Usually I use PMs, but, since it was an anon review... Thank you to a mysterious Reader; I'm astonished someone would read it all in one sitting, but thanks for doing so! Brightened up my day, that did.
Don't be put off by the lack of obvious fluff here - I like to alternate between sweet and the occasional bit of bloody scary, and hopefully this chapter should have both. Let me know what you think.
Protection
Morgana
They look at the barrier in silence - even Morrigan has nothing to say. She throws a glance to Alistair, who tries to give a reassuring smile, and looks back to Leliana. Her friend gives her a smile of her own. She exhales, then they walk through the mist.
The scene that greets them is of a calm forest, but she can feel the tension in the air; the others' shoulders are set, just... waiting.
It's a few minutes before she feels a tap on her back; she jumps, hand on her sword hilt, but it's only Leliana, looking back worriedly and whispering in her ear, "There are... footprints. Behind us. We are being followed." She nods as calmly as she can (though her hands are shaking), Leliana steps away, and they keep walking.
It isn't long before they meet the first group of wolves; she's sure she recognises one of them. She tries to gain entry to the ruins beyond, but they offer no choice. She sees the wolves tense as she suggests a peaceful discussion, hears the slow hiss from behind her of Alistair drawing his sword. Her eyes briefly flicker sideways, then make contact with the leader's once again in silent warning.
There will be no compromise. The taut string of peace between them snaps, the wolves lunging.
Their group moves as fast as their enemies do; Leliana is at her side, throwing herself behind the wolves; she feels the heat of magical fireballs already being thrown; Alistair has a firm hand on her chest, gently pushing her back, and they retreat together to pull back and assess. She draws her sword, looking to him. A nod, and then they part ways, him running to another wolf; she realises that he trusts her to mostly hold her own now, and that brings both pride and a hollow ache in her chest at the thought of being without his protection. She frowns as she awkwardly ducks a wolf's claw, her sword coming up to stab it through the chest. She's being stupid. She gets out of the way of the falling wolf just in time, walking backwards, watching the battlefield to try to take everything in.
She finishes off a wolf that Leliana has incapacitated, looking to the last.
Seeing her fellow Warden move, she remember why she wanted to learn swordwork; she could make pretty light shows, but there is something so primal, so wild, about this. She sees the training in every move, stances flowing into each other with a certain brutal beauty; he winces as he slams into the beast, but his strength carries him through, pushing it back. He's breathing heavily, wiping blood from his mouth, as he backs away from it; she reaches out with her mana, wincing at the sympathetic toothache, and quickly heals him. His eyes flit to her, and a smile teases the corner of his mouth, and then he's hastily dodging the beast, sword and shield at the ready.
It's a quick kill, as clean as he can make it, and as she watches it fall, sees him calmly sheathe his sword, she can't help but think that she's bloody lucky; he's never used that strength against her, only defending her. She remembers again the tales of the mighty Wardens, the best of Thedas, and for a moment, can see it in him, a certain half-afraid awe rising in her.
Then he grins at her, and the spell is broken - somewhere inside her, she's very glad that he's back to just Alistair. "We're all still alive? Nothing broken? Great. Now for more werewolves, and more of their lovely breath."
He's soon at her side again, and, as they walk onwards, finally daring to breathe again, he murmurs, "Thanks for that, by the way."
She shakes her head. "You don't need to - "
His smile grows wider, his eyes searching her face. "I know. But I like to."
She feels sudden heat in her cheeks, and, mystified, looks away, her eyes settling on the leather of her boots. "The leader ran. I think he's somewhere inside the ruins."
"I, er, might not have got to him in time..."
She shrugs. "We'll find him. I'd rather avoid all... this, though." She looks behind them, at the bodies of the wolves.
He sighs, his eyes sad. "I know what you mean, but... we're Wardens. We do what's necessary."
"You sound like Duncan," she says, quietly. "You're too young for his voice to suit you. There's always a choice."
A shrug. "Maybe. And maybe we can kill the Archdemon with fluffy rabbits and the power of love. Who knows?" That damn grin is back, and it's already spreading.
"Oh, Alistair..." she groans, as they enter the ruins, "... that was nearly as bad as 'holding hands at the darkspawn'."
She expects him to flinch at the mention of Ostagar, and she sees something change briefly behind his eyes, but then he gives a mock sigh, looking to the stone ceiling. "Ah, the good old days..."