Summary: What if there had been no Blight when Lilith Cousland joined the ranks of the Grey Wardens? How would she have coped with her new role and what relationships would she have forged when free of the pressure of saving the entire country?
A/N: UGH! I have had such a horrible, lousy day! Hopefully, finally writing this chapter will take my mind off it. Fingers crossed. Anyway, I can only apologise again for the ridiculously long delay with this chapter. I just keep suffering with terrible bouts of writer's block, but I am determined to push through them and power on with this story, because I really love writing it. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins or any of its characters (just my Lilith Cousland) and receive no profit from this story.
Lilith stopped short in her path as she came across a table strewn with maps of the area, almost illegible notes scribbled onto the slightly tattered sheets of vellum from every angle. The elven servants that seemed to have been tidying the area looked flustered as she halted there, likely expecting her to scold them for leaving the papers in such a state of disarray, but she paid them no need as she softly ran her fingers over the coarse parchment, tracing the contour lines and following the twisting paths whilst trying to envisage the lay of the land in her mind's eye. Her father had often told her that she possessed a keen eye for strategy, a suspicion that was first aroused when, at age twelve, she bested him in a game of chess, and though she had read all of the great tacticians that Highever's impressive library stocked, she had never had a chance to put her skills to the test. She imagined that her part in the upcoming battle would be minimal. Nevertheless, she felt a sort of calming influence wash over her as she decided on the best way to counter the Darkspawn's offensive, which, she deduced from the hastily scribbled notes, would come from the North.
'The King's men plan to make their stand here,' she thought, pulling a map which depicted the part of the Wilds closest to Ostagar across the table and resting it in front of herself, 'and they believe the Darkspawn will appear here.' She continued, idly fingering the arrow on the map which indicated the creature's likely approach. 'That gives them the high ground.' A pensive frown settled across her face, her eyebrows knotting together in concern. 'That hardly seems like sound strategy, surely-' She turned, her thoughts cut off, as she heard vague voices drifting from behind her, originating in a raised part of what appeared to be an old, long-since ruined temple. She sent a forlorn look back towards the maps before reluctantly heading to the source of the commotion, scolding herself for being so easily distracted from the task that Duncan had sent her on. As it was, her relationship with her Commander was strained after the debacle of the previous day and she strongly doubted that ignoring the older man's request would help her any in her quest to win back his approval. As such, she was pleased when she heard a familiar voice intoning from behind the robe-clad back of a circle mage.
"Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message." Alistair stated in a tone that spoke volumes of his incredulity.
"Your glibness does you no credit." The dark-skinned mage replied sharply, an exhausted edge to his voice.
"And here I thought we were getting along so well," Alistair continued, mock hurt in his voice, as he noticed Lilith's arrival, "I was even going to name one of my children after you... the grumpy one." He added, covertly winking to his friend over the mage's soldier. Lilith couldn't help smiling at how childish her friend could be at times and she noted, from his widening grin, that the blonde seemed very pleased at her reaction.
"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must," the mage replied, clearly tired of dealing with Alistair, "Out of my way fool!" He added, roughly pushing past Lilith as he made his way towards the steps, earning himself a fierce scowl.
"What a charming man." She muttered, mostly to herself, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she turned back to face her fellow Warden.
"You know," he began, his usual smile plastered on his face as he took a few steps towards her, "one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside."
Lilith shook her head laughingly. "You are a very strange man." She stated by way of reply.
"You're not the first woman to tell me that." He said, his voice taking on an almost pensive tone.
"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."
"Ouch! Now I'm wounded," he said, adopting a look of genuine hurt but maintaining a light tone of voice, "Look at me, bleeding all over the place. You're just not very nice, are you?" He finished, laughing outright and causing his companion to do the same.
"So," Alistair started again, gesturing for them to move towards the stairs, "did you need something, or did you just come here to hurt my manly feelings?" He finished, accenting his statement with a forced sniff as if holding back tears.
"Actually, Duncan asked me to find you." Lilith answered matter-of-factly, ignoring her friend's antics. At his curious look, she continued, "He said something about needing time to prepare the Joining for Daveth and Ser Jory. I think he wants us to get them out of his hair for a little while."
Alistair hummed pensively, rubbing his stubbled chin in a comical imitation of a man deep in thought. "He probably has some final task for them," he said at length, "a test of their skill or some such."
"Is such a thing the norm?" She asked, her tone inquisitive.
"I'm not really sure." He answered honestly. "I've only been a Warden for a little over six months and the only recruit we've had in that time is you. I suppose it's not unusual though," he continued thoughtfully, after a short pause, "Daveth was recruited after trying to pick Duncan's pocket and I believe Ser Jory was chosen on reputation and willingness alone. We've no idea whether they can actually handle a real combat situation."
Lilith simply gave a non-committal nod. She had, at first, been wondering why there had been no test of her skill; after all, all of her instruction had been completely hypothetical, more of a pastime than a practical talent she expected to use. However, she knew now what her trial had been; there was only one time that her training had been put to the test and the fact that she survived where so many of her friends and family had fallen was testament enough to her ability, she imagined.
From the visible change in her countenance, Alistair could see that his fellow Warden's thoughts had ran into treacherous territory, though he knew not where exactly her mind had strayed. However, he felt it prudent to call her attention away from whatever was plaguing her mind and attempted to draw her back into the conversation.
"How are the dreams?" He asked casually, realising too late that he was just trading one unhappy topic for another.
"Not so bad... I'm almost used to them by now." She replied without turning, a faraway look still dulling her usually bright eyes. Her first experience with the taint-induced dreams had come during their journey to Ostagar and had shaken her to core. However, with explanations and assurances from her fellows, she felt much better now than she had at the start; she still didn't get as much sleep as she'd like, but at least the visions didn't leave her feeling totally drained anymore.
"You'll learn to block them out completely with time," he assured, "and it'll be much easier once this Blight is over and there are fewer Darkspawn on the surface."
"Yeah... I imagine everything will be a lot easier when this is all over." As she spoke, she turned to face him, forcing a smile as an uneasy feeling settled into her gut, like something cold and wet squirming through her insides. She had never rode into battle before, but she knew to trust her instincts and she had a very strong feeling that this Blight wasn't going to be finished as easily as everyone hoped. 'Perhaps it's just nerves,' she thought, somewhat hopefully, though even she wasn't convinced by that.
"And your hands?" Alistair's voice recalled her from her dark thoughts once again.
Her cheeks warmed slightly, though her fair skin had an often annoying habit of intensifying every little flush that crept onto its surface, as she remembered how tenderly the blonde had tended to her wounds the previous day. "They're fine," she replied, her gaze downcast hoping to obscure his view with a curtain of hair, "They don't hurt anymore."
"Let me see." He said, stopping and holding out his hands, much in the same way as he had the previous evening. Again, she obediently placed her own hands, palms upwards, into his larger ones.
She could feel her blush growing deeper as he scrutinised the now almost invisible scratches that adorned her once flawless flesh, his thumb idly caressing one of the more noticeable cuts as if testing to see if it was as deep as it appeared.
"They should be all but gone by tomorrow," he said with a smile, releasing her hands after a short pause, "The cuts, that is, not your hands."
Lilith turned her gaze back to her palms as the two continued walking, a thought suddenly occurring to her.
"So you don't think they'll scar?" She asked, her lips forming an almost child-like pout.
"You almost sound disappointed." Alistair said, laughing at her expression. 'It shouldn't be legal for a grown woman to look so adorable,' he thought before registering that he had no idea how old the Noble-turned-Warden actually was.
"A warrior shouldn't have pristine, manicured hands," she stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "I was hoping for my first battle scar." A sheepish smile crept onto her face as she realised how silly she must sound.
"There will be plenty of time for that... Trust me." Alistair replied, his voice losing a little of its trademark mirth. However, it soon returned as he continued, a sly smile on his face, "Besides. If this is to be your first battle scar, I think you might want to save it for a more glorious opponent than a wooden man." He finished laughing, causing her to blush all the more.
"You know," she started, a bright smile illuminating her lovely features, "whenever I was training at home - in Highever, that is - Mother would always make me wear a pair of ladies gloves, silken ones that stretched all the way to my elbow, underneath a pair of leather riding gloves, all underneath my gauntlets. Though she preferred me to stay away from plate and mail altogether." She continued laughing slightly.
"Maker's breath, how did you even move your hands?" Her companion asked, appearing somewhat aghast.
"With great difficulty, I assure you." She replied, laughing at his reaction, "I once broached the topic with my mother, but she told me that 'no man would want to kiss the calloused hand of a fearsome battle maiden' and that was that."
xXx
Lilith readjusted the weapons on her back for the third time, fidgeting uncomfortably in her armour. For the whole of the three week journey to Ostagar, she had worn a set of light, flexible leathers, leaving her heavier chainmail pieces to be transported in the cart that the Wardens had brought with them and after such a long time, she felt unused to the restrictive feeling of wearing heavy plate. However, after being informed that she and Alistair would be escorting the two recruits into the Korcari Wilds to retrieve vials of Darkspawn blood, she decided that a little discomfort was a small price to pay for the added protection from being run through by a Hurlock.
She turned to observe Daveth and Ser Jory, who were standing a few paces behind her. She had met the both of them only that morning when the whole Order, together with the two recruits, had gathered for the breakfast and she had gotten fairly well acquainted with each of them. Daveth, a cut-purse of some repute in Denerim, was actually from a small village a few days travel from Ostagar, on the Eastern border of the Korcari Wilds. She had decided that he seemed a nice enough fellow, if not somewhat of a lecher, but she couldn't help questioning Duncan's judgement in invoking the Right of Conscription for a criminal meant for the noose. Ser Jory, on the other hand, she had decided was a very honourable man. A knight in the employ of Arl Eamon, he revealed that he had not long since moved to Highever to be with his wife, Helena, who was expecting their first child. She had congratulated him heartily, desperately trying to crush the ache that arose from the knowledge that his family was just beginning in the same place that hers had been ended. She was immeasurably glad that Jory had not resided in Highever long enough to recognise her as the Teyrn's daughter, as she had not the energy to explain her unique situation to a stranger and to calmly take their platitudes.
She smiled as she saw Alistair part from Duncan, with whom he had been conversing in private for the past five minutes.
"All set?" She asked, her voice a little more cheerful than she felt.
"Yes. Duncan wants us to seek out an old Grey Warden archive to the Northeast of here. Apparently it contains some ancient treaties that were signed not long after the second Blight."
"That long ago? How does he even know they're still there?" Four hundred years had passed since the last Blight; Lilith couldn't even fathom how old these contracts would be.
"They're supposedly protected by a magical seal," he replied, sounding unsure, "Either way, if they're there, we need to find them and bring them back."
She nodded her understanding as Daveth and Ser Jory approached.
"If you're done chit-chatting, I'd like to be back in time for tea." Daveth called in his heavy rural accent, a lop-sided grin on his face.
"Yes, we're ready." Alistair replied, a hint of a sigh in his voice.
"Well then, we'd best be off." Ser Jory intoned, his voice wavering slightly, "I, for one, don't fancy the idea of being out there when darkness falls."
xXx
Great wooden stakes, held together by long iron clasps, marked the boundary between the King's camp and the surrounding wilderness, forebodingly reminiscent of the architecture of the Chasind, a second danger to the Wilds that Lilith had not considered before. She knew little of the Chasind, just that they were known throughout the land as barbarians, and she feared a confrontation with the native people almost as much as she did the villainous creatures that they were setting out to find.
As they approached the gate, at least ten foot in height, the dull throb that Lilith had felt in her head for some time started to amplify, growing stronger by the second. It pulsed in steady beat with her heart, which started to race as the pain caused a flood of adrenaline into her system, becoming louder and faster with every faltering step that she took. Her vision blurred and she vaguely heard someone calling out her name, but everything was drowned out by the incessant beating in her head; a heavy, clamorous sound with perfect rhythm and timing, like the marching footsteps of an army, a thousand strong, led by a lone drummer.
Her vision had blackened, her surroundings completely forgotten. The pain was gone; Her mind was filled only with the alluring sound of drums.
She felt someone grabbing her face roughly, the outside contact jolting her from her dream-like state and causing her senses to rush back. Sight, sound, smell - they assaulted her fragile mind and suddenly the pain was overwhelming. The drumming became more insistent, clawing at the edges of her mind, trying to draw her back in. She clutched her head, trying desperately to drive the sensations away, before she felt warm comforting hands resting, gingerly, on her cheeks again.
She heard her name, recognised it, but it was not her full name. 'Lil'. The same as her brother had called her for as long as she could remember, a name that felt like home. Her vision cleared, slowly, but she was greeted not with the vibrant blue eyes of her brother as she had expected. Instead, warm amber irises were all that she could see, calloused hands on her cheeks all that she could feel.
"Take a deep breath, Lil."
His voice filtered through her senses, concerned, scared perhaps, but his eyes smiled reassuringly and she did as she was told. She dragged air into her body, closing her eyes and letting it fill her, keeping it within her as she felt her mind clearing. When she opened her eyes, releasing the breath, she could see him fully.
"I- I'm sorry." She rasped, shaken by the unknown power that had seemed to invade her body, her very soul. She vaguely registered that she was on the floor, kneeling uncomfortably, though she did not remember falling.
"What happened?" Alistair asked, releasing his grip of her face and resting his hands on her shoulders instead.
"I'm not sure." She answered, raising a hand to her forehead and rubbing her furrowed brow. Already it felt as if the experience was washing away from her, becoming a distant memory. It was disconcerting, to say the least. "It was like... like there was this throbbing inside my head. Except, it wasn't just in my head. It was like it was a part of me, coursing through my veins." She looked into his eyes almost pleadingly, praying for some sort of explanation.
"You remember how we told you that we can sense the hoard in our dreams?" She nodded, staying silent. "Well, when Darkspawn are close enough, we can sense them when we're awake, too. As far as I know, it affects people differently, but... I've never seen it cause such a violent reaction." Worry lines marred his handsome features as he eyed her worriedly, but still, she stayed silent, processing the information.
"Perhaps we should get you back to Duncan." He said, helping her to her feet and making to turn back in the direction from which they had come.
"No." She stated vehemently, her wits fully restored, startling her friend. "If this is what I am to expect every time I face one of the creatures, then it is best that it is done now. The battle against the Darkspawn will take place tomorrow eve and I cannot afford to go into it without knowing a thing about my opponent."
Alistair made a motion to disagree, but she cut him off.
"Alistair, I am coming with you." Her tone clearly did not brook argument and the blonde sighed, dragging a hand wearily down his face.
"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "but you have to promise me that as soon as you feel anything like you've just described, you will tell me and we can stop and wait for it to pass."
She nodded, but Alistair wasn't satisfied. He laid his hands heavily on her shoulders again, looking her square in the eye. "Promise me, Lil." He demanded.
"I promise." She said solemnly, laying a hand over one of his. He sighed heavily, but nodded, turning back towards the entrance to the Wilds.
Lilith took a deep, steadying breath before setting off, but she could feel the eyes of Daveth and Ser Jory on her as surely as if they had been able to burn holes into her back. 'Great job, Lilith,' she scolded herself, 'what a brilliant way to inspire confidence in the new recruits.'
A/N: I wasn't entirely sure where to end this chapter, but I think stopping here should be conducive to getting the next one up and rolling. It's a fair bit shorter than my last few chapters and I think the next few might be about this length, too. But, you never know, my fingers tend to run away from me, haha. I wasn't really sure how I was planning on writing the last part and it came out a little differently than I'd expected, but, I think it works...maybe... I'm not really sure. Either way, I'm so glad to finally have this chapter finished. I want to apologise again for the wait and say a big 'thank you' to all of my readers. And, as always, please leave a review. They really brighten up my day!
P.S. I had to put Alistair's "I'm wounded" line somewhere into this story. It's probably my favourite line out of all of his dialogue in game, but I couldn't remember when he said it and, as it turns out, I've missed it in this playthrough. I'm absolutely devastated!