A/N Hello All! I am so sorry this has taken so long to post, thank you to those that sent out PMs to check if I was still alive. Just to reassure everyone, I'm not abandoning this story at all. I've just had a flare up with my Cronic Fatigue, which sounds like an excuse to be lazy and not like a real illness at all, but its been so hard just to make it through the days I've been struggling to get anything besides surviving done! Hope this was worth the wait, I was so desperate to get something up, there maybe a few errors (I don't have a beta) so please let me know what you think.
A big shout out to my guest reviewer, you will forever be my first!
Bee xXx
An enormous dragon roared and called forth the corruption. She could fell the buzz in her own veins; the pull towards the hideous creature. The darkness followed the impossible number of vile and tainted beings clawing their way to the surface.
She was being dragged below the ground, towards the bowels of the earth; beneath even the deep roads. A song as beautiful as it was terrible pierced her soul; a sirens call for her doom.
She desperately clawed at the ground, trying to find the light; find the surface. She was aware of the two golden eyes watching her, waiting in the shadows. It was becoming increasing difficult to breath and in desperation she called out to the somehow familiar unnatural eyes. And then they were gone, melted into the darkness; and she was alone. Buried alive.
xxxxx
Rosalie sat bolt upright, gasping for air as though she had been under water for too long. Her head crashed into one of the men who were leaning over her.
Duncan was speaking, but over the beating of her own heart, she only caught the last word; 'welcome'.
'Ow!' Alistair slumped backward, a hand to his head; before he was knocked bodily from the stool he had been perched on, by the sudden appearance of an over-enthusiastic Mabari war hound.
Cerberus immediately began to lick every inch of his master's face; overjoyed that she was once again conscious.
Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, 9the presence of the dream still haunting her,) Rosalie felt her eyes begin to sting and her throat began to ache. She threw her arms around the warm familiar presence of her dog and held him tight, face buried in his light brown fur until she was sure she was not going to cry.
When she was once again sure she had control of herself she found the warm hazel eyes of Alistair and offered him a reassuring smile. He radiated empathy; he too had witnessed loss in his own joining, and understood the helplessness she now felt and wanted to offer her some small modicum of comfort. 'How do you feel?'
Duncan remained stoic, regarding her cautiously; as though expecting her to launch into a verbal tirade concerning the late Ser Jory.
Rosalie understood; knew that there was no alternative. She had seen him draw his sword first… And yet a life was a life; and his had been wasted.
She looked her new commanding officer in the eye and stated 'it's over. I'm fine' enforcing her words with a nod. Accepting her response, Duncan visibly relaxed; allowing he eyes to offer her a little warmth.
Alistair, seemingly unaware of the silent exchange reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 'Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my joining.' Rosalie found she was unable to answer this; the dream she had awoken from still to raw in her mind.
Noting her discomfort Duncan explained that such dreams came as you began to sense the darkspawn; that and many other things would be explained in the months to come. Unfortunately, the looming battle took precedence.
The Warden Commander smiled down at the newest member of the order warmly. 'Take some time; when you are ready I would like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king.'
Alistair was close enough to hear the small groan that escaped her lips before she agreed politely. 'Then I shall leave you for the moment.' Offering them both a salute, Duncan made his exit from the tent.
It was at this point Rosalie took in her surroundings. She was in the tent Alwen had been resting in prior to the joining sitting in a cot that was only marginally more comfortable than the bedroll she had been using.
She was entangled in rough spun blankets that can't have helped her suffocating dream. Judging by the light that streamed in through the tent flaps at Duncan's departure, she thought it to be around mid-morning.
Puffing out her cheeks she pulled the blanket from her neck and turned back to Alistair, who was righting the stool he had be sat on before their heads had collided. He suddenly seemed very tall and broad, standing in the tent; but somehow she found his presence reassuring rather than intimidating.
Her brow creased as she contemplated the warrior standing beside her, and for the first time in her life she was finding it hard to organise he thoughts. Putting it down to a side effect of the joining she forced herself to focus.
'How did I get here?' Her voice was a little more curt than she had intended, though why Alistair began to fidget uncomfortably was beyond her comprehension in her current state.
'Ah yes, well, as you were the last one standing… and you had been helping everyone else… I thought I would help you, you know… well I mean you fell and hit your head; I was a bit slow off the mark. Anyway I remembered you didn't have a tent, and I told Duncan, so I carried you. Here. Sorry.'
Rosalie watched the blush flood the young man's face; for a soldier he seemed very naïve. She briefly wandered how long he had been trapped in the chantry and why he had chosen to leave that life behind.
She smiled up at him. 'Then you have my thanks, Alistair. I take it everyone else was carried back to their respective tents?'
The ex-Templar rubbed the back of his neck seemingly unable to look at her. 'Weeell, most of them woke up and made their own way back. Alwen was still out of it, so Duncan carried him. You, err, well when you hit your head, we thought it would be best if a healer gave you the once over. Made sure you, um, didn't do any damage.
She shivered suddenly and realised that it was cold without the blankets swaddling her. Still regarding Alistair she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and noticed the distinct lack of her leathers.
Kicking the blankets from her legs she looked down and didn't recognise what she was wearing. The simple linen tunic came down to her knee, the sleeves had been rolled up several times to free her hands; and the lacing at the neck was loose, no doubt from her thrashing around in her sleep. It was most definitely not hers. And it was the only thing she was wearing.
Rosalie could hear the blood that was rushing to her face roar in her ears; she now understood why Alistair was unable to look at her. Thankfully although the tunic had slipped, it revealed only her shoulder and collarbone explicitly. However her chest had betrayed her, and responded to the temperature it was practically exposed to.
Crossing her arms across her bosom she began to look frantically around for her belongings. 'Um; here.' Alistair handed her one of the discarded blankets. 'Er, thanks. Alistair; where are my things?' 'Oh, right, yeah…'
He stumbled across the tent, nearly tripping over the stool he had just righted on his way over to a small trunk. 'Like I said, Duncan had a mage take care of you, lovely woman; very grandmotherly, made us wait outside… you, er, were a little feverish; to be expected after the joining really, I suppose… Anyway we were asked to fetch you something lightweight, but you didn't have… um; it was the only clean thing I had…'
Having extracted the contents of the trunk, Alistair thrust everything she had been wearing the previous evening onto her lap. 'Anyway, it's good to see you're alright. I'll, er, just go. Now.' Knocking into the stool yet again; the flustered blonde bid a hasty retreat.
Having watched him leave, Rosalie felt a giggle bubble up in her throat. 'Good thing we stayed put, ey boy! What a ridiculous way to start the day; and so unbefitting of a lady.' She looked down at the pile of armour and underclothes in her lap. Somebody had carefully cleaned her armour, but the darkspawn blood was truly ingrained in what she had been wearing under her leathers. She let out a short sigh and patted Seb lightly on the head.
Hopping down from the cot, she darted over to the trunk to examine its remains. There was not much; a few dulled blades and a contingency of potions, poultices and salves. Luckily for Rose, there were also a fair few bandages in amongst the injury kits.
Having been dressed in finery for her last night in her family home, Rosalie had been sporting an Orlesian torture devise known as a corset. She hadn't thought to tackle the laces and hooks before sneaking her nephew out to the woods equipped with training bows and blunted arrows. Instead she had slipped on her loosest leathers over the damn thing and had been having to bandage her chest down ever since.
Having secured her bosom in place; she looked back to her ruined underclothes. They were a simple soft cotton, quite unremarkable; but they had been tailored for her and the armour she favoured. Letting out a sigh she pulled Alistair's tunic back on; at least it was clean.
Clio slipped into the tent then, backwards; as though checking she had not been noticed. Turning to face the cot, she met Rosalie's eye and broke into a smile and bounded over to her. 'So you finally woke up? And here's me thinking that only the nobles got to be lazy even among the Shemlen.'
Rose grinned at the elf, who had dark circles under her eyes and had the haunted quality she was sure her own reflected. 'What can I say? You caught me, apparently after the joining I really needed to catch up on my beauty sleep; lest I end up looking like the Archdemon himself.'
'Here' the elf then deposited Rosalie's pack on the cot beside them. 'Not sure if it's a case of men being men of Shems being Shems but no one thought to bring you cleans smalls. Didn't want to go through your things, so I just brought the bag.'
The redhead then hopped up onto the cot beside the war hound as the blonde quickly rooted through her now disorganised pack. 'I think it's probably a case of idiots being idiots, but there we are. What in the void did they do? Everything is everywhere!'
Having located clean smallclothes, Rosalie finished dressing quickly realising that she would have to meet with another idiot (this one with a crown) very soon.
Cliodna was fiddling with the skirt of her lightweight armour not having moved. 'You ok?' asked Rose. The Elf's head shot up and looked at the Human girl in surprise; shocked to see genuine concern there.
'Yeah I guess… Two of the Shem didn't make it… I'm glad you did.' It was Rosalie's turn to be surprised, but before she could say anything the Elf continued.
'Look, I need a bow, or a knife, or… something and I don't want to deal with that balding bastard alone right now. Clio practically glared up at Rose, not wanting to show how vulnerable she was feeling.
Rose took her cue, and instead of trying to return the Elfs previous sentiment offered up a weak smile. 'And here's me thinking that it was my winning personality that made you seek me out. Well if all I'm good for is to be intimidating muscle, so be bit. At least you're not only here to make sure I haul my lazy arse out of bed.' She sniffed in mock offence, eyes twinkling as she scratched her dog behind the ears.
Clio allowed herself to grin. 'Sorry muscles, but at least you know your place!' and she hopped down to stand beside Rose. Cerberus, detecting that they were on the move joined them on the ground, slightly reluctant to leave the cot. Rose rested an affectionate hand on his head, and the three of them exited the tent together; practically colliding with a frazzled looking Alistair.
Rosalie silently prayed he had not come to retrieve his tunic, which was now snugly tucked beneath her leathers. 'Oh, there you are; I thought I might have missed you! I, er, forgot to give you this.' The ex-Templar seemed a little more composed than their last meeting as he rifled through a pouch at his belt.
'We take some of the blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us of those who didn't make it this far.' His voice was soft and low as he handed her the small silver amulet bearing a small vial at its centre. The viscous reddish black liquid swimming within somehow made her feel stronger; as though she was not only living for herself now and must fight harder for those they had lost.
She took it in her hand, which they both noticed was trembling slightly. She looked up into his warm hazel eyes and nodded once, not trusting herself to speak. He offered a salute and continued on with whatever other duties he had to fulfil.
Clio gently touched Rose's arm. Without needing words, she took the amulet from the trembling fingers and fastened it about the slender neck of her friend. Untucking her own from her armour she looked up at the glassy green eyes. 'Now we all match'
Rosalie felt a surge of affection for the woman before her and allowed herself to smile warmly. 'Yes, now we are all bound in blood.'
This time Clio linked her arm through Rosalie's ad the two women headed for the quartermaster, war hound trotting at their heels.