The Awakening

A Dragon Age Fanfiction

By Bionca Femme

Disclaimer: I own squat.

Chapter 3: Scars

Dinner for Alistair turned out to consist of eating while watching the Commander scowl at Varel, who used the opportunity to unload the next few days itinerary on her.

"Tomorrow evening the Nobles will be here to swear fealty to you. In the morning you should really have a look at the prisoner that we put down in the holding cell. And Mistress Woolsey would like an opportunity to discuss the trade situation. Also-," Seneschal showed no signs of slowing with the list of things to be done.

"Varel!" Sidona interrupted him sharply. The Seneschal stopped talking and his face took on a pained expression. "For Andraste's sake, breathe!" she scolded. "Is there anything that I need to attend to tonight?" she asked.

"No Commander," Varel admitted.

"Well then, please allow me to eat my dinner. Tomorrow will take care of itself," she assured him.

Varel inclined his head. "As you wish, Commander," he replied, though his expression seemed of the unconvinced variety.

Alistair found that he was immensely grateful for the silence. Which was only broken up by the whispers going on between Anders and Zevran. He observed the two for a time, and from what he could gather they were having a spirited discussion about the Tower and how stuffy the Mages were. When Zevran started talking about Wynne and the virtues of the woman's bosom and the possibility that it could be a magical bosom, Alistair tuned them out. Instead he turned his attention back to Sidona, only to find that he had also caught her attention. She popped a last mouthful of stew into her mouth and stood.

"I am retiring for the night," she informed them all and then sent Alistair a brief but meaningful look. Alistair watched her leave the hall with confusion. Was she canceling their meeting? He sat there for a moment and contemplated the meaningful look she'd sent him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed suddenly having realized that she meant for him to come up to her room, but that she didn't want others to know that's what he was doing. Then he blushed at the implications. People would think them lovers if they knew that he was visiting her in her chambers, unchaperoned. He wondered then, why it was that they couldn't just write the letters in her study, some other time...during the day perhaps? He shook his head to clear it. No...she could never...not with him. He would never be near good enough for her. After all, she was beautiful, despite the scarring. Even lovelier than Lyna had been, and Alistair had often thought that Lyna had been the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Lyna also scared the hell out of him, which was why he never pursued her. After a time though, he'd gotten to know her and he realized that she was a wonderful person, underneath all that intimidation, but by then she'd been involved with Zevran.

Sidona however, she was warm, engaging...sexy...a terror on the battlefield. He thought that maybe, especially now that he was no longer so much of an innocent, he could really find something with her that he had longed for all his life. But she seemed out of his league. He looked over at where Anders and Zevran sat and found the honey brown eyes of Zevran staring back at him.

The elf lifted an eyebrow at him and tilted his head towards the door that the Commander had exited through not moments before. The expression on his face said, 'Aren't you going up after her?'

Alistair took a deep breath and nodded, though he tried not to get his hopes up, she could after all only want to tell him her story and have him be there when she wrote those letters, as she said. Still, even to his naive nature, the situation said that she wanted more from him. He stood and excused himself from the table and then exited through the same door that she had.

Finding her room turned out to be easier than he assumed it would be. She was given the Master suite and the door was at the end of the hall in the family wing. Alistair stopped before the door and ran his hand through his hair nervously, then he raised it to knock on the door. The door opened before he had a chance however, and he found himself pulled into her room and the door shut firmly behind him.

"How did you know I was out there?" he looked from her to the door and back again.

"You know, I don't have any idea. Its one of the things I wanted to discuss with you, actually," she gestured for him to sit down in one of the chairs that was facing the fire. He did so and she sat in the chair opposite him, she leaned forward, her chin resting on the heel of her hand. "I felt you."

"You did? Like how we can sense dark spawn?" he asked. "I can sense you're in the building but I can't tell where. Are you more sensitive to the taint, do you think?"

She shrugged. "I was wondering how you knew that I was in trouble from as far away as Denerim, actually. I thought that you might have been nearby and felt that I needed help. Sometimes the older Wardens can sense each other when they are in danger. I was hoping that perhaps you had unlocked the ability and could share. I see however, from the look on your face that you are just as in the dark about it as I."

Alistair nodded. "That makes sense, though I didn't know about the ability, you're right. Actually, this may sound crazy to you but, I dreamed that the Vigil was under attack."

"You dreamed we needed help?" she looked genuinely baffled. "Interesting. Would you mind if I sent a missive to the First Warden about this? I have never heard of such a thing."

Alistair shook his head, "I think at this point I would be grateful to learn how it happened, myself."

Sidona nodded. "I thank you for coming. Honestly, I didn't know if you would. Considering how it must look to you," her face pinked and Alistair found himself fighting back a grin.

"Oh? And how does it look to me?" he teased, surprising even himself with the boldness of his words.

"Well you were invited, alone, to the chambers of a female commanding officer, I think that looks rather...suspect, do you not agree?" this time it was her that was smiling.

Alistair did break out into a grin at that. "Oh?"

Sidona laughed. "You are a far more dangerous a man than you seem, Alistair."

"Me?" he looked a little taken aback.

"Yes, women must fall all over themselves when they are around you. You are quite charming when you want to be," she winked and then stood. She went over to the desk in the room and retrieved a sheaf of vellum along with a quill and inkwell.

"Really?" Alistair mused. "In the past I was told I was awkward and endearing, never charming."

"Then you have grown greatly since then," she smiled at him and then sat down.

Alistair watched her set the inkwell on a small table that sat next to the chair away from the fire. She dipped the quill into it and began writing. "I hate doing this," she sighed.

"You're doing more than most do, I don't believe that even Duncan took the time to notify families when Wardens died," he commented.

She lifted her head, "Your Duncan, he was a good man. But that he did not find time to send news to Warden families does not surprise me, it is more common than I am comfortable admitting. Many good men and women die in the joining and in the field, their families never know what becomes of them. We are a very insulated order, loners almost each and every one of us. We are in the business of dying, after all. It can be a very lonely existence. I am certain it never occurs to most that our brethren may in fact have husbands, wives, and children left behind."

"That's...terrible," Alistair replied sadly.

"It is, which is why I am doing this now," she put the first letter on the floor before her to let it dry before starting on the next.

Some time passed and as she started the last letter, Alistair watched her face. Something caught the firelight as it trailed down cheek her and sparkled as it fell onto her hand. He realized that it was a tear, and it was followed by another, and then another. She said nothing and made no noise until she signed the bottom of the letter and it was place neatly on the floor with the others. The quill was put into the ink pot and her hands came up to cover her face. Her shoulders shook with silent sobbing and Alistair could bare to watch no longer. He stood and crossed to her, he then pulled her up from her seat and wrapped his arms around her. Her head rested on his chest as she cried.

Eventually she stepped out of his arms, although slowly as if she were reluctant to, and then she looked up into his face, tear tracks evident on hers, "Thank you," she gave him a watery smile.

Alistair chuckled and on impulse reached out and wiped a tear from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You're welcome," his thumb was joined by the rest of his fingers as they brushed against the side of her face and gently moved her hair away. "You told me you would tell me how you came by these."

She pulled away from him and then turned to face the fire. "I did. It is not a pleasant story, I warn you."

"I am still willing to listen if you're willing to tell me," he sat back down and waited. Finally so did she.

"I was young when I was recruited into the Wardens," she began as her gaze drifted to the fire, her memories taking her back in time.

"Why does he do that, ma sœur?" The little boy she is tucking into bed is looking up at her with wet eyes. Eyes that are the same dark brown as hers, eyes so dark that she's been told they are black.

"I know not," Sidona replies. At fifteen years-old she no longer questions why their father drinks as he does, nor why he hurts their mother - and on occasions when their mother is not within arm's reach - her. It has been this way since she turned twelve. For her brother Timious, this right of passage from childhood has come early. Tonight Sidona threw herself in front of her ten year-old brother, the blow meant for him landing instead upon her back.

"Does it hurt?" His smaller hand reached out and gripped hers and she smiles down at him.

"Only a little; in a little while I'm sure it will go away," she assures him. Which is a lie, of course, but one that she has told all too many times. The fist had landed on her shoulder blade and will bruise. She watches as the look of concern on her brother's face darkened to one of pure hatred. An expression that no young boy should ever have.

"When I get bigger, I'm going to kill him!" he declares.

"Do not say such things," Sidona admonishes tiredly. Hoping that if she doesn't sound frightened he will not continue with the conversation.

"He hurts you and ma mere." The dark eyes narrow beneath the thick thatch of black hair. She is the only one with hair like their grandmere. Hair so red that in the sun it is like living flame. Some would say that when provoked she had a temper to match. But she was able to control herself - when it suited her. Lately she saved her rage for her teacher. The man lived to provoke her. Though, she supposed as a teacher of Martial training and combat, it is probably necessary to do so. She is grateful to have an outlet for her rage, even if she thinks he receives an odd satisfaction from it. No one but her brother knew that she skipped school to receive training. So far she managed to avoid anyone finding out.

"As soon as I come of age, we're out of here. Just you and me, remember?" She ruffles his hair.

"Yeah," the dark-haired boy grins. "Hurry up and grow already!"

Sidona chuckles. "Yes, Mon Capitaine! "

"Goodnight, ma souer." The boy snuggles down into the blankets that were by now little more than rags, in a bed that is little more than a cot.

She leans down and plants a kiss on his forehead, "Goodnight."

She leaves the room that they share quietly. Tonight is her sparring session with Master Enos, and she needs to sneak out of the house. Her Mother is in bed for the night, and by now her Father will be passed out in his favorite chair by the fire. None-the-less she tip toes her way down the hallway and almost makes it to the front door when she hears a voice just behind her.

"Just where do you think you're going?" The voice of her Father slurs out as her hand alights on the door latch.

"Out for a walk, Papa." She turns to face him but she doesn't look him in the eye. Even drunk her father could tell when she was lying just by looking her in the eye.

"No. You're going to meet with a boy, aren't you?" He accused and grabbed her upper arms painfully.

Sidona's head snaps up and her eyes narrow on the man that she has come to know as Father, but is no real father of hers. He married her Mother when she was widowed, promising that he would take care of them. But soon after he started drinking and then Timious was born and he lost his job at the Imperial Palace. Then he began beating her Mother and eventually her.

She defends herself, "I am not going to meet a boy!"

"Do not lie to me!" He growls and she is flung away from him. Her thin back hits the opposite wall and the air is knocked from her lungs. "You're going to tell me where you're going!" His fist rises into the air and simultaneously Sidona's breath returns. Her mind already foggy from the lack of oxygen she reacts without thought. As he raises his hand against her, her foot lashes out and his feet are knocked out from beneath him. He falls and Sidona scrambles to her feet and then stumbles towards her bedroom. She can only think of Timious now, she has not the will to suffer this man's cruelty for one more day and she will not leave without her brother. There is no telling what their Father would do once he regained his footing.

"Tim," she hisses out as she shakes her little brother. "Tim, we need to get out of here!"

"Wha-," the little boy's eyes open and then widen as their gaze drift past her to the figure now looming over them.

Sidona turns hurriedly to see that their Father has finally made it back to his feet and is coming after her quicker than she thought he would. A glint of candlelight off steel draws a sharp horrified gasp from her lips.

"I'll teach you some manners, you little whore! Lets see if your sweetheart wants anything to do with you once I'm done with you." The knife flicks, once, twice. Lines of fire kiss her cheeks and she cries out.

"Sid!" her brother wails from behind her. Sidona's body prevents him from getting up from the mattress.

" There, now you aren't nothin' but a cut up whore!" her Father sneers.

Sidona's world goes red, of all the things in this world that she has, her beauty and her brother were the only things that she felt no one could take from her. In two movements he has ripped that security away. She stands up and advances on the man who, in the face of this newfound courage of hers, takes an uncertain step back.

She stops before him and he sneers at her once again. "What? You want more?" he asks.

"This is where you die," she growls and then she knocks the knife from his hand. Her body follows the moves that Master Enos has drilled into her until they become as easy to execute as breathing. She brings the heel of her hand up, driving it into his nose, with a crunch his nose breaks and the bones bury themselves into his brain. He goes down hard and does not move. She stands over his body for a long time, her face throbbing.

"Sidona, wha-?" The voice of her Mother brings her back to reality. "What have you done!" her Mother's angry shriek piercing the night. "Get out!"

"Mama," Sidona recoils from the angry woman. "He cut me!"

"And I'm certain you deserved it!" her mother hisses. "You murdered my husband! You are no daughter of mine!"

Sidona narrows her eyes angrily at the woman, "It's just as well, you aren't any kind of Mother I want to have," she turns to her brother. "Come on Tim. We're getting out of here."

Timious blinks at her as if seeing her for the first time. "No."

"Tim?" there is disbelief written on her bleeding face.

"Mother has no one now. She needs me," Timious crawls out of bed and crosses the room to her. When he stands before her, he throws his arms around her. "I love you, ma souer!"

Sidona holds her brother for a moment and then her gaze shifts to her Mother, "Take care of him, the way you never took care of me. If I find out it has been otherwise and I will come and I will take him from you. You'll end up alone, just like you deserve."

Her Mother's face pales when she sees her daughter's dark brown eyes flash dangerously. "Get out," there is a tremble of fear in her voice.

Sidona plants a kiss in her brother's hair. "Come and find me when you're old enough, Tim."

"I will and thank you," Timious replies.

With a final hug from her brother and a deadly glare at her Mother, Sidona leaves her childhood home behind. With nowhere else to go she makes her way to Master Enos' home. She stays on there for two more years, Master Enos increases her training and when she is seventeen she is recruited by the Grey Wardens. The youngest Orlesian recruit in many years.

"Did he ever come to find you? Your brother, I mean?" Alistair asked.

"No, when he came of age he left Mother to seek his fortunes. He was dead within a year. I received word that he took on four armed humans in a tavern brawl," Sidona's voice trembled but there were no tears. The past had been fully mourned for her and she could shed no more tears over it. There remained only reminders, which stood out in white horizontal lines on her tan cheeks. "That's how I came by the scars. My monster of a father gave them to me," she stood up and craned her neck upwards to look at him as Alistair stood as well and gazed back at her.

"Thank you for trusting me with it," he said quietly.

Sidona nodded. "One day you shall have to tell me your story," she ventured.

"Mine?" he tilted his head as he looked down at her. "It's not very interesting."

"No?" she reached out and took one of his large hands in her smaller one. "I do not think it is so uninteresting as you think. There are questions about you that I wish to have answered, ones that may be answered by hearing of your past."

"Such as?" Alistair regarded her with a lifted brow.

"You were a Prince and yet, you do not act as though you were raised as one. I can see the loneliness in your eyes, and I want to know why," her other hand came up and cupped his cheek.

Alistair let his eyelids slide closed and he leaned into the touch. His hand came upwards and took her hand from his face and he placed a kiss on her palm. "Perhaps," he said thickly, "another time? It's getting late."

Sidona looked disappointed but nodded. "Of course."

Alistair bid her a goodnight and then headed to the door, his mind already churning from her story and from the way he'd been laid bare at her light touch. Just as he was leaving through the door he heard her call to him quietly, "Not all scars are ones we can see, Alistair."

He paused in the doorway but did not look back before finally exiting her rooms, closing her door behind him. He made his way quickly to his room, the events of the night echoing in his mind. When his clothes had been shed and he lay in the large bed in his chamber down the hall from hers, he heard her words in the darkness, 'Not all scars are ones we can see, Alistair.'

Unbidden he recalled a conversation he'd had with Lyna about his past.

"So you said this Arl Eamon raised you?" Lyna asked distractedly as they browsed through the wares in the Denerim Marketplace.

Alistair froze with a small carved statuette he'd been admiring in his hand. "Oh, did I say that?" he chuckled nervously, his mind racing to come up with something witty to throw her off the inevitable conversation. "I meant that dogs raised me! Yes! That's it! Giant slobbering dogs, from the Anderfels."

Lyna turned to face him with an amused expression, "Well, that would explain the smell."

"Well it wasn't until I was older that I realized that you're not supposed to actually lick yourself to get clean," Alistair said with a laugh.

Lyna's dark eyebrow lifted, "One would have thought the Chantry would've beaten that out of you."

Alistair chuckled, "Well if you're going to insist upon listening to me then I suppose I can't convince you to let this drop."

Lyna shook her head. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Alistair."

Alistair sighed. "I guess there's no harm in telling you, I suppose. Oh, how do I put this?" he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm a bastard. And before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a servant at Redcliffe castle when she got pregnant with me, and when she died during childbirth, Arl Eamon took me in. He was good to me... and he didn't have to be. I don't blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry when I was old enough."

Rather than ask if the Arl was his father like she could have, she surprised him by asking a totally different question. "Why did he send you to the Chantry?"

"Arl Eamon married a young woman from Orlais. She despised me, possibly she resented the rumors that pegged me as the Arl's bastard. So I was packed up and sent to the Chantry as soon as I was old enough. It was just as well really, the Arlessa made sure that Redcliffe wasn't much of a home to me by then anyhow," he shrugged.

"What a terrible thing to do to a child," Lyna's face was sad.

"Maybe," Alistair admitted. "She felt threatened by my presence, I see that now," Alistair looked down at his feet and blinked rapidly. Even though the pain was old, he rarely ever talked about it. Somehow doing so made him feel incredibly lonely, especially since the last person he'd spoken to about this was Duncan. "I remember I had an amulet, with Andraste's holy symbol on it, the only thing I had left of my Mother. I was so angry at being sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall. Stupid, stupid thing to do."

Lyna's tiny hand set itself on his shoulder, "You were young."

"And raised by dogs," Alistair shrugged. "Look, all I know is that the Arl is a good man, and well respected in the Landsmeet. And what's more he's Cailan's Uncle. So he's got a personal interest in taking down Teryn Loghain."

He looked up from his fidgeting fingers and met the elven woman's eyes. She seemed to be trying to look into his very soul. Finally as if she'd found what she looked for she nodded and then smiled. "Alright, Alistair. I trust your judgment. We'll set out for Redcliffe immediately."

And that had been it. Not even when he had confessed that he was the son of King Maric had she treated him differently. She was good to him, treated him like family. She didn't coddle him, at least not really. Sometimes she needed to make the tough decisions and though he'd disagreed at times she'd done what she'd thought best, whether or not it felt wrong to him. But she always valued his opinion, helped him when he needed it and pushed him when he needed it. There had not been a lot of secrets between them, at least none that he knew of. One thing though was more apparent to him than anything else. There was a gaping hole where she'd been. A place in his heart he'd made especially for her. And now an emptiness. Sidona's touch and her questions probed at that emptiness and Alistair had a sneaking suspicion that if he examined the emptiness he would find that it had grown smaller. He didn't know whether that made him angry with her or immensely grateful.

A/N: I originally was going to go for a mugged/attempted rape scenario for Sidona's backstory. But it echoed the city elf origin too closely. And truth be told, while I liked it in Origins, I think its totally inappropriate for the character.

I would like to take a minute to point out that Sidona's method for killing her Step-father is not technically physically possible. But is a common myth that has been popularized in the entertainment industry. I didn't realize that until my boyfriend pointed it out to me. He's a ninja nerd, so I take his word for it. He also looked over the whole flash back scene for me and made some adjustments to the wording. As a result he pointed out to me that I need to stop writing as I speak. I use the word "had" way too often. So for all of you that found that annoying previously, and were just too nice to say so, I apologize.

A big thank you to Melismo for being beta-fabulous. She got to this while in the midst of a very busy life.