"Are you willing to take my offer yet?" It purred near her face, the black flames licking at her curled horns. Those twisted eyes gleaming wickedly while the smile lit her face.
She chose not to waste her breath on responding, that question was starting to irritate her. She mumbled under her breath as she rubbed the back of her neck as it cracked. Rolling her shoulders she pointed to the seemingly endless doors around them. The portals flickering between the twisted trees, each interlocking it's branches with another, creating arches of black tree. In the distance the black city hovered, it seemed as close to reality as she was. A tease.
She felt weak, not 'wow, I'm tired' weak, but 'wow, my body is deteriorating' weak. Flexing her fingers, she felt them tingle with the familiar feeling of a sleeping limb.
The demon laughed a hideously beautiful laugh, "You won't last much longer you know, I can help you, if you help me," she hovered over to the Warden, whose back was up against one of the twisted trees. "I wish entrance to the mortal world, you wish a way out. But, perhaps I could add another... offer?"
Emily couldn't help but lift her weary head, peering up at the demon. White-blue meeting violet. She did not speak, only raising her eyebrow to allow the demon to speak further.
Pointed teeth formed a sinister smile, "You do not have the will to perform magic... I do. If you allow me to... live in your body with you, I will allow you to use my mana—"
"No." Her voice was hoarse but strong. "No. That's wrong."
Scowling, the demon hissed in anger, pushing her form away from the Warden. "You will never find where I reside, cur! You will never get out of this place!"
Laughter exploded from Emily's lips, her voice booming in the empty space. She laughed until she wheezed; the demon still hovered growling at her, her eyes the most intense shade of purple. "You? A lowly desire demon think you can keep me in here?" Dry, cracked lips formed a wicked smile, "I've killed an army of demons higher in the food chain than you, and you think you have a chance?" Her laugh lowered into a dangerous chuckle, "You don't."
"Cur!"
A cloud of smoke exploded where the demon had been only moments before. Even though there was no air current or wind, Emily rose her hands to cover her eyes until it cleared. The smile on her face victorious, her lips felt a little moist, her arms a little less heavy, and her back straightened as she strode into the next door.
"...and when the Proving Master called her name and introduced her as a Warden all you could hear in the crowds was, 'There is a dwarf in the Wardens?'. She was not happy, she nearly killed her first opponent in anger, because he commented on her height. Afterwards we were having a drink in the Tavern and she slapped the ale down and stood up, nearly knocking over her chair and started yelling, 'Dwarves have NO right to call ME short!'."
The room filled with laughter, knee slaps, and elbow jabs. At the head of the room – and the joke – was Alistair. Sitting on his high-backed chair, the Howe insignia mostly scratched off by what looked like a very dull boot knife. Alistair's cheeks were rosy from laughter and a pint of two of ale in his system. Beside him sat Tucker, who was equally buzzed, his face nearly blue from lack of breath between gasping laughter.
"Well, we all know her, that comment was offensive to someone, and a fight broke out. She was unarmed but that didn't stop her. Know how she knocked him out? She tripped! On her own laces! Spilled her ale in his eyes blinding him and knocked them both on their arses! 'Cept he was on the bottom and hit his head on the floor and blacked out!"
The room was getting rowdier as the story of Orzammar went on. Sitting at the head of the table, Alistair could see the whole room. A twinge of envy was quickly pushed back by more alcohol as he thought of these men and women as her soldiers. These were good men, they accepted him as their commander without question without knowing the first thing about him, all because it was what she would have wanted.
'Too bad I was never that loyal.'
'Yeah, too bad. Could have been a bit more than 'the drunk'.'
He chased the familiar feelings down with another pint.
Soon enough the laughter faded and Alistair felt out of place. Even though a few were still awake and drinking themselves comatose, he left.
Drunk and disoriented the ragged man closed his eyes as he walked through the keep. He placed his hand against the cool, rough stone of the walls, touching a tapestry every now and again. Though blinded, Alistair felt as if he knew where he was going. The cool stone felt good against his calloused hands, thought unlike during the Blight it wasn't because of holding his blade, it was from fist fights and holding a tankard.
Finally, Alistair fell into the room he had been heading too. He didn't hear the mage scramble to his feet and start talking angrily at him.
The acting Commander opened his honey brown eyes as he stumbled towards the veiled bed. His feet dragging along the ground, he realized he had no boots on, and noted it lazily before he stumbled on the carpet into the bed. He clawed his way through the curtains to see her there. In his drunken haze she looked as peaceful and pristine as she always had.
Tears came to his eyes as he blubbered out a little sob, not even speaking words. He touched her face, so numb he couldn't feel how thin it was.
He felt a cool wave roll over his head as his eyes rolled up and his head fell to the pillow, his nose buried into her hair.
That night, he dreamt of her.