Opposites
Morgana
It occurs to her, as she looks to Alistair once again - the difference between a trained warrior, practically born into it, and... well, her, a mage playing at soldiers.
He is, it seems, a man of opposites. It's the casual amble of his pace but the hand firmly on his sword hilt. It's the brief smile of reassurance he gives her, sensing her nervousness, but the way she knows him well enough to see that he's clenching his teeth, eyes taking everything in. It's the friendliness, the awkward witticisms, but the fact that he's the only friend she's ever had who can take down an ogre and shrug afterwards.
He spots her watching him. "Something wrong?" he asks, and she shakes her head. There's a pause, as she realises that there is.
"Well, actually..." She lowers her voice. "... it doesn't matter if we're Wardens. The way they're looking at us... We're shemlen."
He sighs, and then replies, voice also low, "I guess we are. But we can hardly help being human."
She's about to get herself into what she knows will be an argument, but jumps at a laugh from nearby. An elven child runs across the clearing near them, shooting them a smile. She sees an elf, clearly the child's mother, move to stand up, expecting trouble, but, as the boy runs past, she simply returns the smile.
Lanaya looks at them warily when they arrive, taking in their blood-streaked appearance and grim expressions, and asks them of the curse, of her keeper. They try to phrase it gently - well, Morgana does; she spots the incredulous glare from Alistair when she says, straight-backed and straight-faced, "The curse has been cured, with his help. He died a hero."
She tells herself that it's true - he compromised, stopped fighting them at the end. She thinks that takes a certain amount of bravery. The words still seem bland, though, tasting off in her mouth, and she remembers recoiling from the elf mage's desperate, mad attempts at vengeance.
Worse, though, was the knowledge of what humans had done to him, to his children, the shame she suddenly felt at being one of her own species - a species capable of compassion, but also terrible deeds such as these.
A species of opposites.
She returns her mind to the conversation, waiting for accusations and arrows, but the Dalish's new keeper is accepting, and quickly pledges the elves' assistance.
She smiles gratefully, and then the two of them walk back to their camp, at the outskirts of the Dalish's, bruised, battered and bloodied.
"We need to find a river," she says, grimly. "Clean up, then... stew, I suppose."
He opens his mouth, and she glares at him, swiftly adding, "And please, let Leliana cook it."
A note, seeing as the Dalish quest has been the longest story arc in this whole fic: As we (finally) move out of the Dalish camp, we move into new territory for the two Wardens. In store: Soldier's Peak, swimming, and just a bit of romance. Oh, and more reliable updates.
Expect PMs for reviews very soon - they aren't being ignored!