AN: When I started Aira's story, it was just a 'joke', a reply to a review to the Failed to Fail, where the reviewer said that while it's a good story, it would be so much better, if it wasn't a gay romance, if Air was a woman, and romanced Alistair, not Zevran. . So I didn't mind if I skipped something, or if the chapters were just a single paragraph long. But one cannot simply take Aira as a joke. And I regretted not including some parts, e.g. Dalish and werewolves. I felt like I wrote myself into a corner, and it resulted in a two-year hiatus. Yes, that's how long it took me to realize that I can write and publish the missing content as oneshots. . This is the first one.
This particular one, however, was written in response to Dragon Age subreddit, where someone asked what would Duncan do if a Warden accidentally dropped the cup.
So thanks to my wonderful beta Shebasdawn for her help. :)
oOo
Duncan sighed inwardly. Again. He'd been doing that - together with frowning, rubbing his nose, and sometimes even pulling his hair out - quite a lot since he'd conscripted this specific recruit. Aira Surana had seemed to be perfect Warden material, all in all. But she was not what he'd expected.
Take their first talk about the Wardens, for example. The first night out of the Tower, she joined him at the campfire and asked if she might ask some questions about the Wardens. Naturally, he said yes.
"Well, for starters," she said, her face lit up with curiosity. "How many male Wardens are there? Young ones, I mean, around my age? Not that I have anything against old geezers, but they tend to be… boring."
He tried to give her a stern, disapproving look, the first of many. It didn't work. It never worked. "Not all of them, of course - there are exceptions!" she happily assured him.
"Also, what does it mean to be a Warden? I won't have to wear that… well, whatever you call it," she continued, pointing to his armour - his custom made dragon leather armour - wrinkling her nose. "I'd much prefer a robe, thank you. Preferably violet... Wardens do have their own tailor, right? Since we're such a great and famous Order? Oh, and the helmet. I won't have to wear it the whole time, will I? That would totally ruin my hair!"
At that moment he had to admit he'd made a mistake. Perfect Warden material? More like a perfect airhead. Still, she could be quite efficient and resourceful when she wanted to. When he'd sent Alistair with the recruits to collect darkspawn blood and find the treaties, he'd expected them to be gone three days at least, but they were back the next morning - as a well-organized unit under her command.
"She's - she's really something. Like a Queen of ice. And butterflies. And fashion," was Alistair's astute report on her actions.
She was also loyal to her friends and teammates. It was part of the reason why Duncan had recruited her, but right now, it was a problem. Aira very clearly disagreed with his killing Jory. Duncan closed his eyes. He didn't want to run his sword through her, too. Especially not in front of Alistair. But Wardens did what they had to.
He cleared his throat. "Aira?"
When she finally lifted her eyes from the bodies of the other two, he expected to see fear and disgust, but instead found anger and accusation. And cold calculation. She clearly had a plan. The clever ones usually did.
"You are called upon to submit yourself for a greater good," he said - and regretted it immediately as she glared at him. It was the start of the standard Joining Speech, but perhaps he should've omitted it this time. Aira Surana wasn't a type to answer any calls, or to submit herself to anything or anyone.
"Of course," she said, in a firm voice. "Let's be over with it, then." And she grabbed the goblet in her totally not shaking hands.
Ah… She was going to do that. He felt mildly disappointed; he expected her to come with something more creative. This was merely a standard ploy. On his list of tricks to avoid the Joining, this was among the top five most common.
"Cheers," Aira said, with a charming smile. And then dropped the goblet. "Oh! How very clumsy of me! It must be nerves. I shall immediately return to the Wilds and collect some more blood. Hopefully I will be able to safely return in a few days."
Duncan sighed. Again. "There is no need for that. The amount you brought was enough to make several bottles of the Joining potion. We can do this all night, if necessary. But I do hope you will calm down sooner - you are expected at the Council. King Cailan asked for you."
That piqued her interest. "Cailan? You mean the blond hunk in shiny armour that welcomed us when we first arrived?"
"Cailan Theirin, the ruling monarch of Ferelden, yes."
"Did you know he wants to divorce his wife?"
He did; how she found out in the couple of days she'd been here, he had no idea.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Alistair cut in, confused.
Aira ignored him. "And he invited me?"
"He asked for Warden Surana." Duncan would have paid to find out what was going on in that cute head of hers right now.
"Fine," she said after a moment. "I'll drink your potion. On two conditions. First. No more lies or tricks. Or blabbering about the 'greater good'. Save that for the desperates who need something to clutch at and are happy with the straws." She kept glaring at him, defiant, challenging, her chin jutting out.
Duncan gave an appreciative nod. "And the second one?" Maybe he'd been unfair. Maybe she would turn out to be a great Warden after all.
"I'm absolutely NOT meeting the King this filthy and wearing this ugly robe. I'd rather DIE."
Or not.