**The following story was inspired by dissatisfaction with how the Tamlen/Dalish fem elf situation was handled. I was very unhappy that our PC's had no outlet for their grief if they had pursued a more romantic angle with Tamlen during the origins. I also took certain liberties with the DA universe and hope that it doesn't detract from the overall feeling.** Dragon Age is the universe of Bioware's creation, I'm just stomping in it.
Shrieks lay dead everywhere. Black tainted blood splattered the tents, her companions, and her war hound. The attack had come suddenly and without warning. She could sense something out in the darkness, something that bore the same taint as the shrieks but different.
Alistair walked up to her, wearing his shield with his sword in hand. "Do you feel it?"
"Yes", she replied. "Let's go have a look." Bow and arrow ready she and Alistair began to circle the camp feeling their way towards the source of the taint.
As they drew near she felt the presence retreat into the shadows of rock and night. She and Alistair stopped and exchanged a confused look. "It isn't attacking and doesn't feel hostile," Alistair said. "I don't know what to make of it. Maybe it isn't a darkspawn?"
"What else could it be Alistair?" she asked.
He shrugged. From the darkness a nightingale's call came, lilting notes in a very specific pattern. Charna gasped, her eyes widening in recognition.
"This cannot be," she thought, "it cannot!"
To Alistair she said, "Please, go back to camp and tell the others to keep their distance."
Over his shoulder she could see them watching the two Wardens. Stilgar barked anxiously by the fire, glaring in their direction. Alistair, startled, sought her gaze. "What's out there, Charna? You know, don't you."
"It's ok, just go," she said firmly. Alistair watched her closely, his face filled with concern. "We are within calling distance if you need us." He turned, glancing again into the darkness, slung the Redcliffe shield on his shoulder and walked slowly back to the others. Charna watched him go before turning back to face the figure hiding in the shadows, looking into the darkness where she knew he waited. She slung her bow and put the arrow back into the quiver.
She went forward into the shadow of the cliff, away from questing eyes. "Tamlen?" she called softly, hopefully.
Her heart shattered when he attacked her. For all their words this night, she had known it would fall on her to release him from his torment. She let him hit her, over and over. It was her penance for what she knew she was going to do. She was gasping for breath from a punch in her chest when she heard them, armor clanking in the night. She was running out of time; she would not dishonor Tamlen by allowing her friends to end his life. She saw Zevran melt from the shadows, daggers drawn, face murderously calm. She held up a hand in a gesture to not interfere. He stopped short, perplexed perhaps or maybe respectful? She didn't have time to think about it. Tamlen swung again and this time she dodged, dagger coming to hand. She drove the end of it up under his ribs, driving it hard into his heart. His body tensed as she caught him. He started to sag in her arms, his hands gripping her to him. She brought her forehead to his, locking eyes with him as his life drained away. She willed him to hear her. "I love you," she said as the light faded from his eyes and pain eased from his features. He was already beyond this world when she laid him on the ground, withdrawing the dagger.
Charna sat next to Tamlen's body, dagger clenched in her fist while her hand rested on his body. Her heart and mind were a turmoil of emotions, but it was grief that descended on her like a cruel avalanche. When she had grieved for Tamlen the first time there had always been a doubt about what had happened to him, if he were truly dead. There was no doubt this time. All this time he had run feral on the land, becoming twisted and dark as the corruption worked its way further through him. He had chased her, found her and there was nothing she could do to help him. Something broke inside her and in the end she could do nothing but throw her head back and scream into the night.
Zevran, who was closest, watched Charna's face. It was blank. Whatever she was thinking was not there for him to see. He had hidden in the shadows, listening to her and her lover talking by the tiny fire she had made for them. He had slipped away unnoticed when Alistair had told them Charna did not wish interference. He had followed her in the off chance she had needed assistance. He had listened and watched and remembered. Respect blossomed anew in his heart even while his heart bled for her. She was an archer; killing from afar on a battlefield was very different from killing up close and very personal. Especially when the victim was someone you loved. He understood that pain better than anyone. He found Alistair watching him and shook his head slightly. He watched as Alistair said something low to the others and they started back to the camp a few hundred yards away. Only Sten refused to move.
Zevran sheathed his daggers and squatted next to her. He rested a hand lightly on her shoulder, "Death is not always a punishment, or a horrible fate. Sometimes it's a mercy, amore."
Charna turned her head and met his gaze, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. Satisfied, he stood and took a place beside the Qunari.
Charna sat for a long time beside Tamlen, remembering him. A childhood spent together playing with wild creatures, tumbling on the grass together, listening to the Haran tell tales of their collective past. She recalled the time they had spent in the woods together, practicing to become hunters. The nights under the stars where they had laughed and told each other stories. Taking their vallaslin together, he had sat with her in silence while she endured the pain of her blood writing. After, when they had healed and were formally accepted as adults, they had traveled to a hidden waterfall together. They had made camp and he had kissed her. That night they had made love and made plans to announce their engagement to the clan. The elders were expecting it, everyone was. But then there had come the cave and the mirror and Duncan.
When she could bring herself to move again she stood and found a flat sharp rock. Going a short distance a way from where Tamlen lay, she knelt and began to dig. She did not look up from her task. Instead, she poured all her pain and grief into tearing the ground open. She wept while she rent the earth and did not see when a shovel started working close to her or the change in light as others brought torches. They could not help her with her grief but they could help her with her work. Zevran and Alistair knew what she intended and started to widen and deepen the trench. Sten took her by the arms and helped her stand.
His face was as stern as always. "Go prepare the body, kadan." His off colored eyes bore into her, studying her. He saw strength there, even in weakness. This female elf had earned his respect and become kadan to him. The sound of her pain and loss had reminded him so much of his own when he had woke in a strange place, his brothers and his soul lost. She had helped him to recover Asala and his honor. She had given him a way to fulfill his purpose in this strange land. Digging a hole in the ground for one dead elf was a small gesture indeed to show his thanks.
Charna found Wynne and Lelianna by Tamlen with a large bowl of water. Wynne made to say something but when she saw the look on Charna's face she held her tongue. Later there would be time to talk, later when that look of pain had diminished. Charna knelt once more and began washing Tamlen's face and hands, wiping away the blood on his ragged armor. She kept her mind blank and made herself not see the changes the taint had made in him. She did not hear herself begin to sing, a song of mourning and loss in a language long thought lost.
Sten carried the body to the awaiting grave, placed it within. He, Zevran and Alistair made short work of filling the dirt over the elf. Charna returned to camp, feeling starting to return to her. Her weeping had long since spent itself; it was now time for her to plant the tree. There were few options for saplings in the area they were in but that had not been her intention anyway. She squatted over her pack, moving items aside until she found what she was looking for. Near the middle, safely wrapped in a soft hide, was a flask of sacred water, a pouch of tree seeds and a small vial of lyrium.
When they were in the Brecillian forest they had explored some elvhen ruins and she had performed an ancient elvhen ritual with the water and alter there. There was something about the water that had made her go back later and collect some in one of the flasks Master Bodahn carried. Ever since she had drunk from that ancient well and opened the door into the ancient elder's tomb, she had felt something awakening within her. Now when they traveled in the woodlands she almost thought she could hear the trees talking and memories, just out of reach, teased the edges of her mind. She had collected some of the seeds at the feet of those trees she had thought whispered to her.
Charna clutched the flask, vial and the willow seed to her breast as she went to the graveside. She exchanged glances with the men as they passed her, grateful and thankful for their efforts. She was glad of the space her companions afforded her. She did not want to talk about this or explain why she was doing what she was doing. She knelt on the earth, looking skyward to see the sun breaking the horizon. She drew her dagger and placed it to her side. Carefully she made a depression where she was sure Tamlen's heart lay, deep enough to hold the seed and not smother it. Her sorrow surged and an old and powerful song blossomed in her memory. She did not understand the words but understood the intent. She took the dagger and sliced her forearm, allowing the blood to flow freely into the depression and over the seed. Covering the seed with soil, she took the vial and poured out the lyrium. She then took the flask and emptied the water. Her voice rose and became more intense as the first rays of the sun began beaming down and bathing them in light.
The others watched from their camp, listening to a song that had not been sung in ages. Wynne frowned as she saw the air shimmer around the kneeling Dalish. She did not think the elf capable of magic and stood to observe what Charna was doing.
From the ground in front of her, growing between her hands, the seed broke the surface and started to form. Her blood kept dripping on the roots and her eyes were lost and unfocused. Charna only concentrated on the words she sang and knew them to be a prayer to the nature spirits from a time when her people had been able to speak to them at will. The sapling reached skyward, growing taller until she sat in its shadow, its leaves unfolded as if the seasons turned.
The song prayer ended and Charna bowed her head giving silent thanks to the spirits. The tree before her shimmered slightly and she could feel the power around it. "Rest well Tamlen" she whispered as she touched its trunk, "someday we'll see each other again." She stood and returned to camp, the Blight waited.
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