Author: Revan-sama.
Game: Dragon age origins.
Characters/pairings: Female Warden x Alistair, Female Warden x Zevran, Male Warden x Morrigan, Male Warden x Leliana.
Summary: A former templar grey warden who is destined to be a king, a former Antivan assassin, a witch of the Korcari wilds,
a former Orlisian bard who became a Chantry lay sister.
All different people, with different views and opinions.
Yet...their feelings toward their leader is the only thing that united them together against the blight.
Title: The origin of four feelings.
I remember our first meeting, a moment where both of our fares has run into one another.
For my selfishness and having hurt your feelings, I am so sorry...
-Origin of second feeling: Easy lover-
Night spreads across the sky, awakening the stars and moon from their slumber to begin the parade of luminescence in the shrouding darkness.
Glimmering shimmers of their merrymaking cascade down to embrace the Night-Walkers,
as the daring group traverses the dangerous ensnare of the ebony camouflage littered with the fearsome sadism of living beings.
Crows of Antiva, scarier than the beasts of the black abyss, control society through the talents of their special skills.
Poison and backstabbing, largely specify numerous aspects of their abilities.
That was how people would describe them these days.
But what was true or what was false was another story.
The warden relies less on her connection to the physical world to make her judgments
and complete tasks and more on her inner strengths and powerful insight.
Time, has been very kind. Even after fighting against the blight, She is still beautiful and youthful, retaining her ivory complexion and large eyes.
If she closes her eyes she can see that vision again.
The vision of her own death...and what consequences it can produce.
She tries her hardest not to, even though she knows full well what will happen.
Because of a choice she made...
The Archdemon will kill her physically.
And her death will destroy HIM mentally.
Flames danced. There was no other way to describe it in her mind.
It writhed, it dipped, it jumped and glided to a beat of its own, the chemical reaction releasing a show.
Oxygen, energy, and fuel, combined to create something like life, joyful release into the darkness.
He couldn't help his fascination with it.
Whatever she could be, Human, Elf or dwarf.
Noble, mage, commoner, her symbol always seemed so alive.
His realm was just like hers, spiraling webs of concern over unkind reality and facts.
The world would be better without some people.
Be it because of the betrayal of a father's old friend, racism between elfs and humans, or the lost of a friend...
In that perspective, they were very alike.
Zevran...her most former assassin lover.
He was so silence about his feelings. Always had been, always focused on the next hurdle, and what to use to get over it.
For Zevran, the warden materializes in the midst of the blossoms, carefree like a young girl.
She spins around once or twice, letting out a guileless laugh he had never heard from her.
His fearsome female warden leader is once again the young, carefree maiden of her youth; the girl she should liked to have remained forever.
She had the beauty of a goddess...and the innocence of an angel.
She looks back at him with a smile full of white, crooked teeth and raises her hand in a wave goodbye.
He lifts a hand in return… the same hand he uses to touch her cold cheek after her death.
After finishing stabbing the Archdemon in the back until the blood flows no more, he turns her over and lays her in the center of Fort Drakon.
Where the entire nation of Ferelden could see her.
The people she met, the people she have gathered, the alliance forged.
Where everyone could see her courage and determination.
A small smile hangs on her lips, and he mashes his own lips together in an effort to hold back a sob.
The beast has succeeded even in death; meeting her in the world may have been painless for him,
but the archdemon has made sure that her way out of it has been agonizing.
And yet, as he stares at Alistair' panicked and furious face not fifteen minutes later,
he feels as if someone is slitting his throat and stabbing him in the back.
A gloss of heartlessness descends upon him as he looks in to his friends horrified eyes,
and he let them swallow him like the hellish abyss he can now send his own enemies to.
Never again, will he fall in love.
NEXT CHAPTER: -Origin of third feeling: Witch gone wild-
OR maybe: -Origin of third feeling: Wine, woman and song-