A/N: My first attempt at Dragon Age fanfiction! Yay! I've written stories before for other media (under different usernames), but I'm excited for this! I admit, I've only just started playing DA a bit ago, but I'm so enthralled with the characters, and the different plotlines for different Wardens. Alistair is by far my favorite character, so I think much of my work will center around him. But we'll see Enjoy! This story will be a three parter (I think… I have plans for three chapters, but who knows, one more might sneak up on me!) .
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own nothin'. Arya is the Warden that I'm playing right now. City Elf, rogue, mostly good, but snarky.
"So, you're turn. Tell me where you came from."
Your breath hitches in your throat. Your body is unable to move. Memories begin flashing through your mind. Soris. Shianni. Vaughn. Father. Nelaros…
"I can just see you now, you little elf. Duncan was there to recruit someone else, wasn't he? And you just fought your way to the front of the line and said, 'Here I am! Ready for all the battles and darkspawn I can get my hands on!' Ahh, who would've thought that a tiny elf could swing around her daggers like that? How'd you convince him?"
You're still unable to move, still staring at your bag you were packing. The smile that had been caused by one of the many jokes Alistair made fades from your lips, though with your back to him, he has no way of noticing. The faces of the people back home continue to flash through your mind, and Alistair's voice seems so distant now. You realize he's still speaking, but you can't understand his words. His sudden laughter snaps you back to reality, and you realize you're not ready to talk yet.
"We should keep moving. We've stayed here far too long," You say, closing your bag and walking away, never looking back.
"Arya," He calls softly, his voice full of surprise, but you don't stop. Your dog, now noticing you're moving, comes padding to your side, but you don't even stop to pet him, not even to smile. He faithfully continues with you, though you know your lack of affection has confused him. You call to the others to start packing, and walk away from the campsite without them.
You come to a small peaceful lake just outside of your campsite, just far enough away for the privacy you need, yet close enough you'll be able to hear your party's calls when they are ready to leave. You sit at the edge, gazing out and watching the steady ripples in the water. Your loyal companion sits next to you, his massive body slightly unsteady on the uneven ground you chose to sit on, but he never waivers, not even when you lean against him. Your dog may act silly at times, but he is smart, and knows that your lack of affection is not personal against him. He continues to sit quietly, knowing that his presence is enough for you.
The wonderful thing about dogs, you think, is that they don't ask questions.
The gentle waves lap up against the rocks by your feet, and you feel your head beginning to clear again. You realize that you're being unfair to Alistair; Maker knows that he has shared much of his personal life with you. Many of your party members have, though Sten has yet to. You wonder if he ever will, yet you're perfectly content with not knowing. Though his past may be shady, you trust him, and he trusts you. That is all the two of you require of each other.
Yet Alistair is different. He uses his witty comebacks and sarcasm as a shield against his pain, yet he was quick to bring that shield down for you. You have poked and pried well into his past, and he's told you many of his secrets, so why is it that you cannot tell him any of yours?
Time flies quickly, and by the time Alistair finds you, the sun is in a very different position than it was when you left. Your pointy ears hear the clank of his armor and his loud footsteps well before you're in his line of sight, but you don't call out to him. He'll find you.
Alistair comes to your side and shares the fallen log you're using as a bench. Like your dog, he seems to realize that sitting quietly will not chase you off, and you know he will not say anything until you do. Breaking the silence will be up to you.
You let minutes pass by, and Alistair does not move, only watches the lake like you. You wonder what is going through his mind right now. Is it about you? Is it about his past? What possibly lies ahead?
"I'm sorry."
The words are out of your mouth before you even thought to say them. He doesn't say anything in return, just continues his gaze onto the lake. But you know he heard you. You have his attention. And suddenly, you don't want to hold back anymore. Tears spring to your eyes, and you're losing control of your breathing.
This is not the way a leader should act, you think. I should be stronger. The past is behind me now. With so much coming ahead, I must focus on what is to come.
Words begin to babble out of your mouth, but not of your history. "I can't yet. I just can't. It's all too fresh and new. My past… I haven't even come to terms with it."
A sudden realization hits you as you say those words. You haven't, yet. Since arriving at Ostagar, you've avoiding even thinking about your past. Alistair may hide behind his sarcasm, but you hide behind your ignorance. How long has it been? How many days, weeks, months? Has it even been a year yet? With all the travelling, all the planning, all the fighting, you have lost count of the days. Your life at the alienage seems like a lifetime ago.
You look down at your feet, dejected. You feel like a failure. "How can I tell you about my demons when I can't face them myself?"
Alistair remains silent, though you notice that while he still faces the lake, he is looking away from the water, lost in his own thought. Suddenly the silence between you two becomes unbearable. You begin to pray for a response, anything from him, before you completely break down. Alistair seems to be deciding the right words to say. You know he isn't the most eloquent, often opting for sarcastic remarks during personal discussions. But this is your personal life you're discussing, not his. Perhaps he realizes sarcasm is not the best response right now.
Just as you are about to break down, he begins to speak. "I should have realized… I'm sorry. I didn't stop to think that you joining the Grey Wardens might not have been your choice. I was just so grateful and happy when the opportunity came along for me; I guess I forgot that it might not be same for everyone."
He turns his gaze onto you, and you suddenly realize how beautiful his eyes are. You almost forget why you're sitting there in the first place. Almost.
"Look, Arya, I know I'm not the smartest of the bunch here. I'm not the wisest, and I'm certainly not the best with words. I will claim, however, that I am the best looking," he says with this slightest of smiles. A chuckle escapes your lips, and all the tension you felt melts away. "But I've known you the longest here, and with all of our history with the Grey Wardens, I feel like I understand you better than anyone here. Not to say that I understand you. Because I don't. But I'd like to." He runs a hand through his hair. Had his hair always been that thick and shiny? "And there I go again, with mess of words coming out of my mouth."
He suddenly turns bright red, and the next words he says tumbles out of his mouth quickly, almost incoherently, but you're able to make them out. He pulls out something from behind his back, and nearly thrusts it into your hands. You look down and see a beautiful rose sitting in your lap. You're lost in its beauty: something so perfect in such an imperfect world.
"I saw this while looking for you, and I wanted to apologize for being an insensitive idiot, and for never watching my words, and, well, I wanted to see you smile." With that, a smile breaks across your face, probably the biggest smile since this journey began. He smiles too, looking pleased with himself, and continues at a slower pace. "Every Grey Warden's story is different, and too many are painful. If you ever want to, you know, talk, I promise to keep my mouth shut and listen." He stands and offers you his hand to pull you up. You accept, and for the first time notice how strong his hands are. You begin to feel almost nervous and suddenly lightheaded, and you know that it is not from standing too quickly. "We should get back, oh fearless leader, if we want to find another suitable campsite before nightfall."
You nod your head in agreement, and smile when he realizes that he's still holding your hand and drops it ungracefully, embarrassed. You don't quite understand your feelings, but you're glad to know that you're affecting him too.
As you make your way back, you realize Alistair is not going to judge you. He is not going to pity you. He is not going to treat you any different once you tell him. Perhaps he won't understand, but he'll be there to listen. He'll always be there.
Your party begins traveling, trying to find a new campsite in just a few hours. As you lead, Alistair comes up on your right. You look at him, and while his eyes connect with yours, you smile; pleased to see he smiles back. Perhaps you'll take him up on his offer to listen to your story. Perhaps even tonight.