Disclaimer: I own absolutely and completely nothing. Bioware has that particular pleasure.
Summary: A City-Elf/Bann Teagan collection of drabbles and one-shots based on a prompt table from an LJ-community. These will be more or less in chronological order with the faintest traces of added plot here and there. Will vary from drabble length to one-shot.
Author's note: I'm one year older :| Aish. That said, obviously, not that much time to write. This one is the continuation of the previous one, so expect the same subject, same calmness before I try my hand at the Landsmeet. Yay to that?
In this chapter:
026.
The stage still resists. Even after the riots, even after all the death and sorrow, it remains in the square, a witness to everything which has passed. She was presented to the community in this very stage, she whispers to herself. She learned her first dance steps, her first moves with a wooden sword, her first dance with Alarith, her first public argument with Soris. This stage is a part of her people's history and a part of her own as well. "I almost married here."
"Almost?"
His voice pulls her out of her reflections without effort. Teagan is able to that, push into another's mind without truly forcing himself to. Maybe it's his voice, his presence. Maybe it's just something that was taught to him while growing until it became natural. Whatever it is, it makes her stare at the older man, who looks at everything with a keen eye and mind. Tasha has no idea what he's thinking – though she'd hazard a guess it might have to do with the tight clothes which Shianni has thrown him into. It was obviously Shianni. Just because her cousin likes a human – she obviously does not hate him – it doesn't mean she has to.
"If you don't want to speak about it," he continues calmly, as if it doesn't matter. Again, it ripples through her and snaps her to reality. The Alienage does this. Makes her into the woman she had once been and not the Warden. A shame because that woman, that girl, is much more prone to blunt replies and sharp actions in order to avoid a subject. This is Teagan though, always hearing her without asking for nothing else bar a kind word. Her mind thinks twice before replying.
"Almost." Her foot taps against the wooden floor, once, twice, thrice, a small rhythm they had played in the past. "It was interrupted." Or destroyed? Definitely destroyed. She shouldn't downsize what it happened but if she doesn't, he'll take the other's faults, he'll try to assume the guilt. This is the kind of person Teagan is. "It was an arranged marriage," her voice keeps going, running ahead without worries, her body moves to take the place she did on that day. To the end of the stage and to the side, the bride and groom, her father right in front of her. It was also an early morning like this day, amazingly enough. They had drunk on the night before, danced until the moon was high in the sky and they ended up falling asleep somewhere between the door to the house and the table.
"I was right here." The sun was already high, it hit her eyes. "Nelaros was to the side. Then Soris and Valora. Shianni was there. The mother was in front. Bridesmaids to the side." Wynne is wrong. Between then and now, her memories have dulled, became less hurtful and sharp. She faced the Arl's Palace, how can her home harm her? Shianni faces this, every day, every moment and her example is nothing less than what she needs. A shake of her head and any odd feelings are buried in favor of her elder. "Valendrian was speaking," Tasha whispers, smiling because here, this is the place where she is freer. "Friends and family, today we celebrate not only this joining but also our bonds of blood and kin."
And she is moving forward just barely, opening her arms as she remembers her Hahren doing, mimicking his footsteps, hearing his calm voice washing over her body. Soothing. Valendrian was like the tree of the Alienage. Strong and soothing and protective, proud and everlasting. She misses him.
"We are now free." Memories play with her mind and she's not sure the words are correct. This is the right feeling though. "But that was not always so. Andraste, the Maker's Prophet, freed us from the bonds of slavery. As our community grows, remember where our strength lies."
The human moves to her side and he has this odd smile in his face, trying to see through her eyes, she cannot be sure. "You are standing on the wrong place. The bride is to the back, you said." There is a moment of confusion before Teagan touches her wrist again, very lightly, pulling her along without seeming to do so. She finds herself in the same place as that day. Nelaros to her side, Valora to the other, Soris wishing her good luck while his eyes mirrored resignation.
In the name of the Maker, who brought us this world, and in whose name we say the Chant of Light, I "Welcome you in this joyous day." And that part she never heard, Vaughan appeared before they could rejoice, surprise, hurt and destruction, that's all she remembers. Teagan, however, does not. And his words are steady on her ears, soothing like Valendrian's own.
"All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings." Is that a wink? The action is so ridiculous, so at odds with the words which leave her lips that Tasha has to keep cover her mouth, a snicker turned into coughing halfway. "Say only the words, repeat only the Chant. And thus Eileen spoke to the masses; My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours. For all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one. And in this place, two can become one."
The Alienage wakes early. Very early. And the impromptu show gathers audience ever so quickly. She can see Shianni already standing next to the tree, wary eyes trained on the man. No one forgets, they both remember. They were always similar.
"Thank you for your presence, Revered Mother," she interrupts him before it turns too serious and Shianni is harmed. "You look quite fetching this fine morning. Is your hair different? Clothes perhaps? Gender?" A look is her only reply, be silent, let me speak, let me change things. Change things? Change what and for whom? This is a game, she realizes, he's playing something and will not let her know until it's too late to stop him.
Another wink, embarrassed – the clothes – and sweet – his own values. "That is not what you should say. The words are… hm, you are standing wrong again." He pulls her back to her place, long fingers around her wrist. His voice sounds soothing in her ears, almost like a lullaby or a prayer. "In the Maker's name, in her name, she who has died for our sins, as they are one, so will we." Tasha almost feels like closing her eyes, leaning just slightly, rest. "Through health and sickness, through hardship and happiness, in the fire of our hearts and home, in the life that we share, in the Fade and beyond where they wait."
Some laugh, confused about everything which takes place. Some begin to complain. But Teagan – ridiculous, strange, crazy crazy man that he is – nods ever so lightly to his assembly – her – and ignores everyone else. She does not notice this small action. She does not even see Shianni attempt of a smile, the memories being displaced by this new one or her father's gaze, heavy on her shoulders. Instead, there's this childish frown in her expression, like a little girl facing a puzzle lacking several pieces. The play was well done, words and intent all perfect. But all that time, all while he spoke and joked around, he spoke the wrong words for the wrong place, never once standing in the Revered Mother's place. It doesn't make sense and she cannot understand. So she just stares at him, his eyes, his gestures and allows herself to take this scene in. Nothing else is important.
"My lady. Perhaps we should go now." The Alienage is waking up with the bright sun, messy and unwelcoming. Yes, she agrees looking at the human features he carries – and elven ones he does not possess. The conversation has ended, the play is over, reality stands right by their side – more or less where the Mother is supposed to stand – and they must leave. Tegan says nothing else, merely touches her wrist in that way he has been testing since the night before and motions to the Gates watching them. Side by side.
Side by side. Not in front of her but by her side. Two notice this, see the puzzle and grasp the missing piece.
Neither stands in the stage.