{ Shadows }
May. 5th, 2010 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
virtanadhalLyna
Dragon Age: Origins
810 words
“Well? Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?”
“Kill one. The others will make sure no one else comes.”
The man tried to protest, but Tamlen was fast. He released the arrow before the red-haired man could turn and run. His friends fled quickly, abandoning him to his fate.
The blond woman drank from her wooden cup and stared at the flickering fire.
It felt like a hundred years since she’d seen Tamlen. He’d proven himself as a hunter, and he’d been at just the right age—they both had, really—to start considering bonding and children. Almost the entire clan had been sure that, before the year was out, he’d have claimed a partner. And just about everyone was sure that he had planned on making her his.
Lyna smiled at the thought. Back then, nothing would have made her happier. Raising a family with Tamlen, both proud hunters in their own right, protecting and furthering their clan. She couldn’t have asked for more then.
Now, though… Lyna sighed.
What would her clan think of her now? True, she had gone with her Keeper’s blessing, but she felt like a traitor in some ways. She had only one other elven traveling companion, and he wasn’t a Dalish. He was an assassin, an Antivan Crow. Then there was the drunkard dwarf. A qunari soldier, quiet but strong. Even a mabari warhound.
And four shems, though she’d gotten out of the habit of calling them that. There was the Orlesian bard, Lelianna. Listening to her was sometimes like being back with the clan, when the elders would gather around to share stories. The mage Wynne provided a motherly warmth, fussing over whether Lyna slept enough or if she got wounded. Morrigan, the apostate, held herself at a distance, but Lyna respected her power and her dislike for close companionship. Then… there was the Templar-turned-Gray-Warden.
Alistair.
She looked over at him and caught a brief glimpse of the man behind the jokes and smile. He didn’t know she was looking, and she saw a serious man contemplating either the past or the future. Battle either way, she felt sure. Nothing else would make him touch the sword by his side. As much as he deferred to her, Lyna felt sure that if push came to shove, Alistair would prove himself as a superior commander.
The fire crackled, and he came out of his reverie. The human warrior looked over at the elf and saw her looking. He flashed her a wide grin before she looked away.
Lyna stared at the stars. She’d never been interested in fortune-telling, but some members of her clan claimed that the future could be read in the night sky. Briefly, the Dalish wondered what those flickering lights said about her. Could she and Alistair quell the Blight? Or would it overrun Ferelden, only to be stopped by the army of Orlesian Gray Wardens? Would they survive? Either one of them? Would the companions they had amassed survive? Would they be killed by the darkspawn? Or would Loghain capture them and have them executed as traitors? And if they lived… what then? Would they rebuild the Gray Wardens? Or be exiled? Would Alistair…?
She didn’t finish the thought. She was a Dalish. He was a human. Their friendship alone defied the odds. Anything more… would be impossible. Besides, she knew Alistair didn’t view her that way. If anything, she was a little sister to be protected. Protected, she thought with a smile, from Zevran’s less than serious flirtations and innuendos. Not that she was that foolish. She had let him join them, but she was in no hurry to fall into bed with someone who had tried to kill her.
“You know, it’s not that bad.”
Lyna started and looked to her left. Alistair grinned at her and nudged her, offering a bowl of lukewarm soup.
“Has to be heated up again now, but it’s really not bad. Even Lelianna didn’t complain! Morrigan did… but Morrigan always complains.”
Lyna smiled and took the bowl from him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I… forgot.”
“Forgot about eating? Probably not a good idea, you know.” He laughed, and Lyna almost smiled at the sound. “Well! At least I’m here to remind you about the little things like not starving.”
“Thank you.”
He frowned even as she lifted the bowl to her mouth and drank some of the broth. “Not even a smile? Am I losing my touch?”
“I’m sorry, Alistair. I was just… thinking.”
“About?” he prodded. His tone reminded her of an impatient child, but it was endearing rather than annoying.
She looked at the fire again. “An old friend.”
Alistair, for all his foolhardiness, knew when to be silent. He simply sat beside her and let her eat.
Lyna couldn’t begin to convey how grateful she was.
Dragon Age: Origins
810 words
“Well? Do you trust them? Shall we let them go?”
“Kill one. The others will make sure no one else comes.”
The man tried to protest, but Tamlen was fast. He released the arrow before the red-haired man could turn and run. His friends fled quickly, abandoning him to his fate.
The blond woman drank from her wooden cup and stared at the flickering fire.
It felt like a hundred years since she’d seen Tamlen. He’d proven himself as a hunter, and he’d been at just the right age—they both had, really—to start considering bonding and children. Almost the entire clan had been sure that, before the year was out, he’d have claimed a partner. And just about everyone was sure that he had planned on making her his.
Lyna smiled at the thought. Back then, nothing would have made her happier. Raising a family with Tamlen, both proud hunters in their own right, protecting and furthering their clan. She couldn’t have asked for more then.
Now, though… Lyna sighed.
What would her clan think of her now? True, she had gone with her Keeper’s blessing, but she felt like a traitor in some ways. She had only one other elven traveling companion, and he wasn’t a Dalish. He was an assassin, an Antivan Crow. Then there was the drunkard dwarf. A qunari soldier, quiet but strong. Even a mabari warhound.
And four shems, though she’d gotten out of the habit of calling them that. There was the Orlesian bard, Lelianna. Listening to her was sometimes like being back with the clan, when the elders would gather around to share stories. The mage Wynne provided a motherly warmth, fussing over whether Lyna slept enough or if she got wounded. Morrigan, the apostate, held herself at a distance, but Lyna respected her power and her dislike for close companionship. Then… there was the Templar-turned-Gray-Warden.
Alistair.
She looked over at him and caught a brief glimpse of the man behind the jokes and smile. He didn’t know she was looking, and she saw a serious man contemplating either the past or the future. Battle either way, she felt sure. Nothing else would make him touch the sword by his side. As much as he deferred to her, Lyna felt sure that if push came to shove, Alistair would prove himself as a superior commander.
The fire crackled, and he came out of his reverie. The human warrior looked over at the elf and saw her looking. He flashed her a wide grin before she looked away.
Lyna stared at the stars. She’d never been interested in fortune-telling, but some members of her clan claimed that the future could be read in the night sky. Briefly, the Dalish wondered what those flickering lights said about her. Could she and Alistair quell the Blight? Or would it overrun Ferelden, only to be stopped by the army of Orlesian Gray Wardens? Would they survive? Either one of them? Would the companions they had amassed survive? Would they be killed by the darkspawn? Or would Loghain capture them and have them executed as traitors? And if they lived… what then? Would they rebuild the Gray Wardens? Or be exiled? Would Alistair…?
She didn’t finish the thought. She was a Dalish. He was a human. Their friendship alone defied the odds. Anything more… would be impossible. Besides, she knew Alistair didn’t view her that way. If anything, she was a little sister to be protected. Protected, she thought with a smile, from Zevran’s less than serious flirtations and innuendos. Not that she was that foolish. She had let him join them, but she was in no hurry to fall into bed with someone who had tried to kill her.
“You know, it’s not that bad.”
Lyna started and looked to her left. Alistair grinned at her and nudged her, offering a bowl of lukewarm soup.
“Has to be heated up again now, but it’s really not bad. Even Lelianna didn’t complain! Morrigan did… but Morrigan always complains.”
Lyna smiled and took the bowl from him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I… forgot.”
“Forgot about eating? Probably not a good idea, you know.” He laughed, and Lyna almost smiled at the sound. “Well! At least I’m here to remind you about the little things like not starving.”
“Thank you.”
He frowned even as she lifted the bowl to her mouth and drank some of the broth. “Not even a smile? Am I losing my touch?”
“I’m sorry, Alistair. I was just… thinking.”
“About?” he prodded. His tone reminded her of an impatient child, but it was endearing rather than annoying.
She looked at the fire again. “An old friend.”
Alistair, for all his foolhardiness, knew when to be silent. He simply sat beside her and let her eat.
Lyna couldn’t begin to convey how grateful she was.
