A/N: Thank you so much to those who've made reviews! I'm having so much fun writing for Dragon Age. I think the best thing is that all authors have such different perspectives for their Warden character, which makes sense because we've all played the game differently. What more, we all have different perspectives on the other characters themselves. When I play the game, I really despise Morrigan (I haven't gotten too far in the game, but every time she opens her mouth I want to smack her. Now that Wynne's with us, Morrigan's usually not in my party). But I just read a fic where the Warden and Morrigan have a heart to heart, and the author did such a phenomenal job keeping that harshness Morrigan has yet showing her vulnerability. I'll have to pay closer attention to Morrigan next time I play.
OK, enough ranting. Here's chapter two!
Night has fallen. Tents are pitched and the campfire is made just as the last beams of the sun fall below the horizon. The day's journey had been tiring; the rocky terrain was more difficult to travel on than you expected. Every party member was worn and ready to rest. While your body calls for sleep, your mind is wide awake, contemplating your past, and whether or not you're ready to talk about it.
Your party members begin trickling into their tents: first Morrigan, wanting to escape into solitude, and lastly Alistair, probably hoping you'll speak now that everyone has disappeared. But even as he sits beside you by the fire, chatting away about something silly and lighthearted, his eyes begin to droop, and his stories are frequently interrupted by his yawns. You send him to his tent. He's hesitant to leave you, but you promise to wake him for second watch. He walks away, looking over his shoulder one last time to look at you, perhaps hoping you'll call him back. You continue to gaze into the fire instead, and watch out of the corner of your eye as he disappears behind the flaps.
You stare into the fire, happy for the solitude. Even your faithful dog has fallen asleep, right outside your tent, waiting to go inside when you join him. The flames take shape in front of your eyes, and you find yourself seeing the faces of those you left behind. You have been thinking about your past since Alistair brought it up, and now it seems to be haunting you. You're beginning to realize that they only way to dispel your ghosts is to talk about them. Admitting your mistakes to someone might put them to rest.
Suddenly, you want to tell Alistair everything. Right then and there. Confess everything to him to get it off your chest. But it's nighttime, and he'll he sound asleep by now. He needs it, after the day they had. You shouldn't be selfish and take that much needed rest away from him. But you need to talk, and you need to talk now.
"My dear Warden, I'm surprised to see you still awake."
You jump up, grab for your dagger, and whirl to face your intruder, only to realize that it's Wynne. You return the dagger to its sheath, trying to calm your fast-beating heart. "Wynne, you gave me a fright, what are you still doing up?"
"I could ask you the same thing. I'm surprised you didn't hear me sooner. My footsteps could have woken Oghren from a drunken stupor." You look sheepishly at your feet, ashamed for not hearing Wynne approach. What was the point of being on watch if you were not prepared to hear attackers? "Tell me, Arya, what it is that is bothering you. I've noticed that lately you have not been yourself."
Wynne approaches your side and puts a comforting hand on your arm. You realize that you could tell her anything as well without facing judgment, but it's not her you want to talk to. You struggle to find the words to tell her, yet nothing comes. She smiles all the same.
"I know that this has something to do with Alistair. He was the one you fled from earlier, yet he was the one to bring you back. Perhaps now he is the one you should flee to." Her eyes are giving you a knowing look. "Go to him. Talk to him. He will not mind that it is the middle of the night. I do not believe we should leave tomorrow anyway, not with the day we had today. There will be time for sleep later. But now is the time to talk. Go. I'll take the next watch."
You smile gratefully, yet slightly embarrassed to realize that you're being so transparent. You wonder if anyone else has noticed, but decide that they probably have not. Morrigan would have made some sort of nasty comment, and Oghren would have joked. Wynne is just highly observant. Thanking her, you make your way to Alistair's tent. Your dog raises his head when he hears you walking, but rests it back down on his paws when he sees you're walking away from him. His eyes are still lit by the firelight, watching you. But you'll be back out here soon enough.
You gently open the flap and peek your head in. With the little amount of light you let in, you can vaguely see his outline under his blankets. His light snores reach your ears, and for some reason, it makes you smile. He seems so innocent, so at peace. You reconsider waking him up, but you still yearn to talk to him.
"Alistair?" You call softly.
So quickly you hardly see, he jumps up with his sword in hand, ready to face his attacker. After a moment, he realizes that it's you. At the same moment, you both realize that he is not wearing any clothing at all.
"Arya!" He yelps as you pull your head from the flap. You look down embarrassed at your feet, your face burning as you hear him shuffle around in his tent. Wynne looks over and smiles to herself, and you are grateful that she does not comment.
A few minutes goes by, and Alistair pulls back the flaps to his tent, inviting you inside. His face is bright red from embarrassment, and you can feel that yours is too, but you agree without words to not mention the previous moment.
"So," he says, clearing his throat. "What can I do for you in this late hour of the night? If you're looking for something specific, I may not be able to help you. Zevran, on the other hand..."
"I am looking for something specific, but not that," You say, throwing him a glare. Your face begins burning once again, and your heart skips a beat at the smile he gives you. But now's not the time for that. You entered his tent for a reason, and you're going to see that you get your mission accomplished. "You asked me about my past," You say quietly. You force yourself to look at him, even though you want to look down. You remind yourself that you trust him, that of all the friends you have, he is your best one. "Would you still like to know?"
You know the answer already, but you're giving him a way out, just in case. Logically, you know he won't take it, but the self-conscious part of you fears that he will. His eyes bore into yours, and you steadily hold his gaze, though inside you're shaking.
"If you are ready to tell me, than I am most certainly ready to listen." He sits and motions for you to do the same. You are grateful that his offer still stands, and that he is so willing. You sit across from him, facing him, that way you can force yourself to look at him while you speak.
"How much do you know about alienages in cities?" You ask.
He opens his mouth to say something, then quickly shuts it. After a long pause, he admits, "Not much, really."
You're sure he's heard something; every human in a city has, even if they never visited one. But he was probably told lies: Either that alienages were not so bad, or that City Elves were flea-bitten mongrels. You've heard all of those stories. You were probably the first City Elf he met that was not a servant.
You think back your alienage. Though you've never been to another one, you can imagine they're all fairly similar. "The standard of living is terrible. We live all below poverty. Most nights, many elves will go to bed hungry, too poor to feed themselves or their family that day. Few are lucky to have a decent paying job. My father was one of them. While I never went to bed hungry, I watched all of those around me who did. But we are simple and happy folk. Our elders remind us of when we were enslaved, and tell us to be happy we are free. In my alienage, my people loved to celebrate. Almost anything was a cause for celebration."
Alistair was listening intently, never taking his eyes off of you. You could practically hear him thinking, and you know that he knew none of this. You continue on.
"You asked me if I volunteered for the Grey Wardens. The answer is no, I did not. I was conscripted by Duncan. He... he saved my life." You pause and look down, trying to figure out where to go from there.
"He tends to do that, you know. He..." Alistair realizes he's talking about Duncan as if he's still alive, and quickly quiets down, dropping his gaze.
"When I first met Duncan, I admit I was not very friendly. In fact, I was downright rude. You do not often see humans in alienages, and when you do, they're often causing trouble. I told him to leave, and threatened to take my knives out at him. He just laughed, and even though I was impolite to him, he said nothing but kind words. I'll always remember that..." You trail off, grasping at the memory of the man who saved your life.
"That very day, I was to be married." Alistair's head snaps back up and looks at you. You see something flicker across his face... was it jealousy? But just as quickly as it came, it disappears. "I was finally of marriageable age, and like all good fathers, mine dutifully set up a good match. It was to be a double wedding. I was going to get married alongside my cousin, Soris.
"The morning of our weddings, a human named Vaughn came down to the alienage. He was the son of the local lord and thought that he could do as he pleased. He began running his mouth when Shianni, Soris' sister, broke a vase over his head. Needless to say, he was angry. He left with his cronies and returned to his castle, but I knew he'd be back.
"Later that day, I was standing on a stage with Soris, his fiancé, and my husband to be. His name was Nelaros. Just before we were to say our vows, Vaughn returned, this time with about a dozen guards. He said he wanted to have some fun of his own, and threatened to take Shianni back to his castle." You trail off again, looking down, the scene of Vaughn's return replaying in your head.
"What did you do?" Alistair's voice breaks the silence. You almost forgot he was there. It was as if you were telling the story to yourself.
"I stepped forward and told him to take me instead of her. He just laughed, and knocked me unconscious. The next thing I know, I awake inside one of the rooms in the castle, with Soris' fiancé and two other female elves. They told me the men took Shianni away. I knew at once I had to find her.
"The guards walked in a few moments later, with Soris close behind. When they saw him with his bow and arrows, and a sword, they laughed at him. He slid the sword right between their legs to me." You pause to remember the ghosts of their smiles still on their faces as you slew them.
You take a deep breath and continue. "Soris and I fought our way through the castle, slaying any guard we met. We eventually came to a room where we found the body of Nelaros. Soris said he came to help rescue me. One of the guards killed him." You begin to play with your middle finger on your right hand where you wear the wedding ring you rescued from your fiancé's body. Alistair doesn't seem to notice.
"We finally found Vaughn and his friends. Behind them on the ground was Shianni. She was..." Your breath catches in your throat as you see her in your mind, beaten and bloody. Alistair reaches out his hand and places it on yours, comforting you, reminding you that he's still there. You shake your head to clear it and continue. "Vaughn offered us money to leave and never return. He said he would forget. But I knew better than that. He wouldn't forget. And I wouldn't just leave without avenging my people. Neither would Soris. I think he was the one to kill Vaughn while I handled his friends. Pity, I would have loved to see the look on his face as he was killed by the female elf he was meant to rape."
Alistair squeezes your hand, but you let it go. The more comfort he gives you, the more likely you are to cry. You refuse to let that happen. You've made it through the worst part, now on to talk about Duncan.
"We returned to the village carrying Shianni. The elder was there, so was Duncan. Others took Shianni away to treat her while they asked Soris and me what happened. Soon after, guards arrived. When they asked who was responsible, I took all the blame. I saw Soris struggle with it behind me, but there was no use getting us both in trouble. His fiancé was still alive and well, and he still had a chance to be happy. I was never destined for that."
You grow quiet again, remembering the look on the guard's face as you took full responsibility. You knew he didn't believe you, that you didn't act alone, but he thanked you for being honest.
"As they were arresting me," You continue on. "Duncan asked them to release me into his custody. At first they refused, but when reminded of conscription, the guards handed me over. They told us we had to leave by nightfall, and that was that. I left with Duncan within the hour. You know the rest from there."
You and Alistair sit in silence for a while, both taking it all in. Then, suddenly, in a voice so small you hardly hear him, he asks a question.
"Did you love him?"
At first you believe he means Duncan. Duncan was an amazing man, and no one knew that better than Alistair. But as you look into his eyes, the small lantern causing them to flicker, you realize he's talking about Nelaros.
You shake your head. "I hardly knew him. He was polite, seemed dutiful, and was willing to take care of me. He put himself between the guards and me when they showed up during our wedding. He died for me. I hope he died bravely. For that I will always be grateful, but no, I did not love him."
The silence between the two of you begins to grow uncomfortable, and now you start believing you may have made a mistake by telling him. But after a few moments, he looks back up at you, and takes your hand again.
"Thank you for telling me," Is all he says.
It's a strange thing to say, you think, thanking you for telling him such a sad story. Then you realize he's not thanking you for the story; he's thanking you for letting him in and telling him your secrets. You flush red again and you don't know why. He's still holding your hand, and he's a lot closer now that the story is finished. When did he move so close? Or did you move closer unknowingly? Either way, the new found closeness makes your heart beat a little faster.
"You've already told me much about your past, it's only fair that I make you listen to mine," You say jokingly, though he doesn't smile. His gaze is fixed intently on you, and you start feeling even more nervous, even more anxious. His eyes are still flickering from the flame, disturbing the peaceful sea of green. "Thank you for listening," You say honestly. "And thank you for the rose. It truly did make me smile."
You nervously smile again, your heart beating even faster when he doesn't return it. His gaze is unbreakable, and you're memorized, almost hypnotized by the flickering in his eyes. And all of a sudden, you realize that his face is mere inches from yours. You can feel his warm breath from his slightly parted lips on your face. His eyes drop their gaze from yours, only to look at your lips, and you realize that you've stopped breathing.
His face is now so close to yours, you're sure he can hear your heart beating. He drops his hand from yours, only to place is gently on your cheek. He wipes away a tear that escaped your eye without you noticing and tucks your hair behind your ear. You close your eyes.
It must have been the cue he was waiting for, because suddenly his lips are on yours. You've been kissed before by boys in the alienage, but those kisses were unexpected and usually ended with you chasing the boy down with a stick and beating him senseless. Those kisses were hard, as if the boy slammed his face into yours. Those boys had rough, cut up lips from dehydration. Those kisses ended so quickly you hardly knew it happened until it was over.
Not this kiss, though. Alistair's lips were warm and smooth. His kiss was gentle, and you find yourself wanting more. As he slowly pulls away, his eyes still closed, you find yourself leaning in again. You place one hand on the back of his neck to bring him closer, while your other arm slides under his and curls around his back. His hand tangles itself in your hair while he snakes the other around your back, holding you close.
And suddenly, the softness of your kisses isn't enough for either of you. You begin pulling each other closer. The kisses become faster, harder, more passionate. You're not sure how, but you've managed to pull yourself into his lap (or did he pull you into his lap?), your legs on either side of his hips. His thumb grazes by a sensitive spot on your neck, and you gasp at the feeling that bolts through you. Alistair takes this opportunity to replace his thumb with his lips, and you can't think clearly anymore.
Well, this is certainly not the reason I came into his tent tonight..., you think as you begin to lose yourself.