Author's Note: I had a hard time naming this, I was really stuck on "The Inevitable Moment"...and..."Wooo Go Nate Go!" :D
~Wearing the Inside Out~
Each person in the group felt the strong pull of the taint, but before anything came into view, Drea motioned for them to halt. Carefully dismounting from their horses, she waved them in close and whispered, "This is how darkspawn are supposed to feel." A smile crossed her lips at the familiar sensation, "I know it feels like these ones are more powerful than those in Amaranthine, but trust me, they aren't. It feels like a small group…two, maybe three?"
"What are they doing here?" Sigrun asked softly.
Lightly, Drea shrugged, "We're near Lothering, so they were probably part of the horde during the Blight. Their entrance to the Deep Roads might have caved in…they're too stupid to search for an alternate, so they're wandering aimlessly." It was clear that even after her time with the Architect, she had no respect for the normal darkspawn intellect. As the feeling grew stronger and the darskpawn drew near, she signalled them to stay in their spots.
The other Wardens tried to argue but she quickly silenced them and handed her reins to Velanna. Crouching to blend with the brush, she started cautiously making her way towards the genlock that was standing out from the tree line. She could have easily picked the creature off without having to use stealthy tactics, but she was anxious to find out if it spoke. As she arrived, she stopped trying to be so quiet and the genlock turned to face the bushes. Confidently, she strode out from her hiding place with her hands on her hips as she bluntly asked, "Can you speak?"
Startled by her sudden appearance, the genlock raised the axe it was holding and sprung towards her. Easily side stepping the axe as it came crashing down, she scolded, "Tsk tsk tsk! I'm just trying to have a conversation with you. You know? Just talk?"
Finally prying the tip of its axe from the soft ground, the genlock spun around to face her. Enraged, the creature raised its weapon again and let out a ferocious roar, sending spittle flying as its whole body quivered. Unimpressed, Drea tried again, "Is that a no?"
Drea's cockiness quickly faded as a large hurlock came charging out of the bush beside her. Jumping back, she drew her swords and took a low, defensive stance when she suddenly realized the hurlock hadn't advanced. Looking directly at the creature, she saw the arrow jutting out from its eye. Before she could react, she heard the sharp whistle behind her as a second arrow tore into its neck, sending it sailing backwards into the ground. Not acknowledging that its kin was dead, the genlock angrily charged forward, bringing the axe down in front of it. Again, Drea effortlessly dodged the sloppy swing and knocked the genlock back with the butt of her sword. While it was off balance, she kicked it in the chest and it stumbled over a mess of bramble. Stomping down hard on its throat, she quickly stabbed her blade through its skull, ending the fight in a few quick moments.
As she moved to return to her party, she realized the bush was still rustling. Finally, Arkon and Nara came trotting out, both covered in black blood. Evidently, they pair dispatched the third darkspawn before it could even join the others. Drea couldn't keep the smile from her face as she patted her proud mabari.
Wanting to quickly dispose of the bodies so they could continue, Anders seemed to take delight in burning them into a black pile of ash. It was the first flicker of emotion the group saw from him since he found out that Ashlyn wasn't sent by Alistair. His grim zest allowed them to hurry and get some distance before having to stop and make camp.
"You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders again, child," Wynne commented as Drea shoved the last of her rations into the saddlebag. Knowing this moment would eventually come didn't make it any easier. Before facing Wynne, Drea gently ran her hand down the neck of one of the beautiful horses that Alistair insisted she take. Finally turning to face the patient, white-haired mage, Drea offered a rather hollow smile. Taking a step towards her, Wynne rested her hands on Drea's shoulders and added, "Now that you're doing the rest of your journey by horse, you could spare a morning if you wanted to talk before you left."
"I really can't. I'm sorry Wynne," Drea softly refused, not offering a reason.
Wynne held her gaze for a long moment as though she were trying to read the Warden's mind and get some idea why she was suddenly so distant. Finally she sighed, "There was once a time when you used to tell me everything."
Drea reached up and rested her hand over one of Wynne's as she replied, "There was once a time when I could."
Even as Drea sat in solitude by the warm, crackling fire that moment broke her heart. The subtle wince in Wynne's eye as she tried not to be hurt by Drea's dismissal still made her stomach knot up. But the thought of confessing to the mage the lows that she and Alistair sunk to in their hour of desperation made her completely nauseous. Wynne would never be able forgive them for going through with Morrigan's ritual.
Trying to ignore her knotted gut, Drea half heartedly stabbed her long stick at the fire, knocking one of the logs over and sending a spray of sparks wafting up into the air. Nate watched her from by the tents for several moments, trying to decide whether or not to disturb her. Her mood had grown increasingly sullen since they left Denerim and she was almost as unapproachable as at the Vigil. In this moment however, he couldn't help but notice how small and fragile she looked as she stared distantly into the fire.
Although she heard him approach, she didn't react as he came over. "You can go now, your shift is done," he said quietly to her.
"No, it's too early," she replied slowly. Her fatigue was catching up to her, but she didn't bother attempting to sleep until she was too exhausted to stand. Any sooner and she would be kept awake by her guilty conscience as it plagued her mind with the faces of those who died by her hand.
"Great," he answered patiently as he settled onto a makeshift bench by the fire. "Then we can sit here together and talk about the stunt you pulled today."
Bitterly accepting that he wasn't going to leave, she finally pulled her stare from the fire to settle on Nate. Stiffly, she replied, "It felt like normal darkspawn, but after everything we have seen since the end of the Blight, the last thing I'm going to do is assume anything."
"You could have gotten yourself killed," he pushed, already frustrated that she was skipping over the point.
Waving her hand dismissively, she turned her focus back to the flames and replied in a tone rife with her irritation, "We all knew the genlock wasn't alone, so that was no surprise. And I had you at my back." Before he could scoff at her for using flattery to deflect his point, she added, "I have travelled with some…amazing…archers, so I don't say this lightly but you are the greatest marksman I have ever seen. I mean…you shot it in the eye, Nate. I was not in any danger."
Her compliment was coldly delivered but left him unable to argue without insulting a skill he took great pride in. With a sigh, he let the issue go, "Will you at least go get some sleep? Whatever rest you got while we were eating can't be much."
"What, do you watch me now or something? It's not your job to monitor my sleeping habits," her words were sharp as she jabbed at the fire again, causing another small burst of sparks.
"I can't care?" Nate's voice rose slightly.
"I don't need you to care." she snipped, "You lot are my Wardens, and it's my job to take care of you. I'm always fine."
"What's your problem anyhow?" he finally snapped as he got to his feet.
"Right now? Your incessant yapping," she harshly answered. Glaring up at him, she continued, "Go back to bed, it's not your shift yet."
With a gesture of exasperation, he threw his hands out and asked, "What's going on here…why are you being like this? What happened to the Drea that was easy to talk to?"
Her eyebrows furrowed deeper as she forced herself to focus on the flames that licked up around the logs in the pit. She couldn't remember the last time she was truly carefree, other than when she was still a child. "That was a long time ago," she finally answered in a growl.
"That was just the other night!" he replied incredulously.
"That was the wine," she countered. "I don't know what you expect, but when I'm not the Commander of the Grey, I'm the Arlessa of Amaranthine. That's it! And between that I just keep moving…one foot in front of the other. There's not a whole lot left over to be just Drea…whatever that even means." Soon, she was looking down at the stick in her hands and picking at the bark.
Nate bit his lip to stop from cutting down her thoughts. Carefully, he asked, "And what happens when one foot in front of the other doesn't work for you anymore?"
Casually, she shrugged her shoulders as she started peeling the bark in small strips. "I suppose I fall," she answered simply.
"So that's it then? The rise and fall of the hero?" Nate asked, his voice getting louder. Drea shrugged her shoulders again, not looking up. "That's what this is all about isn't it? You really do believe that crap you fed me about my father simply cracking under the pressure of his own greatness!"
Jerking her head up, she snapped, "That's not what I said."
"Not in so many words," he agreed. "But it's not power that corrupts people's minds! It's isolation in dark times… Do you want the truth about my father? He may have had some good qualities but his bad qualities were always there. He only married my mother for her money! And when he wasn't being reclusive, he was surrounding himself with other money hungry rodents and they fed off each other's greed. He didn't crack under the pressure…his bad qualities grew with his company and his power. And once he got in with Loghain…"
He let out his air in a huff, not needing to finish that sentence. Quietly, Drea pursed her lips together in doubt. Amazed at her, he shook his head, "I can't believe I'm the one that has to explain this to you. If power alone corrupted, your parents should have been awful people considering the Couslands are the most powerful family in all of Ferelden next to the King. But they weren't awful…they were good people. They ran their castle with love, honour, and respect. And they stayed grounded because they held to their principles and surrounded themselves with other good people." Noticing her still-doubtful expression, he sighed, "How do you not see this?"
"Because my parents…had their vices," she recalled Fergus' words.
"So what?" Nate challenged; his frustration at her growing.
"You can't say that, you don't know what they were! What if…"
"It doesn't matter!" Nate cut her off, "Everyone has vices and faults. These don't develop from the pressure of being a leader. You are sabotaging yourself! You're just so damned determined fall from grace that you're going to discount everything your parents taught you about being a Cousland."
"Don't be ridiculous," she spat as she speared her stick into the ground by her foot.
"You don't think so?" he questioned her, starting to pace while he ranted. "Let's see…despite yourself, you have managed to surround yourself with good people that could offer you all the support you would need. But it hasn't done much good since you spend all your time pushing them away! You enjoy wallowing in your self pity so much that if we try to offer you kindness, you're insulted. Where's the respect in that?"
Getting up from her spot, she pointed her finger at him, "You'd better watch your mouth, Howe."
"Oh I am," he growled, "It's just not what you want to hear. So not everyone goes through what you have but everyone has dark times. The ones that don't let it consume them are the ones that let others in. Oh, but not you! You can tough it out! You know what? I watched my father do the same thing – crawl up inside the demons of his own head so much that we couldn't reach him anymore."
Holding back her rage, she sputtered through gritted teeth, "It's not like that! I don't deserve…I… have done questionable things...You just don't know what you're talking about."
"I guess I don't know!" Nate exclaimed as he took a step closer to her, "How can I? You never give any of us a straight answer on anything! Talking with you is like trying to solve a bad riddle. Like when I talked with Father."
Clenching her hands into tight fists, she wordlessly turned to walk away. Going after her, Nate kept pushing, "I wonder how your parents would feel, trying to raise you to be a strong and proud Cousland, only to have to you grow up and be determined to crumble like Rendon…"
Swiftly, Drea spun around with her hand outstretched to slap Nate across his condescending mouth. A loud smack rang through the air, but to Drea's surprise, he caught her at the wrist before she connected. Glaring from his hand to his face, she saw the fire from the sun itself burning in his grey, icy eyes. As he stared down at her, his shoulders rapidly rose and fell while he tried to take steadying breaths. She wanted to jerk her hand away but was hypnotized by the angry passion in his eyes. Her heart started to pound harder.
Still holding her wrist, he stepped forward and grabbed the back of her neck with his other hand. Roughly, he brought his lips down on hers as he moved in closer. She attempted to struggle but there was no strength in her arms as her fingers dug into his shoulder. As he leaned into her, she caught the faint scent of sandalwood and her eyes fluttered closed. His forcefulness soon gave way to a tender passion as his soft lips insistently probed against hers. She felt the heat suddenly flush through her body and despite herself, she felt herself reacting, her lips hungry for his…
Letting go of her wrist as he broke the kiss, he heard a soft sigh escape her lips. Slowly, he drew himself back and rested his forehead against hers, avoiding her gaze. Gently breaking the deafening silence, he murmured, "You have a lot of people who care about you, Drea and…Maker help me…I'm one of them."
As she took a step back, his hair fell forward, framing his face and softening his appearance. Looking up into his eyes, she could see they reflected the same fear and confusion she felt. Hesitantly, she took another step back and turned away, quickly heading towards her tent. He silently stared after her, wanting to chase her, wanting her to come back. When Arkon finally padded past him towards her tent, he knew the moment was gone.
With a deep sigh, he slowly forced himself to move back over by the fire. Dropping onto the log again, Nara moved over to him and rested herself against his leg. Grateful for her company, he reached down to rest his fingers in her fur. "And that," he muttered to her, "Is probably why I haven't spent my time chasing skirts…"