calling…)

Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.

(Will he escape, or will he be part of the meal?)

Third day, the men are gnawed on again.

(To partake in the flesh of my love…)

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

(What fate lies beyond this Blight?)

Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.

(Am I the other girl? When will it be my fifth day…)

Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.

(I hear the screams…)

Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.

(The taint that spews forth even now…)

Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.

(Please, let him be dead before they take my body…)

Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.

(The hunger from the Joining…)

Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.

(I am one with the Taint...)

I feel the icy blast tearing me from my trance. Morrigan stands before me, empty bucket in hand. "This ends now," she snaps. "You are not them, Clarissa. They were weak. Do you think so little of yourself that you truly believe you could ever become that disgusting creature in the Trenches? Snap out of it, fool!" She tosses the bucket aside and it lands on the ground with a heavy clang. My tunic clings to my body, icy water drips from my scalp to my shoulders, down my back and chest. She turns to Alistair. "Make yourself useful. Dry her and keep her warm. She should be susceptible to your comforts now." Morrigan storms off to her tent, and I watch her leave, mouth agape.

"For once I actually agree with her," Alistair smiles at me. "You will never turn into that scary blob thing. I wouldn't let it happen, for one. And also, I don't think tentacles suit you very well." He gathers me into his arms, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "You're all wet. Let's get you into some dry clothes." He scoops me up and carries me to my tent. Once inside he strips me of my soaking linens, which he tosses out the tent flaps. "We'll deal with that later," he winks at me. Before he can begin dressing me I pull him down toward me, desperate for his touch. "Thank you," I whisper into his ear.

"For what?" he asks.

"Just…thank you. Can you sleep in my tent tonight?" I ask, unable to mask the need in my voice.

"What can I say? Your wish is my command," he replies, his head dipping low to kiss me softly. Our coupling that evening is not driven by lust. We both feel the need to be a part of one another, two pieces of a puzzle coming together to form a whole. He shudders above me as I whisper his name. Our desire is sated for a time, but we soon find each other once again. I am nearly undone when he kneels before me and tastes me for the first time, his tongue probing my folds. My fingers tug at his hair, begging for release as I buck my hips and rub my sex against his mouth. My eyes roll back as I call out his name, louder this time. He revels in the moment, tells me that he loves hearing me call out his name, tells me that for every time we make love, he will not stop until I've screamed his name at least once. I can't help but smile at this. I roll on top of him and take him inside of me. He places his hands on my hips and guides my movements. He whispers my name countless times, and I must admit that the effect is just as strong for me as it is for him. We reach the crescendo and I collapse on top of him, snuggling into his chest. We fall into a deep sleep, still joined together while we enter the Fade.

Red. Everything is red. Someone is screaming. That someone is me. So this is what Oghren meant?

I do not recognize the body that lies beneath me. One of my daggers is buried in his face, his eyes, once two separate sockets, have now been joined together by the red steel of my blade. Grey matter oozes from multiple orifices. My breath comes in ragged gasps. Where is my other dagger? I look behind and down. This corpse has been eviscerated, the entrails spill forth into the cold stone of the floor. Sweat pours from my brow. My shoulders rise and fall in exhaustion.

"Congratulations, Warden. You're officially a Berserker."

I glance up at the dwarf. He's grinning down at me. The memories finally return. Howe has died by my hand and my family has been avenged. I look down at his bloody form beneath me. I can vaguely make out his large crooked nose, though it has been slightly rearranged on his face. The bastard has paid for his treachery. Mother and Father would be proud. I grasp the amulet that my father had given me on our quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I wonder idly if he would still call me Pup if he saw what I'd done to Howe. Perhaps Bereskarn was more astute. I let loose a peal of laughter and am mildly perturbed at how hysterical I sound. I nearly jump when Alistair places a hand on my shoulder.

"Clarissa? We should leave."

I nod and rise from the blood and gore that surrounds me. I have completed this task, and should I die today, I will die knowing that I have fulfilled my parents' last wishes. I killed Howe as a Cousland. I leave his rotting corpse as a Warden.