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DA fic: A Bedtime Story, part 3
03:38 Jul 29 2010
Times Read: 656

Continuing the story. Only one part left.











“Mamae?”



She was busy tucking him into his bed. “Yes sweetling?”



“Can you tell me the rest of the story now?”



“Hmmm. I suppose so. So long as you promise to go straight to sleep.”



He grinned up at her winsomely. “I promise!”



“Very well then.” And she climbed into his bed beside him, holding him close.



“Now where was I up to?” she mused.



“The Hero was captured. And then escaped! And then she was going to make King Alistair the king. That part was boring. Is this part more exciting mamae?”



She smiled. “I daresay it is.



“The very next morning, Solona set off with Leliana, Oghren and Shale to investigate the rumours of ill-doings in the Alienage. When they got there they discovered that there was supposedly a plague infecting the elves. But there was something strange happening with the plague sufferers – they were disappearing without a trace.”



“Was this a plague like the Dalish had mamae? With the werewolves?”



“That was a curse, not a plague, da’len. And no.



“After investigating, Solona discovered the truth – that Loghain had allowed Trevinter slavers into the Alienage, they had concocted the plague itself, and were stealing people off to sell into slavery.



“Well, they were all horrified by this, and killed the evil Trevinter mages behind it. They found Loghain’s authorisation of the deed and Solona took the papers to show as evidence. Then they returned to Arl Eamon with the proof.



“The Arl immediately declared the Landsmeet and ordered Alistair and Solona to attend. She took Leliana and Sten with her as support. When they arrived in the great hall, they were covered in blood. The nobles and the Bannorn all gasped and made way for them. Apparently they had had to fight Ser Cauthrien and Loghain’s guards in the antechamber. She had accused them of treason and worse and would not be reasoned with. Truth to tell, I believe Solona was, by this time, probably sick of being the voice of reason.



“Solona and the Arl presented their proof to the nobles. Loghain sneered and derided them, calling them fools. However Solona had endeared herself to the people of Ferelden, nobility and commoner alike, through her deeds. She pronounced his crimes to the Landsmeet. The Bannorn voted, and overwhelmingly chose to support Solona and the Arl by putting Alistair as the King. So Loghain invoked the right to a duel to settle the matter.



“Everyone expected that Solona would choose Sten or Alistair himself to duel Loghain, but she stepped forward and announces that she herself would be the champion. There was stunned silence before Loghain laughed and agreed.



“They faced off on the carpet, circling, looking for weaknesses. Then Loghain charged Solona, yelling battlecries. Solona never moved from her spot. With but a flick of her fingers, she enveloped him in a spell, holding him in place and crushing the life from him. She watched as he hung motionless in the air, head thrown back in a silent scream. She waited till that spell had expired, and just as he took another step towards her with his sword raised, she paralysed him. He glared at her helplessly as she fired bolts of arcane energy into him while he was held. Then the paralysis wore off, but before he could do more than breathe deeply, she froze him in place, and kept freezing him until he dropped to his knees, conceded defeat, and surrendered to her.



“Before she decide whether to execute him for his crimes, however, Queen Anora stepped in and begged for mercy. Then Riordan joined and said there was another option – to make him a Grey Warden.”



“Who’s Riordan, mamae?”



“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetling. I forgot to mention him. Riordan was another Grey Warden, from Orlais, who had come to Ferelden but was imprisoned and tortured by Arl Howe in his dungeons. Solona had freed him when she cleared it out.



“Anyway, Solona considered her options. On the one hand, Loghain was undoubtedly a bit insane. He had abandoned King Cailan on the battlefield, and he’d hunted down Grey Wardens and spread lies about them. He definitely deserved to be executed. On the other hand, he was a great general and fighter, and the Wardens needed all the help they could get.



“Solona made her decision: to make Loghain a Grey Warden.



“Alistair was furious. He argued with her, in front of all the nobles of the Landsmeet. Solona tried to explain, but he did not accept her reasoning. Finally he declared he would become king, if only to see justice was done.”



"Oh! Were you there, mamae?"



"Mmm hmm. All the servants were there. We had come over especially, and were watching from a side corridor. I saw it all."



He grabbed her by the upper arm, gauntleted fingers digging cruelly into her bare flesh. “I did NOT just hear you say that. You’re going to let him live? After all he’s done? Kill him already!”



She sighed. “Alistair, we need all the help we can get. Please.”



“Absolutely not! Not after what he’s done! I will NOT stand next to him as a brother. I won’t!” He tightened his grip on her arm, ignoring her wince.



“Alistair, we can’t afford to lose him.”



“Oh, but we could afford to lose the king?” The sarcasm dripped from his words like the taint itself. “Very well. I see I have to take matters into my own hands. I will be King, then. I demand justice!”



She looked up at him, surprised. “But… but I thought you were going to marry Anora?”



He dropped her arm as if it burned and turned his back on her. “And I thought you weren’t going to stab me in the back. Funny how nothing ever turns out like you thought.”



Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, stunned. Anora intervened. “Alistair, compose yourself!”



He snarled, but turned back to her. “Fine. You want Loghain in the Grey Wardens so badly? Then I’ll be leaving the Wardens to marry Anora.”



“You can’t just give up being a Grey Warden, Alistair.”



He sneered, upper lip curling as he glared down at her. “Watch me.”



“Well, after that, Anora made a speech, and the nobles applauded, and soon all of Ferelden was mobilised against the invading darkspawn army. Then they went back to the Arl’s estate to rest and prepare. Loghain went through the Joining ritual, and survived, and was made a Grey Warden. Solona, still hurt over Alistair’s words at the Landsmeet, went to meet him to talk about what had happened. But he rejected her, and she went back to her rooms.



“The next day the army, the Arl’s retinue, Anora, Solona and her companions set off back to the Arl’s keep at Redcliffe . They had set up their command there, as it was believed this was where the darkspawn would strike, being as the Blight was so close. The night before the battle, the whole castle was tense. Then they got word that the darkspawn were actually attacking Denerim, not Redcliffe. They had been outmaneuvered. Solona and Loghain ordered their troops to make a quick march to Denerim to fall on them from the rear. And so they marched off to do battle.



“But it is late, and we will save the final battle for another day, hmm?”



He smiled up at her sleepily. “Yes mamae.”



They snuggled into bed together and she stroked her son’s soft hair as he breathed deeply and evenly, and remembered that last night in the Arl’s estate.



She’d been in the library, hurriedly packing, when she heard their last argument.



Solona had come in and stood before Alistair as he stared, brooding, into the fire.



“Come to offer me congratulations, I suppose? Maybe you intend to throw me a party to celebrate my engagement?” Hurtful words, and oh, that sneer, in his voice and on his face.



“Please don’t be like this Alistair. I wanted to… make sure you were all right.” She sounded tired and defeated.



A grunt. “I’m fine.”



Solona cleared her throat, nervously. “I ah… wanted to talk about us.”



There was a stunned silence, then he had snorted derisively. “There isn’t any US. There’s me… and then there’s the woman who spared Duncan’s murderer.”



She risked looking up. Solona was standing rigid in front of Alistair, hands clasped tightly in front of her, and a vivid bruise on her arm. He had his arms folded and was looking at her with disgust and disdain as he loomed belligerently over her. She heard a small noise, and realised Solona was crying, and trying to stifle it.



Perhaps he relented, a bit, at her tears. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know why you did it, but you’ve tainted it for me. The man is a traitor and you gave him the greatest honour I can think of. There is no way to make that right. No way at all.”



He turned his back on her and walked to the other side of the room, closer to the door. She shrunk back, hoping to remain unnoticed, but not before she heard his mutter: “And I can never forgive you for it.”



There was a rustle of clothing as Solona stepped towards him, pleadingly. He turned back around and raised a hand, warding her off.



“But why should I complain, right?” he had said heartily. “I’m the king now, and I have a beautiful fiancé.”



He waved dismissively. “Well. Good luck I suppose. You have a lot to do now, and so do I.” And he strode out of the room.



She looked back at Solona, who was left standing bereft and with tears running down her face. She had looked over at her, crouched amidst her packing, and they had exchanged glances. Her face was pale and her shoulders slumped, with the marks of tears on her skin, but her eyes… her eyes were dead.



Solona had smiled, just one brief lifting of a corner of her mouth. “Remember this, when it’s over. Tell it to your children.”



And then she was gone, and that was the last time she ever saw the Hero.

DA fic: A Bedtime Story, part 2
09:54 Jul 22 2010
Times Read: 663

The continuing adventures of Solona, the Grey Warden.













A small hand tugged on her skirt.



“Mamae?”



“Yes, sweetling, what is it?”



“Can we finish the story now?”



She smiled. “And which story was that, sweetling? The one about the elves and the moon?”



“No.”



“The one about the dwarf who dug down too far?”



“No!”



“The one about the army of kittens?”



“No mamae! The one about the Grey Warden, that you started telling me before!”



“Ohhhh, that one. Well, I can certainly tell you more. Let’s go sit over there.”



Mother and son walked into the courtyard, sat under a shady tree, and curled up together.



“Now let’s see. What was the last thing you remember from the story?”



“Ummm… there was a big fight, and Solona was hurt. And that’s when the assassin joined the companions.”



“That’s right.



“Well, after Zevran had joined them, Solona and the companions continued on towards the mountains to try and recover the Sacred Ashes of Andraste. After much toiling, they eventually reached a small village. The villagers pointed the way further up the mountain to an ancient temple. It was here, they said, that the Ashes could be found. So they continued on up the mountain into the temple.



“The temple was frozen with the cold of the mountain, and inside it was overrun with dragonlings and drakes. Solona and her companions battled these foul creatures, collecting their scales as they went. Eventually they reached the peak of the mountain, much battered and bruised and a little bit burnt from dragon fire. There they discovered the mother of the dragonlings, a high dragon, who had taken up residence in the temple itself.



“The dragon swooped down on Solona and her companions, breathing blasts of fire and sweeping them off their feet with her wings and tail. The companions immediately surrounded the dragon and attacked it, hewing mightily into her side. Solona weakened the dragon and froze it, allowing her companions to deliver their blows. However the dragon was a fearsome foe. She caught Sten up in her terrible jaws and crushed the life from him. Then with mighty sweeps of her wings, she battered poor Leliana to the ground, where she lay motionless. Alistair charged the dragon, hoping to stun it, but it resisted. She blasted him with her fire and he fell before her, leaving only Solona to face.



“Solona was desperately afraid for her love. Swigging a potion of lyrium, she trapped the dragon in a crushing spirit spell and paralysed her. She hexed the dragon, disorienting her. Then she set about freezing her and draining small amounts of her life, to replenish her own health. The dragon was weakened, confused, trapped and failing, and eventually she shuddered and died, collapsing onto the ground.



“Solona rushed over to her fallen companions and healed them, holding Alistair close as she did so. She harvested the dragon’s scales and took all her treasure to fund their quest. Then the companions headed into the temple itself.



“Now, no one really knows what happened inside the temple, except that they all had to undergo a test of faith. It is said that they were all changed by this experience, in one way or another.”



“Changed how, mamae?”



She smiled. “An exciting fight with a dragon and you ask how people are changed by a religious experience? Well, da’len, I truly do not know. I did not know Solona before then to know how she had changed.”



The boy gasped. “You knew the Hero, mamae?!”



“Well, only a little bit. We were not friends.She was merely kind and gracious to me.”



A shadow approached from behind, and startled, she turned. Behind her stood the Grey Warden she had heard so much about. She winced, expecting belittlement, when instead she got a smile.



"Hello," said the fearsome Grey Warden kindly, "I haven't seen many elves around here."



She was tall and pale, with beautiful eyes. She looked tired, but strong. She carried her mage's staff on her back, and was completely unthreatening, yet still managed to radiate an aura of both power and something else, something indefinable, something both commanding and reassuring, which instantly drew her in. She understood, now, that it was that aura which had made the whole of Ferelden follow her.



He bounced up and down. “How exciting! What was she like? Was she 10 feet tall and breathed fire? Did sparks crackle when she walked into the room? Did she kill people with merely a look?!!!”



“No, sweetling. None of those things. She was a human, and a mage, and a Grey Warden, she had an impossible task that she worked very hard to achieve, and she loved and was loved in return. Although, not enough in return, I think.



“Now if I can continue?”



“Okay mamae.”



“So. The companions found the Ashes, and had their religious experiences, whatever they were, and took a pinch of the Ashes to use in curing old Arl Eamon. Then they set off on the long trek back to Redcliffe to administer the cure.



“On the way back they were beset by darkspawn, thieves, bandits, and troops of Loghain’s army which were out hunting them, but they defeated them all, and returned triumphant.



“There they restored the Arl to health, and gathered together to discuss what they must do. The Arl believed that they needed to expose Loghain’s treachery to the Landsmeet in order to support Alistair’s claim to the throne. So they all traveled to Denerim, and looked for information which could be used to help.



“They discovered that Queen Anora had been taken captive by Arl Howe. Her maid Erlina went to Solona and Arl Eamon and requested their help to release the Queen. Solona of course agreed to help, and along with Alistair, Leliana and Sten, snuck into the Arl’s palace using borrowed guard’s uniforms.



“They found many terrible things in the palace. Arl Howe had been capturing and torturing people. He had imprisoned many, nobles and commoners alike, and had left them in his dungeons to rot. Sickened, Solona fought the guards and killed them all. She freed all the prisoners and restored them to health. Then she faced Arl Howe and slew him for his misdeeds.



“Taking his key, she went to the Queen’s room and freed her. However, as they went to leave the palace, they were accosted by Loghain’s lieutenant, Ser Cauthrien, and a large number of his guards. When Solona refused to surrender to her, Ser Cauthrien ordered the guards to attack. Solona and her companions were overwhelmed by sheer force, and both she and Alistair fell and were captured. Her remaining companions gathered up the Queen and fled with her back to Arl Eamon’s estate, leaving them behind, as the Queen was too important to surrender.



“Now Solona never talked about her time in the dungeon of Fort Drakon but I believed it haunted her afterwards. She said afterwards that she had seen enough of dungeons as she ever wanted to. Though she had seen much bloodshed previously, she had not been subjected to the evils that men can do to each other before. I know mere mention of dungeons after that was enough to upset her.



“Suffice it to say, she and Alistair escaped through cunning and trickery, not force of arms. And no, I don’t know how they did it sweetling, so don’t ask.”



The boy pouted briefly.



“Anyway, they returned to Arl Eamon, and reported what had happened. Arl Eamon was greatly relieved to have them both back. They rested from their ordeals, Solona and Alistair comforting each other, and then headed back into the fray.



“After recuperating, Solona went to talk to the Arl and the Queen. They discussed what was happening to the city. The Queen mentioned issues with the elves in the Alienage, and Solona promised to investigate this.



“Then Solona, putting aside her personal feelings for the good of the country, suggested that in order to cement Alistair’s claim to the throne, he and Anora should marry.



“Well, no one was best pleased by this suggestion, least of all Solona herself. Alistair was her love, after all. And Alistair fairly worshipped the ground she walked upon. But though there were tears in her eyes, she was determined to do the best she could for Ferelden, even if it meant giving up her love."



“This bit’s boring mamae. Where’s the fighting?”



She ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry, there will be more than enough fighting soon.



“Alistair and Anora both agreed, after much discussion, to Solona’s suggestion. Alistair was king enough, even then, to understand the need for unity. But he was not at all happy with the arrangement, and he made sure to let Solona know how he felt.



“Despite her pain, Solona stayed resolute. She never once denied her love for Alistair. But he had started to doubt the depth of her love for him. They argued, and separated, both upset. Then they gathered together again in order to continue their investigations.”



She sighed and stopped talking, lost in memories.



The Hero, pacing, as she prepared to relinquish her love in the name of duty. The argument with Alistair over her arrangement of his political marriage to Anora.



"Why would you do that? What about us?"



"It's a political marriage, Alistair. It doesn't have to change anything."



"No? Alright. I'll accept that... for now. Just tell me why... don't you love me?"



A strangled sob.



"I love you Alistair. Just... consider it a compromise..."



"A compromise. Yes, I suppose the Landsmeet would like the sound of that."



"Can't you see... I'm doing what is best for Ferelden."



A sigh. "All right. You've convinced me. If it comes to that... I'll agree to marry her. Maker help us all. But you... you go and tell her. I need a drink. Or ten."



And then she was crying in her room, quiet, heartbreaking sobs of bereavement, as he walked out without a backward glance, nearly tripping as he stumbled over one small servant in the hallway.



Her pale face and red eyes the next morning. The way both she yearned after Alistair, begging for even a smile, and his stubborn, determined refusal. The way her face fell, and the wall of hurt and defensiveness that now separated them.



Eventually, the boy yawned. “Thank you mamae. Can I have more of the story soon?”



“Of course, sweetling,” she hugged him close and kissed his forehead. “Now be off and play.” And as he happily ran off, she stared into the sky, and surreptitiously wiped away a tear.

DA fic: A Bedtime Story, part 1
16:16 Jul 20 2010
Times Read: 666

The story of the Grey Warden Solona.



A fluffy (so far) retelling of true (sic) events.



Contains bad rhyming and unabashed Solona hero-worship, because I recently completed a playthrough with her and fell in love with her.

















“Mamae, mamae, mamae!” A small child bounded across the room and bounced into his mother’s lap. She reached down and hugged him closely. “What is it, sweetling?”



“Tell me a story mamae!”



She smiled. “A story is it? And what do you want a story of?”



“Fighting! And battles! And Grey Wardens!” the boy shrieked, and bounced up and down on her knees.



She laughed, a low rich chuckle. “Very well then, Grey Wardens it is. Now sit back and I’ll tell you the story of the Battle of Denerim, and how the Grey Wardens saved us.”



The boy snuggled obediently back into his mother’s arms and listened intently as she began.



“It was not so very long ago that the Grey Wardens saved us from the Blight. We had all heard about how things were happening, how the darkspawn had started to appear, but that was all down in the south so we didn’t pay much attention. Then, the old king Cailan took all the troops he could find, and they all went down to Ostagar. And there they had a terrible battle with the darkspawn. The king himself was killed. And the leader of the Grey Wardens died as well. But worst of all, they were betrayed.”



“Oooooohh,” said the boy appreciatively.



She hugged him and continued. “It was after this betrayal that we heard only two Grey Wardens had survived, both novices, one only newly created. We can’t imagine how they might have felt, knowing they were the last Wardens in the whole of Ferelden…”



“I know!” interrupted the boy.



“You do?”



“Yes! It’s like when Puppy died. I was very sad, and alone.” The corners of his mouth turned down in remembrance.



She kissed him on the forehead and closed her arms around him reassuringly. “Yes, sweetling, it was probably very much like that.



“Anyway, they were the last two Wardens left. But there was still a Blight to face. So they gathered up their courage and decided that they would get together as many people as they could to help them fight it.



‘Now do you remember who those last Wardens were?” she asked him.



“Yes! It was the Hero, and King Alistair!”



“Exactly right!” she congratulated him. “Now the hero’s name was Solona, and she was a mage.”



“Girls can’t be heroes,” grumbled the boy.



“Of course they can, silly. Now shush and listen.



“Solona joined the Wardens when she was barely out of her apprenticeship. All she had was her staff and her robes. But it was said even then that great things were expected of her. She was tall, and beautiful, with eyes of the deepest sky and deep brown hair. She could put a room to sleep with her magic, and make the strongest foe weak. And she had such a way with words! Charm the birds right out of the sky, she would.



“King Alistair wasn’t the king back then either. Back then, no one was the king. He was just a nobody, a failed Templar who’d been a Grey Warden for less than a year.



“Of course, what nobody knew was that he was also the bastard son of King Cailan’s father. Which meant that with King Cailan dead, he was eligible to take the throne.



“So, the last two Wardens in all of Ferelden started gathering up people to help them fight the blight. They visited the dwarves in underground Orzammar. It is said that Solona herself fought in the dwarves’ Proving fights to show she was worthy to ask for their aid. Then she persuaded their King to send them troops to help in the fighting. At first he hummed and hahed over it, and made her and Alistair complete all sorts of tasks for him, but eventually he agreed. So then they had the dwarves on their side.



‘Next, they visited the Dalish elves to ask for their help too. Back then, they used to live in the Brecilian Forest, and were wild and dangerous, and they were also cursed.”



The boy gasped. “Cursed?”



“Mmm hmm. They were cursed to become werewolves. No one knows how it happens, but apparently the Dalish can become werewolves. So you must make sure you never anger a Dalish!”



The boy nodded, wide eyed and apprehensive. She smiled and hugged him before continuing.



“Well of course the Dalish didn’t all like the idea of becoming werewolves, so they asked Solona for her help. And because she was good and kind, she agreed. She traveled throughout the forest with Alistair and their companions, looking for the cure for the Dalish. They had to fight bad spirit trees, and evil werewolves, and mad mages, but eventually they found it. And the Dalish were cured and promised to send their aid in the battle against the Blight as well.



“It was about this time that Solona had heard from her friends at the old Tower of Magi that there were problems there. Now despite being made a Grey Warden, Solona was still also a mage, and she remembered her training and hurried back to the Tower to help. What she found there was truly horrible. Demons had taken over some of the mages, and they had killed people inside the Tower. The Templars had shut the Tower up, with some surviving mages still inside.



“Well, Solona was horrified at this. She vowed to go in there and rescue them all by herself. And so she did. When the demons got too close, she would freeze them right where they stood. And then she would use her magic to drain the life from them. And if there were many all around her, she would stun them, so that she could back away, and kill them from a little distance. When she came across a particularly nasty demon, she would paralyse it, and then weaken it with hexes, and then use her magic staff to kill it. Oh, she was a magnificent mage!



“After many great battles with the demons, she eventually freed all the remaining mages. Tired and sweaty from her battles, she got the First Enchanter himself to pledge his support. He promised to send mages to help in the coming battle. And so, tired but happy, she left the Tower again and rejoined her companions.



“Now, do you remember her companions, sweetling?”



“Uh huh,” replied the boy. “There’s a rhyme.” And he chanted:

“Sten the magnificent, valorous and brave.

The bard Leliana, whose songs would save.

Morrigan the Witch, master of forms.

The golem Shale, who all birds scorned.

Dwarven Oghram, with mighty axe.

Assassin Zevram, whose quips would tax.

Niko the mabari, her faithful hound.

Bastard Alistair, with true love found.

Gentle Wynne, the healing mage.

The companions of the Dragon Age.”





“Yes, that’s right, well done!” said his mother.



“Now Solona and Alistair and their companions traveled all over Ferelden to get all the troops they could find. And along the way, they fell in love. This was probably only natural between two young people, so full of life, in close company with each other. Alistair was strong and charming, sweet and affectionate, and he looked at Solona and loved her. He gave her his rose, and she treasured it always. It is said that their love was the most pure and sweet, truest love you could ever find. All men were jealous of Alistair because of Solona’s bravery and beauty, and all women were jealous of Solona because Alistair’s handsomeness and chivalry. It is said that when they kissed, even the hardest of hearts heard the sweet lilting of music in the air, and would weep over the beauty of it.”



The boy grimaced and squirmed in her lap. “I didn’t ask for a kissing story, mamae!” he pouted. She laughed and continued.



“Very well then, demanding one.



“It was soon after Solona had rescued the Tower of Magi that Alistair got word that the old Arl of Redcliff was very ill. Alistair had been raised by the old Arl, before he was sent off to the Chantry to become a Templar, so he begged Solona to hurry there to see if they could help.



“When they arrived in Redcliff with their companions, they found the castle overrun by dead people! The town was under siege every night! The townsfolk were so relieved to see them, they put Solona in charge of protecting them. Solona organised the town and the remaining knights of Redcliff, and set up their defenses. She had the brilliant idea of putting barrels of oil on the main path, and setting them alight so that the corpses would get burnt when they came to attack. And it worked! When the corpses attacked that night, Solona, Alistair and the companions wiped them out. In the morning, the town celebrated, and Alistair, being so very worried about the Arl, asked Solona to investigate the castle.



“So they set off and found that there was a great demon there which had taken over the castle, poisoned the Arl, and was raising the dead to attack the village. The demon dragged Solona, Alistair and her companions into the Fade, to do battle with them there.



“But Solona was a mage, and was not afraid of being in the Fade. She had faced it before. So she hunted the wily demon down, defeated it in a duel, and then rescued each of her companions, and returned them to the waking world. And they were all very glad to be back!



“However, the Arl was still poisoned and could not recover. So his younger brother, Teagan, who is now the Arl himself, asked Solona to travel to the mountains to find the one thing that could save his brother: the Sacred Ashes of Andraste.



“It was at this time that Alistair confessed to Solona that he was in fact the bastard son of the old king, the brother of dead King Cailan, and the rightful claimant to the throne. Solona was upset that he had not trusted her with this information, but forgave him, because he was her love. It was also at this time that they discovered that they were being hunted.



“One day, while traveling to the mountains, they were waylaid by an ambush party. It was a very fierce fight. Solona was gravely wounded, and required all the healing magics that Wynne could give her. The only enemy survivor was an Antivan elf, who was also an assassin.



“The assassin begged Solona for mercy and explained that he had been hired by Teyrn Loghain, the father of Queen Anora, to kill the last remaining Grey Wardens. He vowed to Solona that he would serve her faithfully now, and Solona accepted him. But she remembered always that he was sent by Loghain, and was wary from thereon out."



She looked down and noticed her son’s eyes had drooped shut, smiled, and lifted him onto the bed.



“We’ll continue this another day, sweetling,” she murmured, kissing him on the forehead.

DA fic: Scarred
13:35 Jul 17 2010
Times Read: 670

Hooray for insomnia and sudden urges to write!



A short drabble out of nowhere, because it's cold here and my scars were aching.









It was cold on the path up the mountain. The Lady Elissa flexed her right hand, hissing silently as her joints complained, and removed her gauntlet to check. The scars were an angry purplish-red in the chill, cutting across her fingers and through a knuckle. She'd been lucky to keep her hand intact. She stared into the falling snow and remembered...



It was dark in the Deep Roads, and the air was oppressive with stone and fire. Rounding a corner they'd come across a large band of darkspawn. They'd set up an ambush and had been waiting for them. She'd felt no twinges of warning, no calling of taint to taint. They stepped into action as the horde had charged them. Oghran roared a battlecry and charged into the fray. She'd unlimbered her family sword and dagger and flanked Alistair who was rounding on the Alpha. Her mabari Rollo growed deeply as he tore out a genlock's throat, then leapt over the body, barreling down another. They'd been winning when, out of nowhere, a darkspawn axe had sheared through the pommel of her family sword, nearly severing her fingers... she remembered the twisted, evil face of the hurlock wielding it, dark glittering eyes avidly fastened upon her, feasting upon her shock and pain, sinister laughter echoing through the cave over the sounds of battle, and then drowned out as she had shrieked. It had stiffened, then, spraying blood into her face, and gurgled as it slid off the point of Alistair's sword, dying messily at her feet. Darkspawn blood had sprayed inside her mouth, and she swallowed absently between screams, feeling its dark burn as it trickled down her throat and joined the taint churning in her belly. She clutched her wounded hand to her chest and looked at mangled flesh and exposed bone in horror...



Alistair was no healer, and Wynne had not yet joined them, so they had patched it up the best they could with an injury kit, applied some healing poultices, and had gone on their way.



Some weeks later, after Wynne had been liberated from the Tower, Elissa had approached her to ask for healing, to no avail. It was too late, Wynne had told her, and had given her an ointment to minimise the scarring. Elissa had never used it, just tossed it into her pack; where it drifted to the bottom amidst the other odds and ends she had picked up along their journey.



Elissa made a fist, wincing as the scars pulled tight and the knuckle protested, and brought it to her lips, hoping her breath would warm and loosen it. Some Lady I am, she thought scornfully, scarred and horrible... if mother could only see me now...



As always, the thought brought pain, more distant and yet more wrenching than the pain of her scars. She stopped briefly, checking the path, allowing herself time for the ache in her chest to settle, letting Morrigan and Rollo clamber past her and continue up the trail. She heard steps behind her and half turned as Alistair paused. His warm hand covered her cold one as he brought her scarred knuckle to his lips and kissed it, honeyed eyes meeting hers as the tip of his tongue flicked out and caressed her skin ever so briefly. She felt her insides contract as he smiled at her.



"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful."



He winked and they continued up the path, her scars, and her hand, remaining tucked inside his.

DA:O Drabble
19:25 Jul 15 2010
Times Read: 673

Another DA drabble. This one is based on a song from the soundtrack - Tavern Brawl.















As he came down the stairs he heard her delighted laughter, and smiled to himself. Then he saw her… and he stopped. She was in the arms of a burly farmer type, and he was twirling her around the crowded room, hands firmly planted on her waist, lifting her high above the floor. Tavern patrons dodged good naturedly as the musicians played. As she was swung around, she threw her head back and laughed in sheer joy. Alistair paused to preserve the moment in his memories. She was wearing a dress! Its shining blue skirt flared around her, revealing the strong line of her thigh, and the deep blue embroidery on the bodice exactly matched the sapphire of her half-lidded eyes. Her smooth white neck was revealed and he had a sudden urge to trail his fingers down it. He had never seen her so happy and carefree. He blinked back a quick tear and swallowed. Striding down the stairs, he tapped on the shoulder of her partner and moved in to claim his love, his heart swelling as she held her arms out and smiled that special smile, only for him.

DA:O Drabble
03:49 Jul 06 2010
Times Read: 691

Inspired by Depeche Mode's "It's no good".









He brooded. Sitting at the head of the room, he watched her. She barely picked at her food. She, who had eaten like a starveling drake while on the road. She didn’t talk, didn’t laugh. Nobles and servants alike vied for her attention. She ignored them. As unlike herself as could be. Unwilling, sympathy edged up within him. He tried to ruthlessly squash it back down again. It was her choice, her decision. Snarling to himself, he turned his head to watch the room. He caught a glimpse of his new wife, and unbidden comparisons arose. Her insipid blondness compared to her dark beauty. Her scheming compared to her natural command. Her court-born charms compared to her battlefield grace. Bile rose and he swallowed against it.



It was her idea. It was the sensible solution. He was following her orders, as he had since they'd met. But oh, how he wanted her. Wanted her to want him.



She was leaving tomorrow. He knew it had to be. Maker please, she’d be back.







Maker? Please?

Fic DA:O - In Firelight
10:57 Jul 01 2010
Times Read: 704

Did I mention writing Alistair fan fic? Well here tis...



Please note written during night shift last night when I was a bit delerious, apologies for redundancies and ramblings.





In Firelight





As the last pure chords of Leliana's clear voice faded away into the night, Elissa came to herself with a small start. So beautiful, she thought to herself. She watched Leliana withdraw, respecting her need for privacy, and went to join Alistair sitting outside her tent.



As she approached, she was amused to discover him furtively fumbling a few stray tears from his cheeks. She deliberately made no comment, but seated herself beside him, taking his free hand. Alistair gripped it tightly in return, drawing her into him and stroking her arm absently with his other hand, his still-wet fingertips leaving damp little trails on her skin.



Elissa shivered as his warm, calloused fingers touched her, instantly aroused. Dammit, she thought, and hoped he didn't notice. But of course, he did.



“Cold, my love?” Alistair queried.



Elissa grinned to herself. As perceptive as always.



“Not when I'm with you,” she replied. Glancing sideways she spotted an errant tear on his cheekbone, sparkling in the firelight like a jewel. Leaning in closer, she captured it on a finger and held it up to examine. She felt Alistair stiffen slightly beside her – what was it with men and crying anyway? - and deliberately held it up for him to inspect.



Alistair looked at the tear shimmering, resplendent on Elissa's slim finger, and swallowed. “Ah yes. Ahem. Ah. Smoke. Fire. Eye.” He stuttered into incoherency and gestured randomly, and cleared his throat, embarrassed.



Elissa merely grinned mischievously up at him, quirking an eyebrow in that way he loved so much. “That's alright, love,” she said in her slightly husky voice. “...Fires are like that. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”



She leaned in closer. “Actually I find it very endearing, you know.”



Alistair blinked. “You do?”



“Oh yes,” Elisa responded. “A man who isn't afraid to admit that... fire... affects him like that is very attractive.”



“Really?” Alistair squeaked, then cursed to himself and cleared his throat ostentatiously. “I mean, really?” in a much deeper, and he hoped much more suggestive voice.



Elissa only grinned back at him, her deep blue eyes reflecting the firelight and making her look devilish – and delicious.



“Really,” she replied.



Still looking him in the eye, she brought the finger with the captured tear up to her lips and slowly licked it off, savouring the salty taste on her tongue. She swallowed and quirked that eyebrow at him again.



Alistair had the distinct impression he was about to faint. The firelight, the tear, her tongue, that damn sexy eyebrow... he heard a roaring in his ears and was appalled to find himself staring at Elissa, mouth agape and dry, panting hoarsely. Appalled, he struggled to apply the techniques the Templars had taught him. Maker, how am I ever going to survive around her? he thought desperately. He wanted to grab her and ravish her right here in front of the fire and the rest of the camp be damned. Well, maybe not in front of everyone. He winced imagining Morrigan's acid comments about performance. Or, Maker forbid, Zevran's handy hints and tips on how to pleasure a woman. Or a man. He still couldn't believe some of the things Zevran had told him. The man had no shame! Like that time with the three whores and the honey and feathers... or the princess and the torture devices... or the strong, strapping farm boy, for Maker's sake, and the things he did with his...



Elissa watched the interplay of emotion on Alistair's face laughing to herself. She leaned in again.



“Copper for your thoughts, Alistair,” she murmured into his ear, and laughed out loud when he jumped. She laid a cool hand on his furiously burning face. “Why Alistair,” she mocked, teasingly, “I do declare you're blushing. What ever where you thinking of?”



She laughed again as Alistair blushed even harder. “Must be good,” she commented. “Or... bad?” She quirked her eyebrow at him again.



Alistair moved suddenly, grasping her by the shoulders and growling faintly. Elissa could just make out the occasional word - “Maker”, “damn eyebrow”, “feathers” - before his mouth descended onto hers and she was consumed by him, his desire and need washing over her and pulling her into him, spiraling them down into something deep and primal. She shuddered as his teeth raked her lips and his hands moved over her possessively. She snaked her arms around his back and traced the contours of his muscles as he moved his hips urgently and demandingly against her.



It was only when she realised that he was pushing her insistently onto her back before the fire that she recovered somewhat from the trance she was in. She pulled herself back slightly and protested inarticulately as his fingers worked busily at the buckles of her leathers, but he ruthlessly claimed her mouth again and continued.



Over the rush of blood in her ears and Alistair's hoarse breaths she dimly heard Morrigan's voice, dripping with spite.



“Oh by all means please continue. I'll just be over here trying to refrain from being ill. Don't mind me.”



She heard Zev's accented chuckle in the background, just as Alistair withdrew suddenly, leaving her dishevelled and bereft.



Breathing heavily, Elissa patted hair back, gathered her composure, and was about to say something when Alistair got hurriedly to his feet and stumbled off into the dark. She swore under her breath, flung a withering look at Morrigan who was sneering on the other side of the fire, gathered up her sword and followed after him.



Alistair stumbled off through the dark, night blind in the absence of the fire and the heat of Elissa's presence, cursing imaginatively at himself. He tripped over a particularly vicious root lying in ambush and stumbled, sinking to his knees and huddling in place. He stayed there, feeling worthless and ashamed, dismayed to feel tears rising but not really making any effort to stop them.



Elissa found him there like that, crouched defensively into himself like a wounded puppy, swearing and crying. Her heart turned over and her eyes teared in sympathy. Dropping to her knees, she put her arms around him and cuddled him. “Alistair? Alistair, are you hurt?”



"No," came the thick reply from a downturned face, "at least, only my pride and dignity and reputation..."



“Oh love.” Elissa gathered him closer. “It's alright, truly it is. They don't mean anything by it. Well,” she considered, “Morrigan might, but then she's a heartless shrew. The others don't. Truly. Zev's just a, uh, well Zev's... Zev.” She trailed off and blushed, hoping desperately Alistair wouldn't see. Now was NOT the time to be thinking of Zev being Zev.



Alistair sniffed, pathetically. Elissa winced. He sounded hurt and lost and scared.



“I know,” he said. “It's just... with everything... the Blight, everyone dying... Loghain... the crown... I'm scared. I'm bloody terrified, actually. I just feel so... alone. So helpless... powerless...”



“Oh Alistair. Love. You're not alone. I'm here. I'm with you. I will always be with you. I love you. You do know that, right?”



Alistair nodded. “I know. It just doesn't seem real. I mean... you. And me. I feel like I'm in a dream, the one where you give a speech only to find out you're not wearing any pants, and everyone is sniggering at you.”



Elissa chuckled. “Alistair my love, trust me. They're not sniggering at you. I think I'm qualified enough to know that by now.” She arched an eyebrow and glanced significantly down.



Alistair laughed in spite of himself, a short, loud burst that startled as much as it relieved him. “A hah! Yes. Well. Qualified is good. Yes?”



Elissa laughed. “Yes. Qualified is very good. In fact,” she leaned in and looked at him very seriously, “I really think I need to be more qualified. Don't you?”



He grinned that familiar, albeit slightly wobbly, grin at her. “Oh yes. Most definitely.” He stood up and bowed to her, directing her back to camp. “After you, my lady Elissa. Oh, and do watch out for that root. Reached out and grabbed me deliberately it did.”



Elissa laughed again. “Maybe we should introduce Morrigan to it. They can be nasty together then.”



Alistair snorted. “I do NOT want to think about Morrigan and roots, thank you very much. Maker only knows what evil things she'd do to it. It'd be corrupted for life. Twisted. Unclean.”



Elissa laughed harder. “Careful, she might hear you.” Alistair looked around in mock terror before gathering Elissa into his arms and hugging her tight. “Ah, my love,” he breathed into her ear, “whatever would I do without you?”



Elissa snickered wickedly. “Starve to death for lack of cheese, most likely.”



He looked hurt. “Hey, that's a fate worse than death, you know. Lack of cheese. I'm sure that's a crime.”



“What is a crime,” Elissa declared, “is my lack of continued qualifications.”



“Oh really?” smirked Alistair. “Well, in that case...”



He scooped her up into his arms and set off back to the dimly glowing firelight of the camp, at a (careful) trot. Elissa smiled and snuggled into him, looking up into his face as they came back into the light, marvelling over the beauty of his face and his spirit.



Alistair deposited her carefully in front of her tent and stood waiting in front of it. Elissa untied the closures and stepped inside, then turned around. Bathed in the glow of the fire, its light reflecting in her eyes, she drew him into the tent, to her; closing them off from the rest of the world, and sealing them to each other.