We had been on the road for almost two weeks, and were now less than a day's ride from Redcliffe. As much as I didn't relish the idea of returning to the castle empty-handed, our supplies were running about as low as our morale as we made our way through the harsh countryside, battling torrential rain, howling winds, and the occasional group of darkspawn. Despite the harsh conditions and the fact that I had never felt truly dry since leaving Denerim, the smile only rarely left my face.
The first night that we made camp, I started to set my tent up only to be met with a quizzical look from Alistair.
"What are you doing? You'll be...you'll be sharing a tent with me, won't you?"
I had been a little hesitant at first, given the day of intense ribbing we'd endured from the rest of our party, but the second he drew close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the intoxicating scent of his skin, all of the fight left me. Of course, I'd be sharing a tent with him.
Of course I wouldn't be sleeping alone as long as I had the option to fall asleep in his arms.
We didn't exactly have much privacy, though. We shared many a heated kiss but ultimately, lying in a thin, canvas tent so close to the others that I could hear Sten breathing wasn't very conducive to a healthy sexlife. Given the proximity of Alistair's body every night and the inability to go any further than a kiss meant that regular dips in a cold river had become a welcome thing.
I wasn't sure how he was coping, as every boy I'd ever kissed to the point of excitement back home had treated their erection like it was a medical condition…I'd heard many an indignant, "Are you just going to leave me like this?" He endured, admirably, with nary a word of complaint, seemingly happy just to spend time with me. I couldn't say I shared his strength.
To begin with, I sort of enjoyed teasing him. I revelled in his longing sighs and even in his groans of discomfort. It made me feel sexy and powerful. In the end, though, I was just playing myself, as he wasn't the only one lying awake, aching with desire night after night. When Grayson announced that we'd be spending a night in Redcliffe before heading to Haven, I almost sank to my knees and cried out thanks to the Maker that we would finally get to be alone again with four walls between ourselves and our companions.
In the absence of our new found sexlife, we spent a lot of time talking, and I started to doubt that I could keep my secret from him much longer. It was growing increasingly difficult, given how open he was being about every single aspect of his life. I almost slipped up, a few times, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep the lie going for. It seemed less beneficial with every passing day.
As well as the talking, there was a lot of play-fighting - I guess because of the pent-up energy and sexual tension that had built to a point that it was almost painful. Wolfies was his new favourite game, and he brought it out at every opportunity. At one point, when I was desperately trying to roll away from him, I wondered if the relationship was even worth it, or if I should just break up with him. That's how much I hate being tickled but he never seemed to take my protests seriously.
Despite all that, I was hopelessly smitten. It was alarming, and I often caught myself staring at him with a dopey grin on my face as we rode, but I was simply too happy to check myself. I didn't care that the others delighted in mocking us both - I knew that their light-hearted barbs all came from a good place. Even Zevran, who had gone for the low-hanging fruit on our first day of travelling by remarking that it must have been tiring for us to have a long day of riding after a long night of...he was swiftly cut off before he could finish that thought, but we all knew where he was going.
Alistair was just so unlike any of the other men I had known. Any guy back home who had shown any interest in me had been...just awful. There was really no comparison, but that didn't stop my brain from offering one for me to hold up to the light and examine. I thought back to one night in particular, when a few of the girls, including Emily and I, had snuck out of our dormitory at St Margarets to go to a party in the nearby village of Coalburn.
I wrinkled my nose at the memory...
...The party was in full swing when we arrived and the host, my good friend Calum, had greeted me with a sweaty hug at the door, before handing me a plastic cup of something which I promptly dumped out into his mother's geraniums before pouring my own drink and joining in the festivities.
I cast my eyes over the crowd to find my sister already making out with Seth Logan, her then-boyfriend who had never quite managed to win me over - which is to say, I hated him on sight and the feeling was entirely mutual. A few of the boys from the local high school spotted me standing alone and I saw them point to me, quickly looking away from them in hopes they wouldn't come over. No such luck.
"Hey, Emily!" Gavin Grieve sidled over to me, immediately throwing an unwelcome arm over my shoulders. "What's up, babe? How do you manage to get hotter every time I see you?"
I threw him a cold look and he removed his arm so quickly it looked like he'd been burned.
"Woah, Lauren. Sorry. Thought you were your sister, there." He murmured, dropping his gaze to the floor. "How's it going, man?"
"No, no." I said, icily. "You can leave now."
"Holy shit, man. That is so harsh." A boy I didn't recognise, one of Gavin's entourage, laughed, slapping him on the back in a commiseratory fashion. I immediately lost interest and went back to scouring the room, trying to see if there was anyone present who was tolerable enough to save me from what was quickly shaping up to be another dull party.
It took me a moment or two to notice that the new boy was still talking about me, very loudly, in hopes that I would respond. He had a mischievous twinkle in his eye and I looked at him with marked disinterest, realising he was waiting for a response to whatever he had just said.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't listening. You just have, like...no charisma." I said, with faux-politeness. The rest of the group laughed, elbowing him and congratulating me on the "sick burn!" He sniffed, licking his lips and eyeing me up and down, clearly thinking of a come-back. "Okay, I can see your little brain struggling to come up with something to say, so let me save you the trouble. I'm not interested. I'm just waiting on some friends, so if you'd like to…"
"Friends?" Gavin piped up, clearly finding some new confidence with the pack of hyenas at his back. He looked around, emphatically. "What friends would those be?"
Predictably, the crowd went wild at this devastating take-down.
"Oh, Gavin. I'd call you a cunt, but you have neither the warmth, nor the depth."
"Honey, you're not pretty enough to be this much of a bitch." The new boy cut in, bringing what was clearly the most cutting insult he could think of.
"Strong words coming from the guy with a face like a melted boot." I said, with a pleasant smile.
"How the fuck has nobody dropped a house on you by now?"
"They're probably too busy trying to figure out how you survived infancy."
He grinned, apparently enjoying the back and forth.
"Can I get you a drink?"
"Why?" I frowned, suspiciously.
"Because fighting with you has been the most fun I've had since I got here. Maybe we could do it some more? Somewhere without this lot?" He said, jerking his head towards his friends.
"Oh, no, sweetie, you've misread the situation. The only way you could get laid is if you crawled up a chicken's arse and waited."
"I love this girl, man." He grinned to the others. "She's fucking funny."
"She's evil." Gavin said, quietly, turning to leave.
"He's right, you know." I said, as the new boy stepped forwards, taking Gavin's place beside me. "You should go back to your friends."
"I'm Mason." He said, unphased, offering his hand for me to shake. I frowned down at the offending appendage.
"Are you in the Mafia, Mason? Who shakes hands at a party?"
He grinned, wolfishly, dropping the hand and taking a swig of his beer.
"It's Lauren, right? We should hang out sometime."
"Are you okay, Mason?" I asked, suddenly annoyed by his persistence despite my clear disinterest. "Did you get enough oxygen in the womb?"
"I don't know. I guess I just like a girl who can hold her own." He said.. "There aren't many guys who can go toe-to-toe with me as far as witty banter goes."
"Your patter is chronically atrocious." I muttered.
"Yours is alright. Can I get your number?"
"No."
"Alright, that's cool. I'll find you on facebook."
"Try finding a clue, you lunatic." I said, shaking my head, but I was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He wasn't taking no for an answer and, despite all of my posturing, the only weapon I had come armed with was my wit.
We shared a few more barbs, and then he followed me around for a bit, asking questions, cracking jokes, wearing me down as I got steadily drunker and I eventually had to admit that he was pretty funny, in an annoying sort of way. I still wasn't interested, and when he cornered me and tried to kiss me I ducked under his arm, shooting him a look of repulsion that quickly set his temper aflame.
"Why are you playing so hard to get when you're so hard to want?" He growled, red-faced, looking around as a few people who had noticed my silent rejection tittered in amusement.
"If I'm so hard to want, why don't you just leave me alone?" I snapped, feeling the heat rise in my face.
"Yeah. Enjoy being alone. What guy would put up with that shit?" He spat, storming away from me, his pride bruised, all of his hard graft going to waste. I rolled my eyes, catching sight of my friend Clive standing out on the patio having a smoke. I walked out, hugging my arms as the chill night air hit me. October in Scotland is no joke.
"Hey, little mama." Clive grinned, the soothing lilt of his Jamaican accent immediately flooding me with the warmth of familiarity that can only come from seeing an old friend, as he leaned down, pulling me into a one-armed hug.
"Hey, big bear." I smiled, leaning into him.
"How are you doing, girl? Staying out of trouble? Takin' lines and shaggin' nines?" He asked, in an outrageously poor imitation of a Scottish accent.
"Tannin' vodka and shaggin'...naeb'dy." I replied, in an exaggerated Glaswegian accent.
"Keeping on the straight and narrow, little bird? That's chill."
"How are things with you? I heard you and Melanie got back together."
"Yeah, girl. Third time lucky, y'know?" He said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "What about you? Leaving a trail of broken hearts around South Lanarkshire?"
"I've been staying quiet. Studying, messing around with the old six-string. Gaming, you know how it is."
"Oh, yeah? What's your gamertag? Get you in a little co-op Call of Duty like the old days."
"Nah, CoD's not really my thing, anymore." I said. "I haven't played it in a minute. I've been into RPGs lately. Mass Effect, Skyrim...Dragon Age."
"Man, I tried to get into that game but I got bored halfway through."
"No, no, no! Clive! You have to stick with it, it's spectacular!" I said, appalled.
"Alright, little mama. Maybe I'll give it another whirl." He said, chuckling at the look of indignation on my face. I felt like he'd personally insulted me.
We chatted a little more, before the cold night air drove us back inside and we got caught up in different groups, the vodka raising my tolerance for most of the people there. By the time we got back to our dormitory, all in varying states of inebriation, my altercation with Gavin Grieve and his friends was a distant memory. Until it wasn't.
"Lauren met a boy." Louise Carmichael said, in a sing-song voice, as we all lay in bed.
"You met a boy?" Emily asked, excitedly. "What boy?"
"That Mason guy. He's from Hamilton, he goes to Holy Cross, but he plays football with Gavin." Louise said, knowingly. I made a dismissive noise in my throat.
"He's a moron." I said, sighing sleepily.
"He's hot." Louise grinned. "I heard you got friendly in Craig's mum's bedroom."
My eyes flew open and I sat up, glaring at her.
"We did no such thing." I snapped. "Who told you that?"
"I heard him talking about it with Gavin and Mark." She said, that stupid grin still on her face.
"That's bullshit." I growled. "He tried to kiss me, I patched him, and he was a little bitch about it."
"Well, he's telling everyone that you hooked up."
"Well, he's obviously lying. You know? That thing that men do whenever their lips move?"
"You can tell us, Lauren." She said, still smiling.
"No, she's telling the truth." Emily said, jumping to my defense.
"How do you know?"
"Because I know my sister." She said, loyally.
"Okay, okay...if you say so, Em."
"I say so." I cried, indignantly. "We're not all so desperate for male attention that we just throw it around to anyone, Louise."
Even I knew that I was off-side, but the news that some guy was spreading lies about me had really sparked my temper, and Louise just happened to be the messenger.
"Eh...what's that supposed to mean?" She asked, her own temper flaring to meet mine, which only gave me the green light to escalate the situation.
"You're obsessed with guys. Every conversation I've ever had with you, it's just boys, boys, boys. Have you ever even tried to pass the Bechdel test?"
"I am not obsessed with...what's the Bechdel test?"
I laughed, shrilly, throwing myself back down onto my pillows.
"I can't fucking stand listening to you prattle on about what guy said what, and whether or not they might fancy you, and "so-and-so did this, what do you think that means"?" I spat, in a cruel imitation of her. "It's inane. You have the depth of a fucking puddle."
"Harsh, Lauren." Emily muttered, warningly.
"This is what girls talk about. Just because nobody's interested in you." She sniffed, falling silent.
"I don't fucking care, Louise. I couldn't care less if anybody's interested in me. I'm quite sure that if I wanted a boyfriend, I could go out and get one. I just don't fucking care about boys."
"Och, do you know what, Lauren? You're a f-"
"Guys!" Emily snapped. "Enough. Jesus Christ, this is the stupidest argument I've ever heard. Yes, Lauren, you think boys are dumb. We all know how you feel about that. It doesn't make us idiots for being teenage girls and doing regular teenage girl stuff."
"Just because all she does is sit inside and play the playstation like a lose-"
"Louise, I'll come over there and-"
"Ladies." Emily hissed.
The silence was tense, and I huffed, rolling over to face the wall and muttering to myself.
"The day you get a boyfriend, and you find out what it actually feels like to fall in love, I'm going to laugh so fucking hard at how much of a prick you'll feel for being so judgemental." Louise whispered, tearfully. I was too drunk and too tired to respond, but I was quite certain I would feel no such thing. The next morning, we all woke up hungover, last night's fight swiftly forgotten as Louise and I returned to our usual relationship of barely tolerating each other.
Oh, how Louise Carmichael would laugh if she could see me now. I really did feel like a prick for being so judgemental. She was still an idiot, though.
But she was right about one thing. I had no idea falling in love would change me. I thought I knew myself quite well. I was Lauren DuVal, ice-queen extraordinaire. Somehow, Alistair had lit a fire inside of me, and the ice that had surrounded my heart, and kept it safe and protected, had slowly melted away to reveal a warm, beating organ full of greeting-card slogans and fluffy teddy bears.
I detested the feeling, and revelled in it all at once. It made me feel incredibly vulnerable, but at the same time, I felt fiercer and stronger than ever before. I felt that, with Alistair by my side, I could take on anyone or anything. I could save the world, and then change it for the better.
The night before we reached Redcliffe, I opted out of sparring practice, eager for a little alone time. As much as I loved falling asleep with Alistair, I did miss having some time by myself to decompress and sort through my own thoughts. I lay on my stomach on my bedroll, propping open the flap of our tent so that I had some of the light from the fire to write by. It was dim, but it was good enough. Over the sounds of steel clashing against steel as Alistair and Grayson sparred at the other side of the camp, I looked down at the blank page of my diary, chewing my pen, thoughtfully.
Dear Diary
We've been riding for a couple of weeks and, as always, when we ride, my brain kicks into overdrive. So I'll just write this down, in hopes that it'll make more sense on paper than it makes in my own head.
I've been thinking a lot about Emily. The whole reason I'm even in Thedas was because I was searching for answers about her death. The problem is, I'm still no closer to finding any, and I really don't know where to start. I've spoken with Morrigan about it a little. Asked her if there was anything in the grimoire that might shed some light, but I know I'm just clutching at straws, really. I'm starting to believe that I may never find out what happened to her. I am not at peace with this possibility.
I've also been thinking a lot about something that Flemeth said, when I first came here and all I wanted was to get back. She said I wouldn't be able to return home until I ended the blight. Well, ending the blight is obviously priority numero uno but...my other priorities have changed. I don't want to go home. Maybe ever. I miss my parents, of course. I miss indoor plumbing, central heating, my car, McDonald's drive-thru, texting, google, my guitar...Not to mention that I popped out during the golden age of television. I'll never get to see the final season of Game of Thrones, which is...you know, devastating. But none of it compares to how much I would miss the family I've found here.
I'm in love, in a completely hopeless, all-consuming way. Alistair is more than a boyfriend, at this point. I can't even imagine what my life would look like without him in it, and I don't want to. Not ever. So I don't want to go back to that other world. It's not home anymore. Home is the way I feel when I'm with him. I just hope I get a choice in the matter, when the time comes, because if I don't, if I'm taken back there the same way I was brought here in the first place...it just doesn't bear thinking about.
Every day I spend with Alistair, with every stupid joke he tells, every facial expression he makes, every time he catches me off guard with a sweet word...with every little thing he does, I just find myself falling more and more in love with him. And the deeper I fall, the harder it is to tell myself that I'm doing the right thing by keeping this huge part of myself from him. I want him to know me. All of me. I don't want to have secrets. I know Flemeth said that I had to be careful with my knowledge of events, but what if I just left that last little part out? If I just left out the few hundred hours of my life that I spent playing Dragon Age and told him the rest? Where I'm from, what my world's like, how I got here...surely that wouldn't cause the stars to blink out and the oceans to dry up? What if I just did that? What if?
Sooner or later, I believe I'm going to have to. Keeping this secret is giving me a sore throat, because every time we talk I feel like it's just lodged there, waiting to burst out of me like that scene in Alien. So why not sooner? I didn't ask for any of this. I never wanted this burden. And I had no way of knowing that somehow, through all of the horror and the suffering, I would fall in love.
He might not even believe me. He might think I'm an insane person and back away, slowly. But somehow, I think he will. I think he will, because I know in my heart that if the tables were turned around, I would believe him. And even if he does think I'm crazy, that might not be so terrible. For one thing, it might put a stop to this completely unrealistic view he has of me.
This is going to sound like the mother of all first-world problems, but hear me out. His perception of me, though flattering, makes me all sorts of uncomfortable, not least because I'm lying to him. It's kind of like wearing shoes that are two sizes too small. It makes me feel inadequate, like I'm always striving to be this idealised version of myself that he loves. And I'm just...not that. If I told him the truth, maybe he would start to see things a little clearer. Or maybe it would just make things worse. He thinks it's exotic that I'm from Starkhaven. I wonder what he would think if he knew I'm really from another dimension? I can't think how I would broach the subject. Maybe something like, "Hey, so you know how the world's gone all topsy turvy and blighty? Well, hold onto your knickers, because I'm about to drop some knowledge on you, son."
Or, maybe not.
I've also been thinking, occasionally, about the future. At the moment, the blight is looming large, and it almost feels like when it's over, that really is the end of the game.
But I know better than that.
I've been trying to wrap my mind around everything that comes next...with Anders, with the mages and templars, Corypheus, the breach, the Inquisition...Solas. Fucking Solas. And the role that the wardens will play in all of it. The fate of everyone...Grayson, Alistair, Leliana, Cullen, Morrigan, Hawke, the Inquisitor, whoever he or she turns out to be. It's...a lot. It's too much knowledge, and not enough, all at once. Part of me wants to just forget that I know these things. When the blight is over, if we all survive, part of me wants to just grab Alistair and head for the hills. But then there's this other part of me that wants to be front and centre, making a difference, fighting for this world that we're trying to save. I probably have Valour to thank for that compulsion. Or maybe it's Alistair's influence.
I haven't let myself dwell on any of the possible futures that I know might unfold, because I just don't have room in my brain, what with the challenges yet to face in the more immediate future. But I'm starting to realise that sooner or later, I'm going to have to face it. In one way or another.
Probably a good idea to get this pesky Archdemon out of the way first though, eh?
The good thing is, my heart is starting to feel a little lighter with every mile that we put between ourselves and Denerim. I know we're going to have to go back, to face Howe and Loghain at some point, but for the moment, I need some distance from that place. I'll deal with it when I have to, and not a moment sooner. I'm pretty sure the crazy cultists, High Dragon, werewolves and Deep Roads will prove distraction enough in the meantime. Shag my arse, what has my life become? Adventuring? Not as fun as it looks in the movies.
I frowned down at the words in the half-light. Seeing it all written down like that made my head spin and my mouth go dry, and I heaved a sigh, tossing the journal back into my pack and dropping the tent-flap. I shifted around to lie on my back, closing my eyes and drifting into a light, uneasy sleep. When Alistair joined me some time later, still damp from his nightly dip in the river and shivering, I wrapped myself around him, sharing my warmth, and he clung to me until his shivering subsided. We settled into our usual night-time routine of kissing and touching and driving each other just a little crazy, before sleep claimed us both.
AN: Thank you to my beta, Kira Tamarion, for your invaluable feedback.
And thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. I'm glad you guys seemed to need a little bit of fluff just as much as I did!
This chapter was initially longer, but I felt like there was too much information crammed into the one chapter, so I've split it up. This chapter's more about character development, as a lot of it takes place in Lauren's head, and the next one's more of a situational thing...if that makes sense? Sure, it does. The next chapter's a bit of a shorter one, but there's going to be quite a bit happening over the next few so I've cut it off at what I feel is a reasonable point.
Let me know what you guys think, if you have any thoughts, questions or critiques. Or if you want to shake me and scream "Get back into the action, already!" All feedback is welcome and appreciated.