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fenharelsfang · 16 days ago

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The Wolf's Heart (4/5)

Previously: The Wolf's Heart (3/5)

“This was a terrible idea!” Ellana shouted against the din of the wind gusting past them. Tears streamed from her eyes, even as she squinted to protect them.

Riding a dragon was absolutely not like riding a hart or halla. It wasn't even comparable to Tevinter's dracolisks, or nuggalopes. The closest would be a griffon, but no one had ridden one in hundreds of years. There was no saddle for the trio to sit on (and, honestly, Morrigan would have never allowed it anyway), so they positioned themselves in the valleys between the ridges of her scales and gripped onto anything solid that they could.

Felassan sat in the front, of course, whooping and hollering as soon as Morrigan took to the sky. Ellana sat in the middle and Cole sat just behind her. He held onto her tightly in fear, his face buried in her back. His hat had been lost immediately.

“She wants to eat us,” he cried. She has to remind herself that we're friends!”

“Cole, please!”

His insight wasn't making the experience any better.

Up they climbed, Morrigan's wings beating loudly against the sky and in their ears. The closer they flew to the Archon's palace, the worse the situation inside it looked. The walls and ceiling of the building had already crumbled away, the void that was Solas growing with each passing moment. Morrigan diverted her course past it, flying to the far side opposite the throne room.

Landing was about as comfortable as flying. The jolt of it threw Ellana against the ridge she was gripping and knocked the air from her lungs. No doubt she'd be bruised from all the recent trauma to her chest. When Morrigan settled, Ellana reached back to pat a trembling Cole's arm.

“It's okay, we've landed,” she assured him.

Cole peeked an eye open and sweet relief flooded through Ellana when he released his death grip on her. “... I did not like that.”

“That was incredible!” Felassan shouted, beaming back at them. His grin faltered at seeing the state they were in. He flew up with his hair tied, but the two blondes didn't. They looked like wild animals. Sickly wild animals.

Morrigan shifted underneath them and growled in annoyance. Clearly she wanted them off of her.

Felassan deftly hopped from ridge to ridge until he landed with a feline grace on the ground. Cole could just disappear and reappear wherever he wanted (and he did, Ellana noticed). She, however, gingerly tried to climb down using her hands and feet, only to slip and fall right into Felassan's arms.

“Careful, lethallan ,” he said. “You seem to have a bad habit of falling.”

“I could make a career out of it, really,” she muttered and blew a strand of hair out of her face. Memories of the times she fell out of the Fade, into the Fade, and off the rookery in Skyhold's tower made her cringe. That last instance hadn't been fun for anyone, especially Solas.

Felassan set her down and she ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. Morrigan shifted back to her human form and dusted herself off. “Oh, if Alistair could see me now,” she mused, smiling to herself. Becoming a dragon brought swooping to a whole new level.

“Thank you for not eating us,” Cole said, interrupting her reverie.

Morrigan smirked at him. “That's still undecided.”

Ellana lightly smacked her arm before fixing Cole's hair with the tenderness of a mother. “Don't listen to her. I won't let her eat you.”

“Inquisitor?”

The four of them turned to see Rook and the Veilguard emerging from behind some rubble. The Crow was pale, which said a lot for someone with bronze skin. He was shocked, they all were, since the last they saw of her she was falling to her death.

“How are you alive?” he asked.

Felassan held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “ Magic .”

Rook's nostrils flared. “Wh– Felassan? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

“I got better.”

“Please ignore him,” Ellana said, pushing the elf out of the conversation. Felassan snickered behind her. “What's the situation up here?”

“We're fucked, that's what,” Taash said. “That big … ball of … whatever is destroying everything.”

“Plus, we still haven't taken down Elgarn'nan or his archdemon,” Bellara added. “They've been attacking that magical anomaly nonstop, but can't break through.”

“It. Smells. Wrong,” Spite hissed, his glowing pink eyes darting around as if he expected to be snatched up at any moment. ”It wants me to join, but I won’t!”

“That anomaly is Solas,” Ellana clarified.

Emmrich, who looked haggard and struggled to stand, nodded. “I figured as much,” he said, his voice strained. “Those are all spirits, each of them reflecting Solas's emotions, twisted into Despair. It's… too much.”

Manfred was holding Emmrich aloft and hissed sadly. He felt it, too.

So did Cole, who tried to drown out the noise by planting his palms against his ears.

“We have to stop this,” Davrin said. “I didn't think anything could be worse than the Blight, but this is.” His hand went to Assan's head, stroking it gently. The griffon cooed. “I didn't fight so hard for a future for the griffons only to have it taken away from them by our so-called gods.”

“What the hell happened?” Rook asked, his brown eyes searching Ellana's.

“It's my fault,” she admitted. “I got distracted and underestimated Elgar’nan. Solas thinks I'm dead and he's….struggling.”

“Okayyyy,” Taash said, “then go tell him you're alive so he'll calm down,” They shrugged.

“It's not that easy,” Neve argued. “He's been possessed, and not just by one demon, by hundreds … thousands! That would break anyone's mind.” Her gaze drifted downward, unwilling to look Ellana in the eyes. “I hate to say it, but we have no other option but to destroy him. It’s the only way to set him free.”

Ellana's eyes widened. As she looked around at the other Veilguard members, she could see that they were resigned to the same option. Why was it that, in times of great hardship, leaders immediately resorted to using peace as a justification for violence? Killing the host wasn’t the only way to combat a demon. She wondered what the team thought of Spite, then, and what both Lucanis and Spite thought about this decision. When the demon spoke earlier, no one seemed bothered by it, like Spite was just … part of the crew.

“I hate to throw a wrench in the plan,” Bellara interrupted, “but if Elgar’nan can't breach it, what makes you think we can?”

“We have his dagger,” Rook said, pulling it from its sheath. He ran his fingers along the flat part of the blade. “I can use it to carve a way in.” He looked at Ellana with true sympathy in his eyes. “I can make it quick, I promise.”

Felassan and Cole took up defensive positions. They came to save Solas, not kill him. If that meant they’d have to fight the Veilguard to protect him, then they would. Rook was baffled that Solas could command such loyalty from the people he wronged. He didn’t know the blonde boy, but he was probably also a victim of Solas’s treachery. Morrigan stood off to the side, strangely quiet during the entire exchange.

Ellana held up a hand to calm her friends. “You’re right, Rook,” she began as she stepped up to him. “This isn’t a fairytale. But love … isn’t a fantasy. It’s real . Like magic, it has both the power to heal and the power to harm, depending on the wielder. Long before me, Solas loved Mythal. Maybe she loved him, too, but it was toxic. She loved him the way nobles love their servants: for their usefulness. It may have started out innocently, back when they met in the Fade as spirits. In the end, though, it always came down to what he could do for her . Harding showed me those memories. From what you saw in those murals and what Mythal said to you herself when you met her, can’t you see the power imbalance? He gave up his home for her and changed everything about himself just to be with her. What did she ever do for him? There were multiple times that he tried to set boundaries, bringing up how certain requests from her made him uncomfortable, that what she was asking of him felt wrong. She didn’t listen. Instead, she used his love for her to control him. That was his life, Rook, until she finally crossed a line that he wouldn’t. Then she had the audacity to blame him for their fallout. You don’t treat someone you love that way. You don’t make them change to suit your needs, you embrace who they are and work to grow together. You don’t coerce them to do something they don’t want to do, you respect their boundaries. Mythal turned her love into a whetstone to sharpen Solas into a weapon. The Dread Wolf is cunning and treacherous and prideful. All of that is true, but they were learned behaviors from someone he deeply revered. No one ever showed him a different way.” Ellana hadn’t realized how much she was shaking. It hurt when she watched those memories. He had been such a gentle, sweet spirit until Mythal twisted him against his nature. His reaction to when his spirit of Wisdom friend was summoned against its will made so much sense in retrospect.

“Until he met you,” Rook said, continuing her thought.

She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled sadly at him. “He seemed so sad and lonely when I first met him. He kept to himself and said little when I tried to engage in conversation with him. It wasn’t until I asked about his experience with the Fade that he truly came alive. After that, I found any excuse I could to listen to his stories. We grew closer the more time we spent together and, through it all, he only ever treated me as an equal. As the ‘Herald of Andraste’ and the Inquisitor, I was a symbol to those around me, not a person, even to my inner circle. My role as leader set me apart from everyone. Looking back on that time, knowing what I know now, I realize he saw himself in me. He never asked to be a leader, either, but his people would be lost without him. ‘Solas’ was lost to the Dread Wolf. He didn’t want me to feel that pain. I was always Ellana to him and, later, vhenan .” She sighed. “He’s a wonderful person. I wish you could have known him when he was in the Inquisition. That’s the closest he was to his true self. You two would’ve been friends, I think.”

She took Rook's free hand in both of hers. “I love him, Rook, like I’ve never loved anyone before. Everyone keeps saying that he needs me, that I made him better, but the truth is I'm the one who needs him. I need him like I need air. He came into my life and changed everything I knew about the world, myself, and love. We are meant to be together. Beyond that, he deserves happiness. He deserves to know that he's worthy of being loved and that it's not too late to choose a different path. He deserves freedom. I deserve it, too, and only he can give it to me.”

She glanced at the dagger in his free hand. “So kill that archdemon and take out Elgar’nan. I’ll take care of Solas. And I promise, if I can’t get through to him, then I will end him myself.”

And I will follow wherever he goes.

Rook could see the conviction in her words and, though he still didn’t think Solas could change, the Inquisitor did deserve the chance to try. It was her happiness on the line, too. He couldn’t deny her that.

“... Alright,” he said, defeated. “I wish you luck.”

Ellana’s heart lightened and she let out a sob. “Thank you.”

He nodded and turned to his own crew. “We’ll need to split up,” he said. “Taash, you, Bellara, Emmrich and Davrin take the archdemon down. Lucanis, Neve, and I will keep Elgar’nan busy while you do so. With our combined efforts, we should be able t- hey!”

The lyrium dagger was suddenly snatched from his hand. Manfred’s pack vibrated at the same time before the idol of Mythal flew out. Morrigan grabbed them both from the air. Only, she wasn’t Morrigan anymore. The woman standing before them was an elf with long, dark hair, white mage robes, and a silverite crown. She was tall and breathtaking, staring down at them with an air of superiority. They all knew her face, in one way or another. Felassan knew her personally. He still bore her vallaslin .

“Mythal,” he breathed.

Ellana felt her chest tighten. Once upon a time, she wore the goddess’s markings, too. She worshipped her. Now her feelings were conflicted. Mythal wasn’t a perfect being and she was the source of all of Solas’s pain. The disappointment she felt was staggering.

“What have you done with Morrigan?” she asked, magic gathering around her ironbark gauntlet.

“Peace, da’len,” Mythal said. The lyrium idol of her had melded into her, giving her a solid form. Rook spotted the dagger, muscles tensing. “I will return her when I am finished.”

“Finished? Doing what?”

“I WILL HAVE MY RECKONING!” Her voice resounded across the heavens, bringing everyone to their knees. The vehemence in that statement was an ancient cry for vengeance against a terrible betrayal that left a goddess a shell of her former greatness. The mortals before her shuddered under the sheer force of it. Mythal stood in the center of them all, clutching the dagger as her eyes burned white with ire. “I have clawed and crawled my way through the ages to get me to this very moment! Over the centuries I have systematically destroyed every member of the Evanuris, guiding history in the path I desired.” “What are you saying?” Davrin asked through gritted teeth. “That you let the Blight out?”

“No, that was a failure on Solas’s part to destroy the Evanuris’ pets. It did present me with an opportunity, however. The First Blight had already begun when I bound myself to my first vessel. I did not have the power to physically enter the Fade to cut down those traitors and I was too weak to fight their archdemons on my own, but I had intimate knowledge about the Blight. The world needed a way to combat it and I needed the archdemon they called Dumat dead. So, I gave the mortals the means to defeat it.”

“The Joining.”

“Yes. I was the famed Nakiri of the Donarks who suggested drinking the blood of darkspawn to absorb their power and build immunity to their taint. The Order of the Grey Wardens was established and they turned the tide of the war. Dumat fell and my retribution began.”

Davrin’s brows furrowed. “Didn’t the Grey Wardens need the blood of the archdemon to defeat it?”

Mythal chuckled. “It was easy enough to stage a battle against the archdemon, if only to collect drops of its blood. Many Wardens fell in that battle. Through their sacrifice, came victory. The Blight itself was not destroyed, but the world had what it needed to survive.”

She began to walk through the crowd before her, their rapt attention fueling her ever forward. “Ages passed and I bided my time, passing from vessel to vessel, my power growing. Empires rose and fell, as did the archdemons. There were times history required a nudge. The First Blight had lasted far too long. So, during the Second, I introduced the Grey Wardens to the griffons. They weren’t utilized to their full potential until the Third Blight. It took time for the bond between griffon and rider to form, you see. Each subsequent Blight lasted a mere fraction of the one before it. The Fifth Blight lasted a mere year after I rescued the Hero of Ferelden from Loghain’s betrayal. Of course, June was always the weakest of us, so it’s no surprise to me that his archdemon fell so easily.”

All anyone could do was stare at her as she revealed the secrets of the past, mouths agape. She paused in front of Ellana who now stood up in defiance against her. Mythal smiled.

“There were only two members of the Evanuris remaining, among them Elgar’nan who ran me through with this very dagger. My retribution was nearly complete, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the centuries to pass and those mindless darkspawn to find their master. That, and I could sense the Veil weakening and with it, that prison. As powerful as I was, I was still no match for Elgar’nan’s strength. So, in secret, I woke Solas from his uthenara . I am the reason your paths crossed.” “And so you used him again,” Ellana whispered.

“He made his own choices,” Mythal argued. “Blame me if you must, but I never forced him to make the choices he did and I certainly had no sway on him when he awoke from his slumber. We are both at fault for the state of the world and while I spent what remained of my life trying to make up for our mistakes and save the world, he was sleeping. I knew he’d need to deal with the remaining Evanuris, but I didn’t know he would wish to tear down the Veil. This world is flawed, but it deserves to live. Over the years I have grown to love it and its people. Elvhenan, the Evanuris, it is better that it all fade from memory.” She gripped the dagger. “The fate of this world is not mine to decide any longer. Do what you will with Solas. I have arrived at my moment and I will have the final word. Elgar’nan dies by my hand.”

Ellana and Rook exchanged glances as Mythal strode past them, heading towards the throne room.

“Your gods exhaust me,” he remarked when she was out of earshot.

“... Noted,” Ellana said. “Do you think you guys can handle the archdemon?”

“Oh yeah,” Taash said, cracking their knuckles. “We’ve already taken down a bunch of dragons, this one is just a little bigger.”

“Little is an understatement,” Bellara said. “But, yes, we can do it!”

Ellana smiled at her and turned to her friends. “Felassan, Cole, I think you should go with Mythal. She said it herself that she’s not strong enough to defeat Elgar’nan on her own and, right now, he’s invincible. Protect her.”

Felassan nodded. “We will.” She pulled him and Cole into a tight hug. “Stay safe,” she said. “This is almost over.”

They hugged her in return and when Felassan spoke next his voice was thick with emotion. “Bring him back to us.”

“I will.”

As the two groups headed back towards the throne room, Ellana held Rook back.

“Take some advice from a foolish woman who stands on the precipice of losing the one she loves most in this world,” she said, squeezing his hand. “ Tell her. You will forever regret it if you don’t.”

Rook’s eyes widened. “Wh-What? Tell who what?”

Ellana let out a breathless laugh, her eyes filled with tears. “You don’t think I noticed the stolen glances her way when I was spilling my heart out about Solas? You love her, and you need to tell her before it’s too late. Banal nadas. Ar lath, ma vhenan .”

“What does that mean?”

She smiled. “She’ll know what they mean. Tell her.”

A pat on his arm and she left with the others.

Rook stood there, his cheeks flushed, his heart fluttering. He spotted her across the way, talking to Neve.

“Bellara.” He spoke her name like a prayer. She turned, her warm brown eyes brightening at the sound of his voice and she skipped over to him.

“What is it, Rook?”

“There’s something I need to tell you and I’m … I’m sorry it's taken so long for me to get it out. I was afraid, but I’m not anymore.” He leaned in to whisper the words into her ear. When he drew back, she cupped his face in her hands, her eyes filled with happy tears.

“ Mala lath athim, mir uthenara.”

They kissed and Rook finally understood Ellana’s words. So many things were uncertain in this crazy, dangerous world, but there was one constant that always stood against the test of time.

Love.

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tired-truffle · 7 months ago

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Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.3k

Part 11/50

"Ignore every instinct to flee. Remember: you are a monster too." - Destiny

Masterlist

“Ta-da!” With a dramatic flourish of his wrist, Darcy unfurled the rolled-up scroll and placed it on the breakfast table. Gwen had been so caught up staring at the spread before her, not quite believing her eyes that she hadn’t noticed Darcy’s arrival. The long oak table was draped in a fine white linen cloth, upon which sat platter after platter of sumptuous breakfast foods. At one end was a huge wheel of creamy cheese, its rind dotted with herbs. Beside it sat a basket of still-warm bread, the crusty loaf steaming gently in the cool morning air. Bowls of plump berries in shades of crimson, purple and blue beckoned invitingly, their sweet perfume wafting towards Gwen's nose. Slices of juicy ham, pink and glistening, were piled high on a bronze platter next to a stack of buttery croissants. In the center sat a vase bursting with bright wildflowers, their colourful petals still dusted with early morning dew.

The group fell silent, all eyes turning to Darcy as he stood at the head of the table a self-satisfied tilt to his chin, “Don’t hold back the compliments people! You’re welcome for gracing you with my brilliant forethought, planning, and use of personal connections.”

“Maybe if you explain what you’re talking about first, our lesser minds may be able to come up with adequate compliments for this spectacular feat of yours,” Alistair drawled, placing a croissant on his plate - having just sat down and the last member of their party to arrive - he had just joined the rest of their party at the breakfast table, still looking a bit dishevelled from sleep. His tawny hair was tousled and his gambeson was on inside out, adding to his charmingly rumpled appearance. As he settled into his seat a few places down from Gwen, she couldn't help but stifle a laugh. Across from her, Zevran and Leliana exchanged knowing glances and quickly placed bets on how long it would take Alistair to notice

“I’m so glad you asked, my good friend Alistair, I would love nothing more than to explain how amazing I am.” Darcy leaned in close to Zevran, his eyes sparkling with mischief. He playfully winked and fluttered his long eyelashes at the rogue.

Morrigan groaned, her initial pleasure at avoiding Alistair’s presence this morning disappearing under the haze of Darcy’s flirtations, “Cease this childish display and proceed, would you? Lest this idle chatter lull me back to sleep and we delay our exit from this place even further.”

“Alright, alright,” Darcy attempted to appease the witch, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Morrigan’s jaw clenched with a sharp clack of her teeth and she muttered, “My knickers are none of your concern.”

Gwen breathed a silent sigh of relief as Darcy refrained from provoking Morrigan any further. Instead, he carefully untied the twine that bound the ancient-looking scroll and laid it gently on the table. The parchment was yellowed with age, and intricate map lines traced its surface, depicting the corner of Ferelden where they currently resided. However, anything past that knowledge was beyond Gwen. There were words written in an elegant, looping script on the lower left corner of the map, different from the other titles spread around the page, but given that Gwen was unable to read any language at all she couldn’t discern their meaning. She could guess - her travels had given her knowledge of the names of the surrounding locations - but the letters had never made much sense to her. Keeping her expression neutral was second nature to Gwen, a defence mechanism honed over years to keep others from knowing what lurked beneath the mask. It wasn't that she was ashamed; illiteracy was common among common folk. But revealing this vulnerability could only bring trouble, so she kept it to herself.

The gentle chirping of crickets filled the room, their rhythmic song blending with the soft rustling of leaves and distant birdcalls. The cool breeze that flowed through the open window carried with it the smell of damp earth and floral notes, a refreshing respite from the stuffy air inside the small room.

“Where on Thedas did you get this?” Leliana asked, glee coursing through her as she stood, palms pressed flat on the table to allow her a better view of the map.

“Brother Genetivi’s house in Denerim,” Darcy said as though that answered anything.

“I think the next logical question would be how, then proceeding that, how did you know to look there?” Alistair had straightened, his breakfast all but forgotten in favour of staring in wonder at Darcy.

“Sir Henric’s note. Remember that Templar we found killed on the road? He mentioned that Brother Genetivi, a scholar in Denerim, knew of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It is located in Haven.” Darcy pointed at the spot on the map with the elegant script with one hand and produced said note out of his pocket with the other, passing it to Alistair who read over the note in bewilderment.

“How did I miss this?” Alistair mumbled to himself.

Darcy took it upon himself to answer, “You didn’t miss anything, I kept the note from you in case it was a dead-end, I didn’t want you to get your hopes up.”

Alistair's lips pressed together in a tight line, his expression revealing a hint of displeasure although he did not speak up to protest.

“I asked a skilled friend of mine to investigate - his ability to slip in and out of the Alienage is like no other. He sent a letter along stating that Brother Genetivi is missing and his assistant dead, and that he’d been able to find this map among his things.” Darcy sat back in his chair, “It’s the best lead we have for the Urn, we should set out immediately if we are to have our best chance to wake the Arl. Thoughts?” Darcy opened the floor to discussion.

“And we have to save the Arl?” Gwen clarified, ignoring the indignant glare Alistair shot her way. Their conversation last night did little to warm her up to the idea of helping nobles, they had already saved Lady Isolde, did they really have to save another?

“Not all others lick the boots of nobles like you, Alistair. Why should those of common breeding care about the fates of their lords when the lords care little for them in return?” Morrigan berated him and at the same time, both insulted and defended Gwen. She frowned, unsure how to interpret such a backhanded compliment.

Alistair scowled at Morrigan. Yet before he could offer a retort, Darcy commanded their attention again, “Look, I know we all just woke up and we’re feeling a little strung out, but if we can wake up the Arl and get him on our side, we stand a much better chance of going against Teryn Loghain. The other Lords at the Landsmeet are not going to care about a bunch of nobodies, especially not ones led by an Elf.” He flicked the tips of his pointed ears for emphasis, “Unless we’re able to secure noble backing that can verify Alistair’s nobility, we don’t stand a chance and may as well charge head first at the Archdemon with no backup.”

In a rare moment of almost seriousness, Darcy had made an excellent point that Gwen could not argue. She shrugged and did not offer a rebuttal. What was an extra week or two of travel when they had wasted so much already?

“Any other objections?” Darcy spread his arms, welcoming their arguments.

“Can we go after we finish breakfast? I am reluctant to leave such a decadent spread after our long hours on the road.” Zevran took a suggestive bite of sausage and Darcy’s playful grin settled back in its usual place.

The table quickly devolved into meaningless chatter, Sten complaining of Darcy and Zevran’s un-Qun-like proclivities, while Morrigan took every opportunity to provoke Alistair’s ire. Leliana regaled Gwen and Wynne with stories of her travels with the Chantry, and Barkspawn slept soundly beside his recently emptied bowl. Gwen didn’t know when she had started to think of this as ‘normal’. Part of her longed for the quiet solitude she had grown used to have, but another part relished in the company, soothing the little girl inside her who wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by people she cared for.

“I forgot something in my rooms.” Gwen's fists were tightly clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to suppress the fiery anger rising in her chest. She couldn't help but notice Alistair's slumped shoulders and distant gaze as he returned from his meeting with Darcy, Bann Teagan, and Lady Isolde. The air around them felt heavy and tense, like a thunderstorm brewing on the horizon. “I’ll meet you at the gates.”

Darcy, who appeared to mirror her feelings, his nose crinkled and his eyes sharp, nodded his assent - a smirk of understanding pulling at the corner of his mouth. No one else seemed to notice their exchange and Gwen quietly slipped away from the group.

Frustration and irritation whirled in her mind like a tempest, fueled by Isolde's constant undermining of Alistair and the never-ending Calling that plagued her. The throbbing ache in her head was a constant companion, a reminder of her frayed patience. She had reached her limit with the haughty nobles and their archaic belief in their own superiority. It was enough to make her want to scream into the wind.

Her timing was perfect, Lady Isolde exited the throne room, her blonde hair pulled back tight in her braided buns, and her thin mouth set in a hard line as she started down the hallway towards the Arl’s study, Bann Teagan nowhere in sight.

With cautious steps, Gwen trailed behind Isolde, her senses on high alert. She could feel the weight of Isolde's trust in their familiar surroundings and she knew it was up to her to be vigilant. As they neared the study, Gwen instinctively jammed her foot inside the door, causing Isolde to startle in alarm. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the masked intruder standing before her.

“You!” How kind of her to remember Gwen’s name, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you have left with the others?”

Her pupils widened as she took an involuntary step back, raising an arm as though she stood a chance at shoving Gwen away. She’d barely done anything and already the Orlesian’s delicate sensibilities were affronted by her presence.

“You don’t mind if I come in, do you?” Gwen didn’t wait for the response of what was sure to be a resounding no before yanking the door out of Isolde’s white-knuckled hand, entering the room with firm steps, and shutting it firmly behind her.

Isolde’s quickened breaths stuttered in the deafening silence.

“If I scream my guards will come and you’ll spend the rest of your days rotting in prison.” The quiver of Isolde’s bottom lip did nothing to help her attempt at intimidating Gwen. She merely raised an eyebrow at the Lady’s threat, unfazed by the mention of guards and prison. She knew that she could easily evade capture and that her presence here was more important than any risk of punishment. It wasn’t as though prison was something she was unused to, or unable to withstand, even if the thought of spending even a second of her time locked behind bars didn’t make her skin crawl.

“Relax,” Gwen rolled her eyes, “I do not wish to cause you harm.”

“What do you want then?” Isolde spat, backing up until she hit the desk, Gwen matching her steps, her eyes dark and intense as she peered at the smaller woman.

Her lip curled behind her bandana, “You are a cruel, vile woman. Stealing the only good thing he had away from him due to your petty insecurities?” Gwen had met many people like that, but to do that to someone like Alistair? If anyone in this world did not deserve that treatment it was him. “If it were up to me you would not so much as look at Alistair again, but alas he is attempting to save your husband - at the potential cost of delaying our mission and resulting in the deaths of thousands, might I add.”

Isolde’s eyes flashed with indignation, and she straightened, remembering her title and all the power it possessed. Unfortunately for her, Gwen did not care for such trivial things. “I am the lady of Redcliffe, you are nothing more than a common criminal, most likely, with the way you hide your face. What authority do you have to give me orders?”

The demure Lady had some fight in her after all. “You would think that, wouldn’t you?” Gwen stepped forward, crowding Isolde so she had to lean back on the desk, the wide cast of her eyes betraying her alarm, replacing the brief bout of vexation. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to maintain composure against Gwen's unexpected aggression. “That is all us common folk are to you nobles.” Gwen laughed humourlessly, her mouth curving into a feral grin under the cloth that covered it, the slit in her cheeks parting to reveal all of her pointed teeth. “Nothing more than a bunch of criminals. And while I may not currently be wanted by any authorities, I am more than willing to receive such punishment should I ever hear of you speaking to Alistair with no more than the utmost respect.”

Isolde’s lip pulled back in a sneer, “He is a bastard, a product of his father’s idiotic mistakes. There is no respect to give to boys like him.”

Gwen slammed her hands down on the desk, bracketing Isolde’s slender frame. The woman let out a yelp but Gwen pressed forward, “He is not his father, nor is he responsible for your misgivings about him. Either you kiss the very ground he walks on, you do everything he could ever want from you without question, and you shower him with praise like you would any other heir to the throne, or,” A prickling sensation at the nape of Gwen's neck signalled the impending Calling, its eerie hum growing louder with each passing moment. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out any rational thoughts as she succumbed to the all-consuming rage coursing through her veins. With a swift and calculated movement, she pulled down her mask and pressed one hand firmly against Isolde's mouth to silence her screams. A twisted smile stretched across Gwen's face, her nostrils flaring as if scenting the anticipation of what was to come. Isolde's eyes bulged in terror as she desperately tried to find purchase on the desk behind her, realizing too late that there was no escape from Gwen's wrath. “I will make you regret it, and I will enjoy every second of your torment.”

Gwen held the woman in place, grabbing her by the front of her dress and pulling her close. Tears streamed down Isolde’s face as her pleas were muffled by the firm grip Gwen had on her jaw. This terror, a tangible force that choked her very existence, threatened to swallow her whole. It was a familiar feeling, one that she had grown accustomed to over the years. The anxious part of her mind that constantly worried about what others thought of her was momentarily quelled by this overwhelming emotion. She didn't have to worry about someone growing to hate her one day when they weren’t able to stand being near her in the first place.

Gwen leaned forward so she was only a few inches from Isolde’s reddening face as she struggled to get air through her nose and into her panicking lungs. “Do you understand?” Gwen let her jaw widen beyond what was humanly possible, letting it hang for a moment as Isolde froze in terror before she snapped her mouth shut, barely missing the tip of the Orlesian’s perfect nose.

Isolde nodded vigorously as she sobbed, her whole body quivering.

Gwen's heart raced as she watched Isolde plead for her life, her desperation palpable in every squirm. The urge to give in and consume her enemy simmered beneath the surface, growing stronger with each passing second. But Gwen resisted, holding onto the moment, savouring it like a rare delicacy. Her eyes burned with determination as she stood her ground against the tempting desires within her.

Gwen took a hesitant step back, her heart racing as she wrenched herself away from the dangerous edge of anger and vengeance. That wasn't who she wanted to be - a ruthless avenger willing to do anything to protect Alistair. She had only meant to issue a warning to the Arlessa, to make her back off and leave Alistair alone. She hadn’t even meant to truly scare her, and she certainly hadn’t meant to show off her face.

Isolde sank to the floor, her chest heaving as she gasped down breath after breath as though she’d thought she’d never breathe again. She had almost been right.

Gwen had expected to be consumed by a wave of guilt, but instead, she was struck with a deep sense of revulsion as she stared down at the pitiful woman cowering on the floor. Her sobs echoed through the room, filling Gwen's ears and senses with their spinelessness. How could someone so weak and insignificant dare to think they were worthy of someone like Alistair? The thought made Gwen's blood boil. Alistair, with his kind heart, brave spirit, and infectious humour. But perhaps that was the root of it all - this woman's inferiority complex gnawed at her and she lashed out at Alistair because he believed himself to be lesser than her. This cycle had to end, and even if it meant facing consequences for her actions, Gwen couldn't bring herself to regret standing up against this injustice. The air in the room felt dense and oppressive, suffocating like a heavy cloak wrapped around them both. But beneath it all, there was a fiery determination burning within Gwen - a flame that refused to be extinguished.

Gwen pulled up her bandana, turning to leave before she could continue in her recklessness, not wanting to stay in case the urge of the Calling took hold of her once more - pushing her further into the monster lurking below her skin. She stopped when Isolde spoke in a trembling voice, “What are you?”

A monster, a creature so unlovable even the holy Sisters of the Chantry could not find anything redeemable about me. She wanted to say, but Isolde must already know that, it was written across her skin in the disfigurement of her mouth, the scar around her neck where the collar of shackles had once sat, and the bottomless darkness behind her eyes.

“If you tell anyone about what you saw or what I have said, what I am will be the least of your concerns.”

Gwen's anger boiled over, leaving no room for further discussion. She stormed out of the study, her hands clenched into tight fists, her nails pressing bloody half-moons into her palms. The sound of her heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway, each one marking her determination and frustration. Her face was flushed, her jaw set in determination as she left the room with purpose.

“You okay?” Darcy asked when she met them at the gate, his eyes flickering with curiosity. Gwen's response was a mere grunt, filled with an ambiguous mix of emotions that she struggled to put into words. Panic and satisfaction battled for control within her mind, making it difficult to form cohesive thoughts.

Darcy grinned mischievously, the rest of their party grabbing their packs, ready to head on the next leg of their adventure, their sights set on the small village of Haven. He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, meant for Gwen's ears alone, “Whatever you did, she deserved every second of it.”

Gwen’s gaze flickered to where Alistair fiddled with a fraying strap on his shield, oblivious to what had just happened, and she felt the anger start to dissipate in the glowing sun. He deserved so much more than she could give him, and yet… “Yes, she did.”

Next Chapter

A/N:

I apologize for the lack of Alistair in this chapter, but there is more to come of him next! This chapter was a bit transitional and shorter than most of the others but we should be back to our regular length when I post on Sunday!

As always thank you for reading my little story <3 It would mean so much to me for any likes, reblogs and comments!

#angst with a happy ending #slow burn #fluff #eventual smut #falling in love #humour #alistair dao #alistair dragon age #alistair theirin #alistair x original character #original female character #leliana #zevran arainai #zevran x warden #wynne dragon age #sten dragon age #morrigan dragon age

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