I'm going to say, right off the bat, I don't like this.

Hello, Inir Cousland. What I've churned out is the result of trying to write a deep and thoughtful character, and realizing that you've written a whiny twit with a bad case of the poor me's.

Previous disclaimers apply.

Word to You Maker

Inir was praying again.

It was something that he did whenever they made camp; even more so when they were within range of a Chantry. He would kneel in isolation, hands clasped to his forehead and eyes clenched shut against the inevitable tears. How could he have been so foolish, after all? If he'd only been a little more wary, if he'd kept a closer eye on Arl Howe and his sallow-skinned men with their staring eyes and leering grins, none of this would have happened. His father and mother would be alive. His brother's wife and child would live, and Fergus wouldn't be missing. Inir, himself wouldn't have had to become a Grey Warden in a desperate bid for vengeance. They might have won the battle at Ostagar, had that twice-damned Howe not betrayed his oldest friend!

"If you hadn't been betrayed," he stiffened against the scornful voice of their resident Apostate. Morrigan sat next to him, lounging in her way. "Even if you hadn't become a Warden, if you hadn't lost your family, Loghain would have still turned on the king. Your father would more than likely have died at the hands of Darkspawn, and very little would have changed."

He huffed and glared at her cold features. "What does this have to do with you?" He demanded. "It is none of your business." He nearly bared his teeth at her in frustration when she rolled her shoulders nonchalantly.

"You're right," she said. "It's nothing to do with me, at all. Except that I'm sick of seeing you indulge in your little 'pity-party'. It's truly pathetic." She had the gall to smirk when he snarled and leapt off of the bench, but didn't leave. He only paced around the small enclosure like a caged cat, waving his arms occasionally.

"How dare you." He held himself back from the brink of shouting, for fear of evoking the wrath of the chantry priestess'. "How dare you! You have no idea what I've been through, no idea what I saw. I watched as my father bled on the floor of our kitchen larder, then had to leave both him and my mother behind. All because of one man, and my own blind trust!" He ran his fingers through his hair, dismantling his short tail. He looked nearly manic when he faced her again. "I saw the corpses of my brothers wife and son. He was barely on his eighth summer! They died because I was too stupid to see the trickery in his eyes." He leaned back against the cold stone wall, and practically deflated. "I failed them all."

"So, what?" His head flew up, rage in his eyes; but she'd already continued, and he could say nothing. "They died. It's done. It's also rather ridiculous that you haven't noticed how many more lives have been saved by your actions."

Inir stared for a moment, before Morrigan huffed in irritation and gestured out the enclave opening. "There; your proof is right there, imbecile." He glowered a bit at the insult, but looked anyway.

He didn't really see what she was talking about. He shook his head and turned away, only to see her standing at his side. "Look again, fool. Do you see those people?" He followed her hand, and saw them all. He saw the adults mingling and praying, the children giggling in groups ranging in size. "All of them are alive because of you. Well, us." She preened a little, then seemed to catch herself, and scowled. "Mostly you, and your selfless decisions. If you hadn't gone through all of that, they might have died as well." She watched them all for a moment, before she turned back to her companion. He was staring again, dumbfounded. He almost looked like Alistair; and wasn't that just irritating.

"Well then, if you'll excuse me; I've a tome to read, and precious little time for myself." She sauntered off, then, leaving Inir to his own devices.

He was still for a moment longer, before he turned back to the candle-lit altar. He knelt, and clasped his hands to his forehead. "Blessed be the prophetess, purified by flame. Thank you, for this chance to prove myself."

The maker works in mysterious ways, indeed.

Yeah, don't like it. Review anyway?