#AlistairxOC

[truffle-draws]

My original character Gwen from Dragon Age ❤️

If anyone would like to read the fic that accompanies this - romancing Alistair, my fav, of course - here is the link!

#art #dragon age #alistair theirin #alistair dragon age #AlistairxOC #Alistairxoriginal character #slow burn #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 4.6k

Part 4/40

"But good God what's wrong with me, after all? What am I missing? Why this emptiness, this nostalgia? What is this anxiety, as if I only loved something I didn't know?" - Clarice Lispector

Masterlist

“Do you sleep with it?” Leliana’s shock of red hair appeared in the corner of Gwen’s view.

“What?” Gwen paused in the cleaning of her daggers, having just successfully dispatched a group of travelling bandits, they were taking a moment to rest before returning on their journey. She had plunked herself down on a boulder, its surface rough and uneven, covered in patches of vibrant green moss that seemed to cling to it like a second skin. The tendrils of moss reached out towards the ground as if trying to anchor the boulder even deeper into the earth. She could feel the moss's soft and slightly damp texture beneath her fingertips. It provided a cool and comfortable seat, a welcome reprieve from the heat of the sun. Despite its decaying appearance, there was a sense of life and vitality emanating from the boulder, as if it was still connected to the earth and thriving in its own way. Shade from the lush green trees that swayed gently in the light breeze allowed for a moment of privacy from the prying eyes of her fellow companions. Or so she’d thought.

“The mask,” Leliana clarified, “is it not uncomfortable to keep it on at all times?”

Gwen shrugged, popping her daggers back in their sheaths that hung from her worn belt, “I’m used to it.”

Leliana twisted her mouth as she considered this, “So you do sleep with it on?”

“Why does it matter?” Gwen was quickly getting tired of this game, and her stomach had been rumbling unpleasantly for over an hour which spiked her irritation. Despite the tough exterior of leather and metal that she wore, Gwen's stomach grumbled constantly, a reminder of her meagre earnings and the constant struggle for survival. It gnawed at her like a wild beast, relentless and untameable, much like she was herself. She could not bear the feeling of hunger, like claws scraping against her insides, urging her to hunt and fight for scraps. She was no stranger to this constant battle against hunger, but it did not make it any easier.

“I’ve just never met anyone so insistent on hiding their face, you’re very dedicated, ” Leliana’s gaze darted down curiously. When Gwen bristled, the rogue was quick to correct herself, “Though I’d never dream of asking you to remove it. We are all entitled to our secrets.” 

Gwen didn’t like the sparkle of mirth that danced in her eyes but was willing to let it go, for now. The woman was only curious, Gwen had no proof she meant any harm, “I don’t wear it at night if I’m alone.”

Leliana smiled brightly, the whiteness of her perfect teeth bright against her skin that had been darkened with dirt from their travels, “Thank you for indulging me,” she said with an incline of her head, “should you ever need anything I hope you know I would be more than happy to be of assistance.”

“Right.” Gwen sat stiffly, scanning for the hidden meaning within the other woman’s words, but she wasn’t a bard for no reason and there was no ulterior motive that Gwen could confidently find. 

Leliana nodded before flitting off, gone to bother Sten instead, which seemed like a much more dangerous idea. The Qunari was the definition of surly, and unpredictable. He’d killed a whole family in cold blood and seemed to have little remorse for his actions. To top it all off he was massive, both in height and in muscle, and could easily crush the much smaller woman. 

However, Gwen was entranced by Leliana's fluid movements, her lithe body gliding with ease and grace. She felt a sense of reassurance, knowing that she would be able to swiftly dodge any of Sten's attacks should he become provoked enough to strike.

The group began moving again after their short rest, Leliana still thankfully in one piece despite Sten’s less-than-pleased scowl.

The dirt path stretched ahead, surrounded by trees on either side with branches that bent inwards towards the path. The rich green leaves cast dappled shadows on the ground, providing a soothing contrast to the harsh rays of the sun. The air was filled with the cheerful chirping of birds, their vibrant colours flitting between the trees. Gwen caught a glimpse of something soft and delicate resting on the ground. Keeping her eyes locked on it, she cautiously bent down and picked up the light blue feather. Its gentle touch against her skin reminded her of the old sheets she had in her childhood room, so worn by age that the once itchy fabric had become soft. She stuffed it in her pocket, no longer wanting to touch it - to bring out those memories - but feeling unable to part with it.

At the front of the group, Darcy and Leliana walk side by side, their figures silhouetted against the bright sky. Darcy's animated gestures were mirrored by Leliana's graceful movements as they chatted, their voices carrying lightly through the peaceful surroundings.

Gwen’s attempt to ward off further company was quickly thwarted, her hunched shoulders and slow pace meant to signal for others to stay away were promptly ignored. Much to her growing irritation, some of the other party members seemed to have temporarily shut off all connection to their ability to understand body language.

“So,” Alistair dragged out the vowel as he sidled up to where she walked behind the group, purposefully alone, but no longer. It had been four days of travel, four days of avoiding his curious gaze as she stuffed food under her bandana. He’d tried to engage in conversation with her with limited success as she’d stuck to one-word answers as much as she’d been able to, much to his frustration. However, an unanticipated side effect of her frequent dismissal of the former-Templar was Morrigan’s approval, the witch seemed to warm up to her the more that she ignored Alistair’s attempts to befriend her. It was a strange consequence, but not one that Gwen minded as Morrigan was not the type to engage wilfully in meaningless conversation.

Gwen had been dreading the inevitable moment when someone inevitably brought up her bandana, but so far they had only given her quizzical - or judgemental - looks. She could accept those, they were all entitled to their own opinions, and she’d take stares over attempting to rip the cloth off her face any day. She wondered how much of it was thanks to Darcy. He had been insistent that the others respect her privacy and none seemed to want to disobey his command. But even in their silence, Gwen could sense their curiosity and disapproval lingering in the air.

Gwen raised her eyebrow, “You have a question you wish to ask.” She stated, as had become their routine. He would ask her something small, like how she was enjoying the sunny weather, to which she would give a short reply, like ‘it’s fine’. He would then pout and she would continue to ignore him until he came up with another pointless question. 

A wide, mischievous grin spread across his face like a magician revealing his best trick. As the corners of his lips turned up, Gwen couldn't help but feel a sense of unease and she instinctively tensed her muscles, bracing herself for whatever he had in store. She could practically hear the gears turning in his mind as he plotted his next move, “I was actually going to suggest you ask me a question, you know since I’m the one always bothering you, I figured it’s only fair.” 

Gwen had not expected that, “And if I do not have any questions for you?”

Alistair’s grin continued to grow, he had anticipated this. He’d managed to glean enough about her tendencies from their limited conversations to know how she would respond, how irritating, “Then I will continue to ask you increasingly simple questions that will bore both of us out of our skulls. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you hate that.” 

Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, “Well played,” he beamed at the compliment and Gwen found herself regretting that she’d given it. His ego had inflated, and a man with an inflated ego was never a good thing, “Why do you insist on asking me inane questions when you know I don’t like it and do not want to answer?”

“Because I want to get to know you, is that truly such a terrible thing?” The earnestness with which he regarded her had her stomach churning uncomfortably. 

“Why?” Had he figured out there was something wrong with her and was trying to pinpoint what it was? Or did he find her face covering suspicious and want to slowly worm his way past her defences until he could expose her true, rotten self?

He looked at her like she’d asked him why the stars glowed only at night, “Why would I not?”

Gwen hummed noncommittally in response. She didn’t have a good answer, at least not one she was willing to share. She sighed as she considered his ask, she was getting rather bored, there was nothing but miles of road and other than fighting one group of bandits, they had done nothing but walk and camp. Maybe if she indulged him this once he would realize that nothing was interesting about her and back off. She doubted that would be the case, but she may as well try.

“Why are we helping Lady Isolde instead of letting her sacrifice herself for a problem she caused?” It had been bugging her for days. They had set out to fight the Darkspawn and so far they had fought exactly none. What was the point of helping Isolde if there was no Darkspawn involvement?

She had wanted a topic change and she had succeeded, potentially a little too well as Alistair’s eyebrows shot up his forehead and he gapped at her, “What?”

Gwen cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare, and kept her gaze trained on the road ahead, “Why are we taking on this responsibility, spending extra time to double back to solve a problem she could have easily avoided, and potentially putting the rest of Ferelden at risk if we lose too much time to stop the Darkspawn Army.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and Gwen watched him nervously from the corner of her eye, concerned about what she had gotten herself into. It had been an honest question and she’d tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, though she had never been the best at controlling her tone, whether she meant to or not, her true feelings always found a way to seep through, like rainwater through an old thatched roof. This had been a bad idea.

“You seem very concerned about stopping the Blight for someone who only joined us two days ago.” 

“The Blight affects everyone, I am included in everyone,” she retorted, “of course, I’m concerned about stopping it. But you didn’t answer my question.”

After a moment of consideration, her answer seemed to satisfy him enough and he returned to the topic of Isolde, though Gwen wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, “Lady Isolde made a bad decision, but it wasn’t on purpose, she was trying to do the best with a shitty situation. We can’t let her or Connor suffer when we have a chance to help them. Blood Magic always creates more problems than it solves, do you honestly think that it's the answer?” 

“From what I’ve seen, magic is magic, whether it's blood magic or otherwise, it's the mage that makes it good or evil.” Gwen folded her arms over her chest defensively.

He waved his hands in front of himself like he was trying to ward off invisible demons, “I am not arguing Blood Magic with you, it is evil, end of story. And would you really be okay with letting a boy become motherless just because we were too lazy to help them?” 

Gwen felt like this conversation was quickly getting out of control and she didn’t know how to fix it, she tried to soften her tone, “He has a father and an uncle who love him, does he not?”

“That’s not the point,” Alistair insisted, the muscle in his jaw ticking, “Even if we can save Arl Eamon, Isolde is still his mother. If I was in Connor’s shoes and I found out that my mother’s life could have been spared but people chose to kill her for simplicity's sake I would be beside myself. Would you not feel the same if it was your mother?” 

With her eyes fixed on the distant horizon, Gwen tried to steady her breathing. The mention of her mother struck a painful chord within her, dredging up memories and emotions that she had spent years trying to bury. If she let those memories in, she would never be able to get out of the deep pit it would put her in, scrabbling at the dirt walls with broken nails, calling - begging - for help. 

In and out, in and out, I am safe, they cannot find me, they cannot hurt me.

Gwen kept her tone as neutral as possible, devoid of all emotion, “Saving Isolde does not exist in a void. If we’re unsuccessful at stopping the Blight because we were delayed trying to save her, neither of them will live anyway. Nor will any of the common folk of Ferelden. Are the lives of these two nobles worth more than that?” 

A flash of irritation crossed his face, Gwen cursed herself, she should have let it drop, but she hadn’t been thinking straight when the topic of her mother had been brought up.

“Of course, I care about the lives of all the people of Ferelden, but how can I condemn a mother’s actions when she was simply trying to protect her son?”

“She wasn’t trying to keep him safe, she was trying to keep him close to her even though she knew it came with risks. I don’t blame her for being unwilling to part with her son, but parents must make hard decisions that are in the best interests of their children, whether they like that decision or not. Would the Circle not have been the safest place for him if he was so susceptible to demon possession?” Gwen tried to keep a gentle tone, but monsters were not made to be gentle and the words came out harsher than she’d meant them to be. 

Alistair scoffed, “And you would know what’s best for Connor? Losing his mother and potentially his father in quick succession. How could you wish that on anyone?”

“Do not put words in my mouth,” Gwen warned, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, and her top lip curling up, “I do not wish for the boy to be miserable, but Isolde should pay for what she’s done. Her actions led to the deaths of many of the castle staff, some of whom were likely mothers. What about those children? Do they not deserve justice too, or do nobles exist above such simple things?”

She hadn’t meant to let her personal feelings into this conversation, but she couldn’t control the dam that threatened to burst in her chest, covering all those near her in the hatred spewing from her in waves.

“Isolde and Eamon aren’t like that.” All the irritation seemed to deflate out of him, as though her anger had overwhelmed his and he could do nothing but surrender. “They… took me in when I was a child and had nowhere else to go. I owe it to him to try to save his family.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, “Can you just trust me on this? I know they’re good people, and they deserve our help.”

But Gwen wasn’t ready to let go, even if her anger subsided as she watched his face soften, she felt the urge to keep going, to dig deeper, to push and push and push until something broke. “I don’t make it a habit to accept things I don’t understand, I won’t live in ignorance simply because it’s easier. I trust that you believe they are good people, but I don’t understand why this family bond is so important to you that it is worth putting the lives of hundreds of others at risk.” She exhaled sharply out of her nose and tried her best to reign it in, but the words were stuck in her throat. She hadn’t meant to upset him, but she’d done it so easily. This was why she’d been avoiding engaging in conversation, she always messed it up. No matter her intentions, she irritated people without meaning to, it was safest to avoid it as much as possible.

I want to know what I’m missing out on, Gwen wanted to say. It was too private, too vulnerable to share with a man she barely knew. This conversation had already crossed many of her boundaries, she must retain some if she was to make it through this mission. Though it was looking less and less likely every day.

Alistair glanced over to where she walked, her hair hung in her face, her head bowed to hide from him so he wouldn’t see the myriad of emotions she was struggling to suppress, “Have you ever had someone you were really close to, someone you’d risk your life for without a second thought?”

In and out, breath in and out, Gwen repeated in her head, the silence between them deafening. Do not think of her, not now, do not think of- “Yes.” 

“If that person had been threatened to be taken from you and locked up, would you not have tried to find a different way to keep them safe?” 

Gwen would have done anything to keep her safe, not that it would have done her any good in the end since it was all Gwen’s fault, always her fault, she was the reason her only friend didn’t-

Gwen gritted her teeth, “You cannot keep the ones you love safe when you put them in danger by being in your presence. By keeping Connor with her, she opened him up to possession, whether she meant to or not, that is what she did. And now she has the chance to save him, to end his torment as soon as possible. If I’d had that option I would have taken it in a heartbeat, I would have killed anyone who tried to stop me from sacrificing myself for her because that is what you do for the people you love.” That is what you do when it is your fault they are suffering.

Alistair was silent and the air felt heavy. “…Her?”

Shit, she’d been so caught up in her memories, in her feelings, she’d let that small mistake slip, and Alistair had caught it immediately. For as much as he played the goofy buffoon, he was sharper than she had initially believed. Clever, annoyingly clever. 

When she didn’t answer, Alistair sighed heavily and shook his head, “Look, I think she deserves a chance. She made a mistake, but she shouldn’t have to pay with her life. She’s important too, just like Connor. She can atone later, but she can’t do that if she’s dead. If we can help then we should, or at least try to, it’s the right thing to do.”

Gwen lifted her head, closing her eyes as she released the tension in her shoulders, she shouldn’t have gotten so riled up. The way he watched her with sympathy - with understanding - caused her heart to trill with panic. She couldn’t let him know what she’d done, she knew better than to show weakness, “Fancy yourself quite the hero, huh?” 

Make a joke, make it light, and get him to move on. She couldn’t scare him into silence, not unless she wanted more problems, so her usual go-to was not a viable option. Instead, she would take a page out of Alistair’s book and hope that he could read his own handwriting. When he cracked a wry smile, she knew she had won and relief flooded her chest, “I wouldn’t go that far. Darcy is the real hero here, I’m just tagging along for the ride and doing my best to help whenever I can. If that makes me a hero, then sure,” He puffed out his chest and deepened his voice, adding an air of pomp that made him sound ridiculous and pulled at the corner of Gwen’s lips as she fought back a smile, “Alistair, the world’s most average hero, his slogan: He’s just a guy whose trying his best. It’s enough to make any Fereldan feel safe.”

Gwen snorted a laugh, surprised at the ease with which the noise came out of her, “I don’t know, I think you’re at least high average, you should give yourself some more credit, you are great at hunting Nugs, I’m sure they have some tales of a fearsome man with spiky hair and a sinister grin.” 

“Ah yes, my most worthy of foes: the Nug," Alistair quipped sarcastically.

Gwen's chuckle trickled off into silence as she replayed their conversation in her head, stuck on one part of what he had said, “Why did the Arl of Redcliffe take you in?” She asked, tilting her head as she scrutinized his face. 

Alistair’s smile turned into more of a grimace and he rubbed the back of his neck with a heavily armoured hand, “Ah, yes, I suppose you weren’t around when I told Darcy.” He started to examine a seemingly very interesting spot on the back of his hand, “I’m, uh, sort of the bastard son of King Maric. After my mother died he sent me to live with the Arl. I lived with him for the first ten or so years of my life before I was sent to the Chantry.”

Gwen let that information sink in, digesting and mulling it over while Alistair watched her nervously, expecting some sort of reaction. After letting him sweat it out for a moment, Gwen broke her silence, “I can see now why you’d think you owed him something, things could have been much worse for a bastard. A rundown orphanage in a tiny village with no clue as to your parentage, for example.”

Alistair’s shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath of relief. Gwen raised an eyebrow at him, “You thought I’d be upset you’re a bastard?” 

“You don’t seem to have any love for nobles, and my being the heir to the throne and all… I was mildly afraid you were going to yell at me, or maybe stab me with those pointy daggers you’re always reaching for.”

She hated that he’d already noticed yet another one of her habits, “Only mildly?”

“Yes? Or is the threat of being run through more real than I’d previously thought?” He said, a mock-anxious tinge to his voice. 

Gwen sucked her front teeth, “I’m losing my touch, I’ll have to fix that.”

“Or, and I’m just spitballing here, you could not threaten your friends?” Alistair countered, his hands held out in mock surrender.

Gwen frowned under her bandana, “Friends? We were just arguing.” 

Alistair shrugged, his hands dropping casually to his sides, “And now we’ve made up!” He broke out into a lopsided grin, something Gwen had observed him doing often. It made him look younger, his eyes brighter, though she didn’t know how old he was, she assumed he was somewhere around her age, in his early twenties. She didn’t know her own age either, but it was her best guess.

Gwen shook her head, hiding the smile that had crept up to her eyes, the more she argued with him the more he would insist, “If you say so.” 

He puffed up his chest, “I do say so, Milady, and as the hopefully-not-future-King, what I say is law so you can’t disagree.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes, but could not suppress her smile. They lapsed into silence, however unlike prior times when Alistair would stare at her expectantly, hoping for something more than a one-word answer, he seemed almost… content? Like he was pleased with himself for getting her to speak with him, as though it was some sort of a big accomplishment. She certainly had resisted at first, but it wasn’t like she had made it particularly difficult. Or maybe she had and she just hadn’t realized it. Anything beyond frightening people was out of her expertise when it came to socializing. Though from what she had seen in her limited observations of human interactions, when someone was playing hard-to-get, they were much more obvious about it. She had gone for the ‘lay low and maybe he’ll stop being interested’ route, but when her initial plan failed to have the desired effect, she resorted to asking a pointed question that struck a nerve. Yet he still didn’t seem intent on leaving her alone. 

A spark of warmth started to unfurl in her chest, like the bud of a flower that had been frozen in ice for years and was only now starting to feel the first rays of sunlight. It unnerved her, she wasn’t supposed to feel like that, she hadn’t felt like that since she was a child. Yet the feeling didn’t last long, quickly replaced by the swirl of memories she accidentally unleashed only moments earlier. Blood, splattered across a cold forest floor, a scream cut off with an abruptness that left her ears ringing. Dread, fear, blame, it was her fault, it was all her fault. The world had been darker, she had stolen its light. She couldn’t - wouldn’t - steal another, she didn’t deserve such kindness, and Gods was Alistair blinding when he smiled at her like that.

Gwen tucked her hands into her pockets, hunching her shoulders, and slowing her pace, Alistair slowing along with her, not seeming to be aware of what she was doing, until they were mixed in with the larger group, chattering happening around them. Some were more willing to talk than others, as shown by Morrigan’s annoyed huff as Darcy directed his latest tale her way. 

Gwen dropped her gaze, but out of the corner of her eye, she watched Alistair. He blinked, having realized that they were no longer ahead of the group. A small frown pulled at his lips and he looked at her like he wanted to say something, but upon seeing her avoiding eye contact, her hands shoved into her pockets, he turned away a look of disappointment flashing across his face.

Gwen didn’t understand why he was disappointed. Usually, people were relieved to not have to speak to her, let alone be alone with her. It was something instinctual, to give her a wide berth, an old knowledge that being close to her would spell their demise. Alistair was a constant presence, always hovering near her like an overeager puppy. His attempts to engage her in conversation and make her laugh were persistent and frustrating. She couldn’t fathom why he was so intent on being around her. It was for the best she didn’t allow his curiosity to go any further. She couldn't afford to be selfish and allow herself to be swept up in this fantasy that she was deserving of attention from someone like Alistair, a Gods-damned prince. 

Gwen didn’t belong with them. As soon as she had what she was looking for - though she was still unsure what that was exactly - she would part from them. Assuming she lived long enough and that blasted song that never ceased to swirl around her skull didn’t take her first. Or Alistair didn’t run her through the moment he learned what she was hiding. It was silly of her to crave any sort of companionship with him, monsters do not deserve love and kindness, the only way a monster learns is through pain. Gwen had learned plenty of agonizing lessons, she only hoped that Alistair would not become one of them.

A/N: I think the update schedule will likely be every Sunday from now on, but if there's more interest I can try to get chapters out more frequently! What do you think Gwen's secret is?

#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

[spoopyghostgirl]

IDEAS IDEAS IDEAS

Fanfiction ideas, of course

Sooo

Dragon Age

What I'm thinking is that the main character is the Grey Warden from Origins + ends up becoming inquisitor.

*I'm thinking she doesnt participate in the joining because of her royal mage status + Duncan not wanting to risk the wrath of the imperium*

She's a mage brought in to help teach necromancy at the Ferelden circle + joins the wardens in an attempt to get away from her father + the crown (being crown prince of her homeland). She sides with the circle, saves her friends, + the story progresses from there. She becomes close friends with Leliana + Zevran, casually fooling around with Zevran until Alistair makes his feelings for her clear. They are happy + defeat the blight. They speak of marriage but one morning when Alistair wakes up, shes gone.

During the time of the mage rebellion + what not, Peregrine is helping her great x 25 grandfather + father find a way to break the veil + enter the fade. This is how she is introduced into inquisition. Ellowine, a childhood friend of hers, originally acquired the anchor but had clung to ellowine, feeling peregrines power through the blood pact they shared. When Ellowine + co come to her family for help (they lied to trick + kill her) peregrine cant bring herself to kill her dearest friend + the mark is transferred to peregrine. And we in there.

She pretends to be a prince, hiding her identity from Leliana, only for it to be exposed by Ellowine. Alistair shows up to offer aid + Ellowine let's it slip then. Later, peregrine returns from a mission + is injured, Leliana being able to confirm it's her after she removes the mask she wears, slapping her firmly. Peregrine then tells everyone of her true identity.

Probably be AlistairXoc(inky)XCullen + CassandraXocXJosephine

#dragon age inquisition #dragon age inquistor #cullen dragon age #dragon age origins #alistair dragon age #alistair x warden #cullen x inquisitor #cullen x warden #alistair x inquisitor #fanfiction #fanfiction ideas #keeping the romance alive #i do love my bois

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 4k

Part 3/40

"I think I've come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am." - Jenny Slate

Masterlist

“So, you think you’ll want to join our crew as we valiantly fight against the Darkspawn invasion?” Darcy pulled out his sword and started duelling an invisible enemy where they stood in the courtyard of Redcliffe castle. Old blood stained the grass beneath their feet, the bodies of the undead they’d fought only a few hours beforehand strewn across the ground like discarded playthings. The smell of copper and rot filled the air but Darcy seemed bothered by none of it, instead, it seemed to almost enthuse him. “I know you almost got killed,” he said with a flippant motion of his hand, his other resting on his hip, quickly moving past that unfortunate fact, “but you aren’t afraid to fight dirty and you took down those three undead all on your own. I’d be remiss not to ask you to join our team, we could use a rogue like you. We’d have Leliana for all the- well, whatever it is she does when she’s not talking about her supposedly prophetic dreams from your Shemlen God, and you, the intimidating aura and ruthless survival skills. A perfect combination.” Darcy clasped his hands together and batted his eyelashes at her pleadingly.

“Uh,” Gwen said with all the intelligence of a wolf caught in a bear trap. Her head felt like it had been shoved full of cotton, and run over by a wagon, and the ringing music in her ears had only gotten stronger in her weakened state. 

“What our fearless leader means to say,” Alistair interjected while Gwen continued to blink at Darcy, at a loss for words, “is that we would be honoured to have your strong and ruthless fighting spirit on our side.” 

“Yes, that,” Darcy agreed. 

“Why am I being the tactful one here,” Alistair said with exasperation, “That’s usually not my strong suit.”

“Then you can rest easy, Alistair, intelligence would be a necessity, which you are sorely lacking,” Morrigan droned, her arms crossed over her chest, her robes covered in sprays of dark blood that did not belong to her. Out of all of them, she was relatively unscathed - the perks of being a mage. 

“Oh, well excuse me if I don't possess your level of intelligence, oh great and wise Bog Witch.” Alistair huffed.

“My hut was adjacent to a swamp, Alistair. Anyone with even the slightest semblance of wisdom would be aware of that fact.” Morrigan shot back, Alistair looking more and more miffed by the second. 

“Children, the both of you” Darcy cut in, stepping between the two with his hands up as though they were quarrelling school children, ”trading insults isn’t going to convince Gwen to join us.”

Gwen had been watching the exchange with tired eyes, barely hearing what they were saying in her exhausted state, still unsure how she was managing to stand on her own two feet. But at the mention of her name, she focused her gaze on Darcy. She had attempted to uncover any ulterior motives lurking in the shadows. He had seen her in action, swift and deadly with her daggers in hand. But beyond that, he knew almost nothing about her except for the way she could take down their enemy without hesitation. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person one would want hanging around your camp late at night. And yet, during their entire battle through Redcliffe castle and their talk with Lady Isolde - who was now dealing with the consequences of her poorly thought-out plan - she could find none. Darcy, Alistair, Morrigan, and even Barkspawn had had her back throughout the entire fight, save for when she had gotten separated, though that was as much her fault as it was theirs. Darcy had treated Lady Isolde with kindness and grace that she had returned with self-righteousness and a judgemental eyeing of Darcy’s ears. It had left Gwen confused as to why they were going to go out of their way to fetch a mage from the Circle to un-possess Connor at great personal risk to Darcy when it was the Arlessa who’d gotten them into that mess in the first place. She had caused the death of most of the castle’s occupants and had unleashed a horde of undead upon the people she was supposed to protect. The assassin mage they had freed from the prison had offered an easy trade, Isolde’s life for her son’s. It seemed simple to Gwen, but Darcy had refused and had instead offered an alternative that would have them making the trek back to Redcliffe from the Circle. 

By all accounts, Darcy was a good person trying to help everyone he came across, whether they deserved it or not. She wasn’t entirely convinced he wanted her to join them just because of her ability to fight, there had to be something else, some other reason he wanted to get her to travel with them. Perhaps it was as simple as having her ‘intimidating aura’ around so that others were less likely to take advantage of Darcy’s good-hearted nature, though Morrigan provided enough intimidation to scare off an entire army if she so chose to.

Did his Grey Warden senses pick up on what she hid behind her bandana? Was he trying to get her out of the town so he could put her down like the feral monster she was? It was certainly a possibility, yet he seemed too genuine to have anything sinister planned for her. 

“But,” Gwen furrowed her brow, “you don’t know anything about me.”

Darcy shrugged, “I’m good at reading people, and I can tell you’re the type of person who tries to do the right thing.” Gwen kept her lips pursed, that still didn’t negate the fact that she was hiding things about herself she had no intention of revealing, things that would turn them all against her in the blink of an eye. As if reading her thoughts, Darcy continued, “You’re a secretive person, I can tell you value your privacy, and I respect that. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to, as long as you don’t plan on betraying us that is.” He grinned as though he’d told a funny joke. No one laughed. Morrigan looked as disinterested as humanly possible, and Alistair… Alistair was looking at her with barely concealed curiosity and a dash of hope that made her heart start to race. He was going to be a problem. He couldn’t find out what she was or what she’d done. Even men with the kindest of faces could be hiding viciousness underneath. She was sure that that curiosity would turn to disgust, fear, and hatred. Feelings she couldn’t afford a Grey Warden to have for her, not if she wanted to complete what she had set out to do.

Gwen rubbed at her eyes with a bloody hand, probably smearing it all over her face, but she found she didn’t care, “I guess I’ll join you, for now.” These people held the key to her salvation - answers about the Darkspawn and an end to the incessant ringing in her head that was slowly driving her crazy. She was determined to get what she needed from them, no matter what it took. And if they tried to kill her, well, she’d either kill them first, or she’d be put out of her misery. At least she could say she tried. 

Darcy squealed and clapped happily like a child being given a puppy for their birthday. Alistair's face lit up with a large, toothy grin, his eyes sparkling with excitement and Morrigan continued to look as disinterested as she always did. Barkspawn barked happily, his butt wiggling with the force of his enthusiasm. 

“But first, I need sleep and maybe some more health potions.” Gwen swayed on her feet, leaning a hand against the cool castle wall for stability. Alistair winced and took a step forward, reaching out like he intended to hold her arm, but stopped when Gwen shied away, dropping his arms and looking away awkwardly. She supposed it wasn’t entirely irrational, considering he had all but carried her into the throne room to confront Lady Isolde and the demon wearing her son like a skin suit. He appeared amiable enough, but on instinct Gwen had cringed away from him, her mind immediately going into survival mode. Every muscle in her body had tensed, ready to defend or flee at a moment's notice. It wasn't that she thought he would harm her, but over the years it had become ingrained in her the need to constantly be aware and prepared for any potential danger. She couldn't control these automatic survival instincts, they guided everything she did and they kept her safe. She didn’t correct herself or apologize either, she didn’t need him thinking he could just touch her whenever he wanted, that would lead to complications she wanted to avoid experiencing again. 

Darcy heartily agreed - Gwen was relieved to turn Alistair’s attention away from her - having already asked Bann Teagen to allow them to stay the night in the castle, he got the attention of a soldier who pointed them in the direction of the guest wing. There were only two spare rooms available that didn’t have dead, rotting corpses being cleaned out of them, so they had to split who slept where. Darcy, Alistair, and Barkspawn took one room, while Morrigan and Gwen took the other. Gwen wasted no time and quickly exited, making her escape to the room. Thankful that there were two twin beds inside the little room and just enough walking space to comfortably fit two people. The last thing she wanted was to roll over, have her bandana shift, and for Morrigan to wake up to a face full of unnatural split cheeks and sharp, pointed teeth. Having separate beds meant that Gwen could ensure that the covers stayed over her head while she slept to avoid any accidental face reveals. And a dagger in hand for good measure. 

The late evening light shone through the small window on the far wall, the orange and pink colours of the sunset illuminating the old wooden furniture, knicks and scratches carved into the surface speaking to the lives of those who had previously occupied the room, servants who were more than likely dead. A worn carpet that once must have been a lively shade of red now sat brown with age and askew, dejected on the cold stone floor. The pillows were indented in the middle as though they hadn’t been moved since their last owner had peacefully slept the night away, unaware of the dangers that lurked around the corner. Gwen’s stomach rolled and she quickly turned her thoughts to other matters, unwilling to stay on that distressing subject.

Morrigan followed soon after her, casting her a cursory glance before complaining about the lack of service and proclaiming she would leave to find a clean bucket of water to wash herself with. Gwen doubted she would be successful, but was pleased to have the room to herself for a moment so she did not point that out.

In her absence, Gwen peeled off her armour, blood-crusted clothes following suit until she was only in her smalls. She felt vulnerable in this state, her pale, blue-tinted skin like that of a corpse was littered with scars, most she did not care if anyone saw, but the ones that she did… well she’d rather not have to explain them. The most haunting were the ones around her neck, wrists, and ankles, as though something had dug into her skin slowly for a long time. They left jagged edges and indentations, discoloured skin and marks that at one time had clearly been worn down to the bone. Her back was more raised red scar tissue than regular skin, long strips intersected with smaller ones made her back look like a gruesome patchwork quilt.

She doubted Morrigan would ask questions, nor did Gwen feel compelled to answer should any arise. She didn’t want to talk about them and she hoped that Darcy had meant what he said about respecting her privacy. She’d never travelled with anyone before, so she wasn’t sure what to expect. But even if they didn’t ask, they were sure to come to their own conclusions, and she wasn’t sure if she liked that any better. 

Gwen quickly re-tied her bandana, ensuring that it was tight - almost too tight - against her face, and threw on her cleanest tunic before flopping into bed. She didn’t care that she was sweaty and covered in blood, there would be a lot more of that in her near future. And right now, her battered and bruised body, having consumed a few too many healing potions that were pulling on her body’s depleted energy stores to heal her many wounds, was too exhausted to do anything else but sleep. Thankfully, she had enough awareness to ensure that her favourite dagger was clutched tightly in hand and the blankets pulled up and over her head. It was comforting, a familiar habit she had developed in her youth - though the sheets of her childhood had been threadbare and stained a variety of disturbing colours and these sheets were soft and downy as one would expect of linen that was kept in a prestigious castle. As she curled up under the covers, she was quickly lost to sleep and her mind was consumed by familiar terrors. She was trapped in a relentless cycle of nightmares, as she was every night for as long as she could remember, another curse of her existence. Before long, she was lost in the depths of sleep's dark grip where her deeply suppressed memories came out to haunt her.

***

When Gwen woke the next morning, the early morning rays shining softly through the window, she was not surprised to find Morrigan gone. However, she was shocked to see a small glass bottle filled with a glowing red liquid, and a delicate porcelain cup filled with clear water that had been placed carefully at her bedside. Having rested and healed up quite well she had no current use for the healing potion and carefully to tucked it away for later. Gwen sniffed the water suspiciously and then decided she was being ridiculous, if someone - likely Morrigan as she was sure the castle servants were too busy to provide such frivolous items to guests -  had wanted to kill her they had plenty of opportunity while Gwen had been unconscious all night. 

She drank the water and didn’t immediately keel over. She declared it a victory, threw on her clothes, and went to find a bucket of water for a speedy sponge bath, hoping that with the continued cleaning of the castle, it wouldn’t be too hard to come by. It didn’t take too long searching to find one and haul it back to the still-empty room along with some bread and apples she had found stashed in the cellar. As she sat down to eat, a sense of relief flooded through her. She could enjoy a meal without Alistair's attentive gaze following her every move. The thought of being constantly watched while they were on the road together made her stomach churn. So for now, she took solace in this moment of solitude, savouring each bite as if it were her last. The quiet rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds provided a peaceful soundtrack to her meal, a temporary escape from the journey ahead.

She emerged from the castle's entrance, her eyes scanning the area for her new companions. She spotted them standing in a small group, their figures silhouetted against the rising sun. They were all armed and armoured, ready to set off. Despite the early hour, the sun shone brightly on them, highlighting their features and casting shadows along the gravel path. Behind her, the castle stood tall and imposing, with its stone walls and towers reaching towards the sky, unwelcoming and urging her to move out of its grasp. She nodded at them, not willing to say much more at the time, loath to admit that she wasn’t a morning person lest they learn that weakness.

“You snore in your sleep,” Morrigan remarked with disgust, before turning on her heel and marching off. Gwen's eyebrows furrowed, creating deep lines on her forehead as she tried to recall the sound of her own snoring, her lips pulled into a slight grimace.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Alistair said, coming to stand beside her, looking at Morrigan’s retreating form with a scowl marring his face, “She’s all bark and very little bite.” 

“It’s okay,” Gwen shrugged, “she reminds me of a barn cat I once… roomed with. It would hiss at me whenever I tried to pet it, but when I woke up at night it had curled itself into a ball at my back. I don’t know if it liked to cuddle or was just stealing my body heat, but I enjoyed it all the same.” She didn’t add that by ‘rooming’ she meant stowing away, it wasn’t relevant to the conversation and Alistair really didn’t need to know. No need to pique his curiosity any more than it already was. 

“That is… an oddly apt analogy,” Darcy murmured, shooting her a surprised look. 

“I think it has some room for improvement,” Alistair interjected, “how about instead of a cute, cuddly cat, she’s prickly lizard? Or maybe something that breathes fire and poisons everything it touches.” 

Gwen started walking after said prickly, fire-breathing, poisonous lizard, “It’s your head if she hears you calling her that.”

“It’s always my head with Morrigan,” Alistair grumbled, but he reluctantly trailed after her as they began their journey toward the Ferelden Circle. His heavy footsteps echoed against the cobblestone path, and he glared holes into Morrigan’s back, who seemed determined to ignore him.

While they left Redcliffe, Darcy quickly explained that the rest of their group, Leliana, the aforementioned rogue, and Sten, a Qunari warrior had gone ahead to scout for Darkspawn in the area. They were to meet mid-morning on the outskirts of Redcliffe. 

“Do you usually split up when heading into battle? Surely more fighters would be better,” she’d asked.

To which Darcy had nonchalantly replied, “It’s best to be prepared for whatever lies next so we don’t march headfirst into a trap after a particularly taxing battle,” he stayed quiet for a moment, “besides, if we were to all die then there would be no one to carry on the fight against the Blight. Someone has to make sure that Ferelden survives this.” His eyes were focused on the horizon, his jaw set, a subtle shift in his stance. The lightheartedness with which he had so far carried himself momentarily vanished as she saw a hint of the leader within him emerge. Despite the constant presence of Grey Wardens and their threat, she couldn't help but feel reassured by Darcy's fierce determination to end the Blight and silence the ever-present haunting music in her mind. For once, she felt like she might have made a good decision in following him.

They met up with the two other companions and Darcy regaled them with tales of their battle, acting out his most favourite parts, and greatly exaggerating how easy it was. Gwen thought about pointing out that she’d almost died, but felt like Darcy would take to that in the same way as a child would take to having their favourite toy tossed into the mud. Besides, the orange-haired woman - who Gwen assumed must be Leliana - was watching him with rapt attention, and she couldn’t bring herself to diminish the small woman’s joy. The large Qunari on the other hand seemed to have tuned out immediately and stared at the horizon, face set in what she could guess was a permanent scowl. She’d seen a few Qunari before, and his attitude seemed par for the course.

“Is he always like this?” Gwen tilted her head towards Darcy as she whispered to Alistair. He shot her a quizzical look. 

“Always like what?” 

Gwen waved him off with a shake of her head and he went back to eagerly watching his friend. 

As the story came to a close, Darcy officially introduced her to the two new companions, although she couldn't help but feel like she was actually the newcomer. Leliana bound excitedly up to her and expressed her joy at having another woman to travel with, and Sten followed up her statement questioning if Gwen was a woman at all, given that they could not see her face and her figure was hidden under her armour. Gwen held back a sigh as Darcy admonished him in a joking tone for being ‘blind to Gwen’s obvious womanly ways’. There had been many reasons why Gwen had never travelled with a group before this, but she could add a new reason to the list; constantly being around differing, colourful personalities was exhausting and it hadn’t even been an hour yet. 

Maybe ending the Blight wasn’t worth it after all. 

Once Morrigan started barking at them for their ‘ridiculous chattering’ and urging them to move on before the Blighted Army descended upon all of Thedas, the group started their Northward journey. 

It didn’t take long for them to share the details of how their quest had begun. The Teryn who commanded King Cailan’s army, Loghain Mac Tir, had betrayed the King and retreated during the battle of Ostagar when they had called for help, abandoning those fighting and resulting in the King’s death, along with Duncan, Alistair’s Grey Warden mentor and the man who had recruited Darcy only a week before the battle. Alistair had tried to hide the sorrow that had crossed his face at the mention of his former mentor, but even his witty sarcasm couldn’t hide that deep sort of pain. Gwen made note to not bring it up. If not for the timely intervention of Flemeth, the famed Witch of the Wilds, and Morrigan’s mother, Darcy and Alistair would have perished as well. Their current objectives were to invoke the Grey Warden treaties with the Dwarves, Elves, and Mages to get aid in hunting down the Archdemon and its Darkspawn Army. Darcy recited the tale to Gwen, who only responded with a grunt of confirmation. The amount of information was overwhelming and gave her a great deal to think about.

Gwen quickly learned how to tune out the sounds around her and focus on the road ahead. It had limited success as she was often roped into conversations by Alistair - which of course it was him trying to include her, he probably thought he was doing her a favour - but she did not care to partake in them, something that he didn’t seem to be able to grasp. Sometimes, a sharp glare was enough to get him to leave her alone, but once he learned that the glare was never followed up with acts of violence, he started to push more and more. 

Maker, it had only been two days and already she wanted to throttle the Grey Warden. She refused to let herself be pulled in by his attempted thoughtfulness. She didn’t need it, she didn’t need to be included, and she was quite fine walking in silence until she could get what she wanted. She knew better than to allow herself to fall for this, she was a monster, a freak, an unlovable creature. She did not deserve their kindness and the guilt of deceiving them into thinking she wasn’t rotten at the core of her being threatened to choke her. She had tried to go against her nature once, but that had only ended in pain, and she had never wanted to feel that kind of pain again, nor inflict it on others. She had kept to herself over the years, but now, surrounded by people, she felt that loneliness crush around her. It was silly, but seeing these people be able to joke around and be open with each other in a way that she would never be able to, only widened that aching space within her heart where… where she had been. This would be harder than Gwen had anticipated, but to get her answers, she would do just about anything.

Next Chapter

A/N: I would love to hear your thoughts!

#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

[tired-truffle]

Yet Broken Still You Breathe

An AlistairxOC fic

Chapter Word Count: 3.5k

Part 2/40

Trigger warnings: Mildly graphic descriptions of violence, cannon typical

“Inside me, something seethes. Inside me, some feral animal claws at my ribcage, trapped.” - Molly McCully Brown

Masterlist

Finding out that Darcy was also a Grey Warden was not a welcome surprise, but in the heat of battle, it was not something Gwen could use any brain power to digest, lest she get run through by the undead overwhelming them.

Gwen's dagger was slick with dark blood as she yanked it out of the undead's ribcage. She spun around just in time to see another creature lunging towards her. With swift reflexes, she brought both daggers down in a protective stance, ready to fend off the attack that she had sensed coming from behind. She could handle a slash or two to her limbs, but she was rather reticent to have her internal organs spill out on the cold, dirty ground. Through the haze of battle, her eyes focused on the grey and blue armour the figure was wearing and she faltered. It was Alistair, and instead of moving in to attack, he had his back to her, guarding her from the enemies surrounding them. If he hadn’t been there, she would have likely been skewered already. She’d gotten sloppy, though it was due to lack of sleep from fighting the never-ending onslaught of creatures for multiple nights in a row, she was still kicking herself for letting the Grey Warden sneak up on her like that. He could have very easily been waiting for her strength to wane and use that moment to strike, having realized the truth that rotted at her core.

“Thought you could use the help!” Alistair called to her over his shoulder as his mouth curved into a wide grin, revealing straight, white teeth. His eyes crinkled at the corners and shone with mischief and warmth.

“You’re enjoying this a concerning amount.” Gwen huffed, cutting down a corpse that had gotten too close, and moving to flank him as the undead pressed their attack

“What’s not to love about putting the dead back where they belong?” Alistair bashed one creature with his shield, sending it careening away, and slashing at another, aimed perfectly for its neck and severing its still gnashing head. He grunted in disgust, “They don’t know when to quit.”

Gwen laughed lowly, but all banter ceased as another wave emerged from the castle.

By the time they had dispatched the last of the undead, bodies littering the ground, Gwen was surprised to find herself still standing. She’d had her fair share of tough fights, still, the exhaustion from previous nights coupled with the sheer intensity of their enemies from the most recent fight had her staggering. She collapsed in a controlled fall onto the blood-soaked ground, catching herself on her hands and knees so she didn’t tilt forward and face plant in the grotesque remains of the body in front of her. She let her eyes close for a moment her breath coming rapid and hot as she took a moment to let the dizziness fade. The smell of sweat covered her, a mix of salt and stale air. Underneath the fabric of her bandana, there was a faint hint of metal, like the tang of iron after a rain. As she peeled it just an inch off her skin, the musty scent intensified, mixed with the thick odour of blood and death. The air beneath the cloth was thick and humid, carrying the metallic scent with each breath she took.

Gwen slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the harsh light that shone from the sun peeking over the horizon. As her vision adjusted, she saw a small glass container in front of her, filled with a bright red liquid that seemed to glow. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing, the tanned hand that held it registering as safe in her tired brain, despite her confusion, and she didn’t jump back any further. Instead, she looked up at the tired - yet still somehow cheery - face of the Grey Warden who had fought alongside her for most of the night. Not to be mistaken with the other Grey Warden who had fought closely with his dog and the apostate - whose sneer, Gwen had discovered, never left her face, no matter the situation.

“You look like you could use a health potion,” Alistair said as he shook the bottle enticingly.

Gwen kept her expression neutral, not moving from her spot, “I think the battle-weary look suits me.”

“Ah, my mistake, a hardened rogue such as yourself would have no use for petty luxuries such as this.” He spoke in a mock-formal tone, bowing his head to keep his goofy smile from ruining his charade.

Gwen grunted her reply, not having enough energy to bother with something coherent and lifted her heavy arm to accept it. Alistair grinned triumphantly and placed the potion in her outstretched hand.

Gwen waited for him to leave, but when it was apparent that he wasn’t budging, his eyes were fixed on her like a hawk stalking its prey, curious and eager for whatever surprise or deception she might unveil.

“Thanks?”

“You’re most welcome, My Lady,” Alistair replied, unmoving.

She uncorked the bottle, glancing to where he was still standing, watching her, his fists resting on his hips, seeming strangely pleased with himself. Her paranoia reared its head, she narrowed her eyes at him and sniffed the bottle.

Alistair’s face fell, “I didn’t poison it, who do you think I am, Morrigan?” His voice was a few octaves higher in his disbelief.

“I don’t know any of you,” Gwen pointed out.

“But… but we just fought together! Does our warrior's bond mean nothing to you?” Alistair whined dramatically, his shoulders slumping forward. Gwen was mildly sure it was all an act, the corners of her lips quirking up at his hysterics.

“I suppose you would have let me die on the battlefield if that was your goal.” Gwen conceded. Alistair immediately perked up and Gwen held back her laughter at the exuberance with which he did so. How he had so much energy after that fight was beyond her.

“See, we’re bonded, now you’ll never get rid of me.”

Gwen raised an eyebrow, “That remains to be seen.”

Alistair’s eyes glinted like the cat who’d caught the canary, “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“I can tell.”

Alistair’s smile turned to a frown, then back to a smile, only to return to a frown once more, “I can’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult.”

Gwen didn’t know either if she was telling the truth. This was the most she’d spoken amicably with anyone in a long time. She settled for staring at him, her face carefully composed into a neutral expression. She didn’t know what to say so she simply just didn’t speak.

Alistair shifted his weight uneasily, as her intense gaze bore into him. Good, She had a certain aloofness that she had worked hard to cultivate. No Grey Warden would come crashing through and shatter her carefully crafted demeanour. Of course, she would never let Alistair witness her drinking the potion - she couldn't risk his curiosity getting the best of him and peeking under the cloth she had draped over her face.

“Right,” He said, before giving her a lopsided grin, “I suppose I should check in with our other companions, can’t have them thinking I’m playing favourites.”

Gwen nodded her acknowledgment, and when Alistair finally seemed to understand that she was done talking, he left with a sigh she wasn’t sure if he meant for her to hear.

Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose, this boy was going to be a problem, too earnest and eager for his own good. He seemed interested to know her, but if she ever let him find out, she was sure he’d kill her on the spot. It was what Grey Wardens did, kill creatures like her. She couldn’t fault him for following his duty, but she had not come this close to her first Darkspawn encounter to stop now.

She glanced around to make sure no one was watching before lifting her bandana just enough to slip the potion underneath and chug it back. Warmth spread through her body as she felt little cuts and scraps start to heal, the weariness draining out of her bones, and for one blissful minute, the whispers ringing in her skull died down to a bare simmer.

It didn’t last long, but she’d take any relief she could get.

***

Gwen had been hoping the castle would have been deserted. Her mind was in turmoil as she thought back to all the times she had hoped for an easy solution. But each time, reality proved her wrong. It was as if the universe took pleasure in denying her desires as if there was a force determined to make her life harder. Yet, despite this knowledge, she couldn't help but wish for an easier path once again.

She’d met back up with the Warden crew once they’d spoken with Bann Teagan. Though they had let him likely let him go to his death, they’d at least gotten access to a back entrance to make their journey through the castle easier.

Or so they’d thought.

The castle was crawling with undead, sometimes literally. If Gwen thought she’d been exhausted before, she was now learning an entirely new definition of the word. They’d run out of healing potions a few rooms ago, and as Darcy opened the next one with a confident, “How many more undead can there even be?” they were promptly overrun.

Gwen didn’t know how much blood was her own, her companions, or the creatures’. Her muscles screamed with exertion, her lungs struggling to draw breath through the irritating piece of cloth she insisted on wearing at all times. If they saw her face now and decided to cut her down, she would barely be able to lift a finger against them. No, this was the price she paid.

Through the sea of undead pushing Gwen back, she saw her companions pulled further into the room, leaving her and three skeletal warriors pressing in on her.

But Gwen was not a quitter. She hadn’t made it this far, through all of the utter shit life had thrown at her, just to end up bleeding out on some pompous noble’s stone floor, killed by a creature made up of decaying skin and bones. Her body was a vessel of unbridled rage, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. She refused to accept defeat, determined to fight until the bitter end.

A snarl ripped out of her throat as she crouched, analyzing the corpses' weak points, their exposed spines glinting in the torchlight. She lunged at the nearest undead creature, driving her dagger deep into its rib cage and slicing through the thick bone with a sickening crunch. With one swift motion, she severed the body in half as it collapsed to the ground, its lifeless limbs clattering against the stone floor.

However, there were still two more creatures to deal with. These two were faster than the previous one Gwen had just taken down. Or perhaps she was just getting slower as she was worn down fight after fight.

The sharp edge of a sword sliced into Gwen's left wrist, causing her to scream in agony as she lost her grip on her dagger. She stumbled backwards, pressing her back against the unyielding wall as she gasped for air, her injured arm trembling with pain and shock. With her remaining strength, she brandished her other dagger in a desperate warning to stay away, lest she tear them apart like she had with the first of their comrades. But the dead did not listen to the living.

The corpse kicked her dropped dagger across the room where it slid under a large wooden cabinet. She swore under her breath, having been trying to figure out how to reach it, but there was no reaching it now. She had one less weapon and a useless arm as blood flowed from the wound that had sliced down to the bone. She glanced briefly towards the door leading to the other room, but all she could see was more undead flailing their weapons, her companions were nowhere in sight, but the sound of their combat reached her keen ears. She would have prayed for their safety but with her luck that would only spell their downfall.

The corpse closest to her, the bigger of the two, lashed out with its rusted long sword, aiming directly for her neck. Gwen ducked, rolling to the side, only to hit a surprisingly sturdy body that reeked of death and had her swallowing back a retch.

She had been right earlier, she was slower, they were faster, and smarter than the previous undead she’d fought. They had anticipated her move and the smaller corpse had rushed over to stand in her way, jostling her and abruptly disrupting her movement, unbalancing her as panic shot through her limbs like lightning.

She sucked in a breath of shock as her body recoiled - immediately regretting it as her stomach roiled with the stench wafting off their bodies - pain flaring up her previously uninjured arm, sharp and hot as metal tore through her shoulder. They’d trapped her and rendered her arms useless all within the span of a few seconds. She couldn’t let them get that many hits on her without retaliation or she was sure she would lose. With a surge of adrenaline, she swung blindly in front of her, striking something solid before feeling the satisfying resistance of flesh and bone as the blade buried itself deep into her attacker's chest.

Her knees buckled, her body hitting the ground and she barely managed to roll out of the way of another slash, her dagger now stuck in the crumbling body of the undead she’d just killed. At least her arm had lasted long enough to get one last good hit in.

Her arms trembled and burned with agony as she pushed herself up from the hard ground, her fingers digging into the dirt for support. Each movement caused a searing pain to shoot through her limbs, as if they were being torn apart from the inside. The fire continued to spread through her body, making it difficult to focus on anything else but the intense agony. She knew she needed to move, to defend herself, but each second felt like an eternity as the pain consumed her. Maker, did she ever hate these blasted creatures.

The corpse closed in on her, it had taken away her ability to defend herself and salivated at the thought of its assured victory. Or at least, that’s what it believed. It may have been smarter than most undead she’d faced, but even mortals often failed to realize what she kept hidden under her bandana.

She smiled to herself, like the Void she’d let this be her end.

With one firm tug from her least injured hand, the bandana hung around her neck, revealing her face to the creature charging at her. It did not falter, for it did not know fear, but even if it had, it would not have changed its fate. Gwen hissed, lowering herself to her haunches, looking all the more feral as she brandished her hidden weapon, the reason for her reclusiveness, and the years of memories from childhood she’d banished away to the darkest recesses of her mind. Her greatest shame and her best weapon.

Her large teeth glinted in the low light, sharp as the canines of a wolf, gritted together as she snarled. Her lips parted and so too did the flesh of her cheeks, the muscle and skin splitting in a grotesque charade of a smile until it stopped below her cheekbones. And when she let her jaw gape wide, like that of a snake’s before it devoured its prey, much wider than any human should be capable of, she sprang forth, pushing herself off the wall using the strength that still resided in her legs to kick the remaining corpse square in his chest, toppling it to the ground.

Gwen didn’t have the balance she needed to stay standing on its chest, but she didn’t need to. She pressed her knees against its writhing body and with primal ferocity, she sank her teeth into its neck, feeling the satisfying crunch of vertebrae between her jaws. She ripped back with all her might until the sound of tearing flesh drowned out all other noise. A vile taste filled her mouth - the long rotten blood of her enemy - as she clutched its severed head in her gaping maw, triumphant and unstoppable.

She spat the head onto the ground, gagging as the taste of mildew and gore filled her senses. She hunched over, her arms cradled to her stomach as she tried not to empty its contents. Her teeth were coated in a thick layer of black blood, dripping down her chin in a macabre display. Though she was a terrifying sight, at least she was still alive, her survival hard-won and evident in the fierce glint in her eyes as she surveyed the carnage around her.

“Gwen!” She heard Alistair shout her name, armoured footsteps pounding as he ran towards her. In her exhausted and nauseated daze, it took her a moment to realize that her face was bare and covered in evidence of her brutality.

No, no, no. He can’t see me like this, if he does he’ll know what I am, he’ll know I am a monster, and he’ll kill me without hesitation. Gwen thought in a panic as she scrambled, her bleeding and broken arms as coordinated as a doe learning to walk, barely managing to pull the cloth over her face a fraction of a second before Alistair burst through the doorway, sword and shield in hand as he surveyed the room and the carnage she had unleashed.

She watched him, panting from her hunched-over position, her eyes dull and her legs ready to spring forth and run should he turn his weapons on her.

Alistair’s jaw dropped. Darcy appeared at his side, wielding his dual swords, and let out a low whistle. “You know how to put up a good fight.”

“I have no intentions of dying today.” Gwen winced as her arms prickled with pain. Barkspawn peeked out from behind Darcy’s legs, tilting his head at her as though he didn’t understand what she was doing on the ground.

“Did you rip its head off?” Darcy asked with far too much glee in his voice.

“Do all Grey Wardens enjoy such violence or is it just the two of you?” Gwen deflected stonily. She could let him think she ripped its head off as long as he thought it was with her hands, and not her rather sharp teeth.

Darcy’s smile faltered and Alistair grimaced as he walked towards her, “We’re the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden, so in a way, you’re correct.” He said quietly, crouching beside her and putting a hand on her elbow with a gentleness she had not expected. He looked at her in question and she realized he was offering to help her stand.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen had no idea how to react in this situation, people didn’t usually come to her with their grief. They carried sorrowful expressions on their faces, their eyes downcast and their shoulders slumped. Despite their attempts to mask it, the sharpness of this loss was written all over their faces. Even Barkspawn's normally playful demeanour seemed subdued.

“No good heroes have happy backstories,” Darcy joked, though it fell flat. Gwen averted her gaze and allowed Alistair to help her up. He wrapped his arm under her shoulders as he walked her forward. She leaned more of her weight on him than she wanted to, but it was either that or pass out as the blood rushed to her toes and her vision swam, the whispers that plagued her ringing louder in her ears. Alistair pursued his lips as he watched her.

“No poisoned health potions to offer this time?” She wanted him to stop watching her with such intent concern, and given his penchant for making light of all situations, she reasoned a joke would distract him sufficiently.

The crease in Alistair’s brow eased as the corner of his lips quirked up, “You can borrow some of Morrigan’s.”

“None shall borrow anything of mine, lest they risk losing a hand,” Morrigan called from somewhere in the other room, having not bothered to come check on Gwen. She didn’t mind, it was clear that she preferred solitary company and was not used to being around others. As someone who often kept to herself, Gwen could understand the witch's behaviour. This experience was new for her, to be a part of a group, even if it was only temporary. Most people did not take too kindly to the quiet rogue who refused to show her face and she doubted it would take long before they started asking questions she was unwilling to answer.

“I borrow her brush when she’s not looking to give Barkspawn a good grooming,” Alistair whispered conspiratorially.

Gwen chuckled, “As long as you don’t drop me, your secret is safe with me.”

Alistair grinned, “Deal.”

Next Chapter

A/N: RIP Gwen, you would have loved straws (The meme format, not cause im gonna kill her, I promise)

#angst with a happy ending #slow burn #fluff #eventual smut #falling in love #humour #alistair x original character #alistair dao #alistair dragon age #alistair theirin #Alistair x OC #Gwen

[tired-truffle]

Masterlist

Arcane

Můj Miláček: A Viktorxfem!Reader Fic

Complete!

Started: February 3rd, 2022

Updated: June 23, 2022

Word Count: 73.7k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16)

Oneshots For Můj Miláček:

A Boy From Your Dreams

What Could Have Been (But Never Was)

The Ghost of You

As the Seasons Change

Hold Me Close In Your Dreams

Art for Chapter 6

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Marvel

Rivers and Roads: A Lokixfem!Reader fic (18+)

Complete!

Started: July 23, 2022

Updated: August 30, 2022

Word Count: 57.6k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (Epilogue)

You Are My Synn: A LokixOC fic

Ongoing (Will be 20 Chapters total)

Started: July 27, 2022

Updated: August 1, 2022

Word Count: 10.9k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3)

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Villains and Virtues

The Art of Pointed Questions: DamienxAmma

Complete!

Word Count: 2.6k

Posted: January 10th, 2024

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Dragon Age

Yet Broken Still You Breathe: AlistairxOriginal Character

In Progress (Total will be 40 Chapters)

Word Count: 15.6k

Posted: April 6th, 2024

Updated: April 28th, 2024

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4)

Now with art!

#viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #no use of y/n #reader insert #masterlist #fanfic #slow burn #sky arcane #jayce talis #angst with a happy ending #viktor arcane #arcane fic #heimerdinger #falling in love #hurt/comfort #fluff fanfic #hurt loki #fluff #protective loki #loki needs a hug #loki x you #loki x reader #friends to lovers #thor is a good bro #loki fic recs #villains and virtues #damienxamma #AlistairxOriginal character #alistairxoc

[spoopyghostgirl]

Y'all this is the first chapter or Prologue

I have officially finished the first piece of my Dragon Age fanfiction.

It will be set during all three games, mainly focused on the first and third.

Will be

AlistairXOC WardenXCullen {Origins} w/some side Zevran

AlistairXoc InkyXCullen {Inquisition} w/some side Hawke + Solas

[INKY + WARDEN are the same person, my OC Peregrine Morningstar]

And some

JosephineXocXLeliana {Inquistion} (OC Ellowine Blacklight)

Word Count: 4337

Rating: T/ maybe a lil M?

So, without further delay, here we go!

"This is a bad idea, a really really bad idea," Ellowine spoke up, dark eyes running over the crouching girl before her. Peregrine rolled her eyes at her closest friends complaints, not needing to voice her annoyance when the apprentice beside her huffed.

"Ellowine, if I had known you were going to complain the whole time, I would have left you at home." Ellowine grumbled to herself, turning her back on her younger brother and his fellow apprentice.

"Left me at home, as if you could have snuck out without me knowing," Peregrine grinned, casting a glance in the older boys direction at his sisters pouting. Cassian rolled his eyes in exasperation, looking to Peregrine as if to communicate his reasoning for always excluding his older sibling. 'She's not that bad,' Peregrines eyes countered but Cassian wouldn't be convinced. Looking over their work, Peregrine smiled, the large white summoning circle before them having been drawn perfectly.

"Grin, are you sure you want to do this," yellow eyes met blue, a small frown pulling at the younger girls lips.

"Are you worried about me all of a sudden, Blacklight?" The older Tevinter flushed, hating how casually the white haired girl leaned into his personal space.

"No, its just," he pursed his lips in thought, light eyes moving from her face to the large circle behind her. "Even with the imperiums willingness to turn a blind eye to blood magic when it comes to people like us, the ritual could go poorly and...,"

"And one or both of you could die." Ellowine finished for him, placing a hand on her hip.

"Ellie," the brown haired girl looked away at her brothers growl, Peregrine shouldering the older boy lightly.

"Come on, you really think something is going to go wrong?" Peregrine joked, doing her best to ignore the small shiver that ran up her spine in anticipation.

"If it does, you'll be the one to suffer," she didn't argue, knowing that her blood would be used for the summoning. 'We are aiming to summon him,' Peregrine's thoughts moved to the book she had referenced to draw the circle. She had plucked it off of one of their newer slaves, a keeper, she remembered him proclaiming his title proudly. Those at the auction house didnt care what he was, they just knew he was magical and could be useful. And so, like any spoiled Tevinter mage, hoping to get the one up on her fellow mage, Peregrine purchased the man. After said purchase, she was very pleased to discover that being the Keeper of a clan meant that he knew far more than your average elf and did what the title implied and kept very important artifacts of his people. It hadn't been difficult for Peregrine to acquire the book from him, having listened to his peoples plight, and becoming close to him. He said it was the history of his people, the keeper having not realized the secrets held within. 'The secrets the touch of the right mage was able to pull from it,' Peregrine's fingers moving absently to brush against the tips of her ears. 'Elven blood,' she grimaced at the thought, thankful that her ears did not give away her impurities. 'Just my fair skin, conceringly slim frame, and weirdly colored eyes,'

"I know but... there is no sacrifice too great in the quest for knowledge." Ellowine and Cassian shared a look behind the white haired mages back. Ignoring the pair that she knew were worrying over her, Peregrine stepped into the circle, making her way to the center. Pulling an intricate silver dagger from the sleeve of her cloak, Peregrine held her hand up. Gritting her teeth she pressed the smooth blade against her palm, dragging it ritualistically across her skin. Closing her eyes against the pain, she cleared her mind. "Attenrobendum eos, ad consiendrum, ad ligandum eos, potiter et solvendum, et ad, congregontum eos, 'coram me," at first nothing happened, a frown pulling at her lips. 'What are we missing,' turning to face where her cohorts stood, she paled. "Cassian," she whirled around, hearing footsteps behind her. "Cassian this isn't," her words died on her lips.

She was not within her home, instead she found herself standing in a large beautiful courtyard. Yellow eyes moved quickly, Peregrine hoping to take in every detail of the place. Large pillars stood around her, with beautiful shrubbery, and fountains scattered around the large grounds. Nearest to her was a large man made pond with steps on each side leading into the water. In the center stood a statue, two figures, one man and one woman, reaching up towards the sky above them.

"These are the ruins Haros showed me in the fade," though the place she found herself in looked to be lived in, Peregrine waiting for one of the ancient elves to suddenly appear and chase her away.

"You would be correct in your observations, young one," Peregrine whirled around once more to find a man before her. 'Young, handsome, not even an elf,' the dark haired man chuckled, offering her a rather lopsided and flirty smile. "Not what you were expecting?" She could only arch a brow, his yellow eyes, eyes Peregrine suddenly realized perfectly reflected her own, crinkled in amusement.

"Does that mean you're-,"

"Elgar'nan?" He questioned lightly, coming to a halt standing before her. "Yes, and since you were able to call to me despite the veil that should be separating us, you must be a descendant of mine." His right hand moved, running up the side of her face and over her unpointed ear. "Though I am surprised that you do not appear to be more elven," ignoring how warm his fingers felt upon her flesh, Peregrine shook her head.

"My mother is an elf, or at least more elven than I. I assume it is her blood within my veins that made me able to call you to me." She felt him dip into her thoughts, a small smirk of satisfaction spreading across his lips.

"Yes, you are correct in your assumption, Peregrine Morningstar," he spoke her name like he was tasting a new food, mulling it over in his mouth. "Yes, that will do," he turned from her, a frown crawling across her lips.

"Where are you going," her body tensed, their surroundings suddenly shifting at his behest.

"Where are we going," he countered, the world barely settling before he was moving through it, Peregrines long legs carrying her swiftly after him. Doing her best to keep the strange man in her line of sight, Peregrine allowed her gaze to wander the palace they now found themselves in. It was beautiful, she admitted internally, missing the smirk that graced the mans lips before her. 'Yes, she will make the perfect host though she will be too powerful for me to fully control, it would be nice to get out of this place.'

Large murals stood against the large stone walls, depicting history she knew to be that of the ancient elves, some she had heard while others she was unfamiliar with. A dark wolf stood out to her, several red eyes placed upon its face that stared out at her, its tail wrapped around several other elves, as if shielding them from something. 'Or someone,' her yellow eyes moved across the wall, finding whatever had been threatening the wolves people having been blacked out. Looking forward, Peregrines lips dipped into a frown, unable to shake that the man before her or maybe one of his cohorts were the missing piece of the mural. Coming to a stop, the man stood before a large doubled door, large stain glassed panels covering each side. 'The two moons, and a sun above,' the moons were differently colored, one a deep silvery blue, the other a deep red. The sun hung like a golden halo above them, always watching and vigilant of what the two smaller planets partook in.' Elgar'nan grimaced, looking upon the sun, his father, the one who had... shaking his head, he raised his right hand. Peregrine watched a green light spread from his hand to the large door, first the sun then the two moons illuminating before the light shot straight down the seam of the door. It groaned loudly as it opened, Elgar'nan smiling as Peregrines face lit up.

"Wow," she breathed, yellow eyes bouncing from place to place as she took in the beauty that was the throne room. There were several more murals around the room, depicting the more popular tales of the ancient elven Gods, Peregrine doing her best to commit every detail to memory. To their right way a large balcony, Peregrine just being able to see that it overlooked the garden they had just been in while to the left was what looked to be a large mirror. She could feel the magic pouring from it, her feet carrying her absently toward it. "What is that song," Peregrine spoke softly, realizing a soft melody came from the magical object.

"It is called an Elluvian," Elgar'nan spoke gently, watching as Peregrine came to stop before it, her right hand raising to touch it. Gasping, the Elluvian came to life, Peregrine pulling her hand tightly against her chest. "It is a... door of sorts. My people once used them to travel beyond this world, beyond your world," yellow met yellow, the dark haired man offering her the same charming smile as before. "And it seems to be calling to you, though... it is too early for you to travel there. There is much you still need to learn," Peregrines brows cinched in confusion, Elgar'nan making no move to explain himself further. "Come now, Corculum," Peregrines cheeks flushed at the term of endearment, moving quickly to follow the man once more. Moving behind the large throne, the man raised his hand once more, Peregrine recognizing the shift in energy as he summoned his magic. Eyes widening, the wall opened, sliding down into the stone floor, Elgar'nan giving it minimal time to open before stepping through the opening. Peregrine once again quickly trailed after him, large blue fires igniting around them, and lighting the torches around them.

"Peregrine," he spoke after an elongated silence, pulling the yellow eyed teens eyes away from the intricately painted walls around them. "Have you ever heard the tale of Fen'Harel?" Peregrine remembered the name vaguely, the Keeper, Haros, having called him a trickster and a thief. Looking up, she found Elgar'nan watching her for a response, the mage quickly shaking her head. "Ah, I am, unsurprised. He is a wretch and his name should have been forgotten and slandered," Peregrine made no move to argue, coming to a halt at the bottom of the steps. Looking up she found another mural, several sconces surrounding the piece, Elgar'nan waving his hand to ignite them in blue fire. Her yellow eyes widened, finding the wolf once more, though he now had a human body, his head remaining that of a wolf. In his arms he clutched a beautiful woman, Elgar'nan's jaw clenching as he looked upon his love being held by the... traitor. "Long ago, long before the veil between our worlds was erected, Fen'Harel was a dear friend of mine, of my wifes." Her eyes widened as he spoke, Elgar'nan's hand moving out to trace the womans painted face. "She trusted him despite his questionable background and, because I loved her, I trusted him as well. For many years things were peaceful and our people flourished but our success didnt last long. Soon, Mythal started hiding things from me, the other Gods hearing whispers from our followers but I did not want to believe. They said Fen'Harel was trying to turn her against us and through her, our followers against us. It wasn't long before I had to confront her. She denied that anything was happening but disappeared shortly after. When I went to find her I... I found them together. Mythal was dead in his arms. He tried to claim that the others turned against her and slayed her but I would not be lied to any longer. We fought and when he was about to fall, he cast up the veil, severing our connection to our followers and the living world." Elgar'nan trembled, Peregrine finding herself stepping forward and placing her hand on his bicep. "You know, you remind me of her," she flushed as he turned his full attention on her. "She was kind, determined, intelligent, and powerful. She saved me from becoming my father and in turn earned my love and devotion. She was everything I could have ever asked for and that... that Harellan took her from me." Her hand moved from his arm to his face, his yellow eyes closing at the contact.

"Ir abelas, ma vhenan," Peregrine's eyes widened as the elvhen words slipped from her tongue. Smiling, Elgar'nan pressed his lips into her palm, taking her hand in his.

"This place calls to you, doesn't it? That's why the words come so easily to you." He turned her hand over in his, his pointer finger dragging over the lines of her left palm. "One day soon, ma vhenan, you will become someone great, someone who will change the world. I wish to follow you along your journeys, if you will allow me." Yellow eyes narrowed in confusion, Elgar'nan finding his eyes meeting hers in her silence.

"What, so you want to possess me?" His grip loosened, allowing her to easily pull her hand away.

"Not at all, ma vhenan, I merely wish to give you my powers in exchange for you allowing me to see through your eyes. I would never wish to possess you. To possess you, you would cease to exist and I would never do that, especially now, after all this time I've waited for you." Her fingers dug into her left palm, finding herself suddenly uncomfortable with the attention he had shown it.

"Waited for me," he hummed in acknowledgement, taking small deliberate steps toward her.

"Yes, I knew one day you would come. That one day someone like her, someone like me," he admitted softly, knowing that they were far more similar than she was to Mythal. "Would come and then... then we would be able to fix everything. To end Fen'Harel and give the magic that he stole from the world back. And maybe... in ending him, a piece of her may be returned to me...," her eyes dropped from his, unable to face the raw emotion in his eyes. She understood his pain, her own first love, Ellowine, having fallen ill when they were still quite young. 'Soul sickness,' for some reason the small piece of her that was able to connect to the fade was being poisoned and it would soon kill her. Elgar'nan watched the cogs turning in her head, his right hand moving to cup her face, forcing their eyes to meet.

"Your power," he nodded, "there is someone... someone that I love. She is sick and I wish to cure her... is that... could you...,"

"I knew of her ailment, ma vhenan, as soon as you opened yourself to me. If you bind yourself to her, she will be able to live. If you destroy the bond it will kill her but, from the look in your eyes, there would never be anything she could do against you that would cause you to raise your weapon to her." Peregrine blushed at how obvious her feelings were, "do not be ashamed. Mythal was my first love, just as she is yours but that does not she will be your last. Remember, Peregrine, you are meant for great things. Do not let the infatuation of your youth blind you from that," Peregrine merely nodded. She had been told that her whole life, and knowing her father, she would never be allowed to be Ellowine. 'Too fragile, and sickly, she could never give us a powerful heir.' Shaking her head, she found Elgar'nan smiling, a strand of her long white hair held between his finger tips. "Does this mean you will accept me, Peregrine," she looked into his eyes before her gaze moved, landing on the mural on the way behind him. One look into those burning red eyes of Fen'Harel and she knew her answer.

"Yes, Ma'sal'shiral, I accept you," Elgar'nans smile was too bright, Peregrine decided, her eyes squinting as if she were looking at the sun.

"Then we shall seal this with a kiss," her cheeks flushed, Elgar'nan chuckling at her sudden embarrassment. "Come now, Fenorain, I was only teasing," he took her hand in his, quickly guiding them up the steps they had come down. "For someone who has as much as experience as you, you flush easily," he continued lightly, Peregrine shouldering him as they entered the throne room, Peregrine finding the pond from outside in the center of the room. Peregrine hesitated, stopping both her and the man who held her hand. "Come, Fenorain, you must drink from the pool for us to join," he released her hand, continuing without her. He began disrobing, Peregrine watching the muscles move under his tanned skin. Shaking her head, she moved to follow, her hands moving other her clothing. First came her black leather jacket, a long, knee length jacket that supplied light armor. She made quick work of the buttons, yellow eyes running over the red embroidery on the back of the jacket, showing her familial crest before she tugged her black long sleeved and V'd shirt over her head. Next came her knee high black boots before she tugged off her black breeches. Elgar'nan watched her from the waist deep water, yellow eyes taking in the young woman before him. 'Beautiful,' she moved toward him, still in her smalls, a small laugh leaving his lips when she noted his had been discarded. Shaking herself, she removed her smalls, dropping them on top of the pile of his clothing. Stepping into the water, she took the hand that was offered to her, allowing him to pull her into the water. It shimmered around her, hues of gold and red twirling around her body as she moved through the water, toward the center. Looking down, she found that the bottom if the pool was covered in an gold and jewels, a large red moon sitting at the center.

"Wow," her voice was barely above a whisper, yellow eyes moving from the floor to the smiling man. "This place is...," she shook her head, unable to find the words to express herself.

"It is yours now," he spoke simply, "consider it a Haven. Whenever you are danger, know that you merely need to call to me and you will be welcome home." Her brow quirked but Elgar'nan stood by his statement, having known the moment she had been born into this world that she would be his for eternity. "Now come, my love," she looked down at the shifting waters, her hands cupping. Lifting the water up, she shivered, feeling the seductive pull of the power it offered. Meeting his gaze, she raised her hands to her lips and drank deeply. Elgar'nan could only smile, Peregrine's body tensing before everything changed. She first felt the power, overwhelming her, and drowning out her senses. It was too much, she realized, her body swaying. Elgar'nan caught her easily enough, his hands warm against her clammy skin. Her forehead pressed to his bare chest, her skin glowing a brilliant shade of gold, his power showing itself before it slowly settled. 'Her body accepted my power,' Peregrine opened her eyes, her normally white sclera now a deep black, her yellow eyes having also darkened to something harder. "How do you feel," his voice trembled in anticipation, her head tilting back so she could look into his warm eyes.

"I feel... I've never felt this good in my life. So much power... it's... it's...," her body swayed, her eyes suddenly rolling back in her head. Elgar'nan swept the naked girl up into his arms with ease, a small chuckle leaving his lips.

"It's too much, yes, but you will learn to control and wield it for you are my chosen one. Ma'sal'shiral," he spoke the term she had called him softly, finding it fitting. "But for now, you must rest, and then I will return you to your dear friends."

Peregrine awoke in a warm bed, an equally and pleasingly warm body pressed against hers. Shifting, her yellow eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the warm light that poured into the room from the open balcony. Sitting up, the body behind her grumbled, Peregrine grinning before reaching up to rub her yellow eyes. Once they opened again, her body tensed, suddenly realizing that this wasnt her bedroom.

"Good morning, Ma'sal'shiral," she turned to find Elgar'nan in the bed beside her, a sleepy smile upon his handsome face. "Did you sleep well," he sat up, revealing that he was still naked, Peregrine flushing when she noted she was as well.

"Yes, though I do not recall how I ended up in your bed," he chuckled at her frown, his finger tips brushing her cheek.

"Do not fret, Ma'sal'shiral, you fainted after the joining, which gave your body time to rest and adjust to the power that you now possess. I merely brought you here to rest, feeling quite drained myself," she leaned forward, resting their foreheads together. "But I know you must return to them. If you wish to save Ellowine, you must make the pact soon," Peregrine nodded, pushing herself to her feet, yellow eyes scanning the room for her clothes. She moved to continue her search, only to stop short, yellow eyes landing on a set of finely crafted armor. "That is the armor of our people. I created it for you while you rested. You do not need to wear it now but I hope that you take it with you and one day, wear the armor to represent our people and our connection." Peregrine flushed at the sincerity in his voice, moving to quickly grab her old clothes and pull them on. Once she finished, she turned to find Elgar'nan dressed as well. 'Its part of a set,' she noted, finding him wearing almost the same exact armor. Waving his hand, she watched as the armor he offered her condensed, shrinking in size. "Consider this another gift," he pulled a small purse from his robes, picking up the miniaturized armor and slipping it into the pouch. "It is a bottomless sack. You will be able to store whatever you wish in it and call upon it when you need. A magister created it many lifetimes ago and offered it to me as a gift. I believe you will have a better use for it now."

"Thank you, this gift... these gifts, are too much. I will never be able to thank you, Ma'sal'shiral." Smiling, Elgar'nan pressed the pouch into her gloved hands, securing her fingers around it.

"You already have. You have given me hope. Hope that I thought I lost centuries ago. It is I, who will never be able to thank you." Yellow eyes softening, Peregrine leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. "Now go, you must return before I convince myself to convince you to stay." She laughed at that, allowing Elgar'nan to laced their fingers together. Leading her out of the bedroom, Peregrine was led through a winding set of corridors before coming before another Elluvian.

"This is not the same one as before," she could feel the magic that stirred within the one before her. "This will take me home," Elgar'nan smiled, his fingertips brushing against her cheek, drawing her eyes to his.

"Yes, you will appear within the summoning circle. The time that passed there will feel like mere minutes to your friends. They will not know that you were here for three days," she opened then closed her mouth, knowing that some time had to have passed while she was unconscious. Turning back to the Elluvian, Peregrine waved her hand, watching it snap to life. Unsure what to say, she moved to leave without a goodbye, only for his hand to close around her wrist. "Ar lasa mala revas," he spoke gently, their yellow eyes meeting. "But soon... things will change. You will be put on a path that will not always be kind to you, Ma'sal'shiral. I will do all that I can to help you," Peregrine nodded, searching his face. "But somethings... somethings will need to happen to make you stronger. Know that I believe in you and know that I will not allow anything that you can not handle come your way." Leaning forward, he pressed their foreheads together. "Ar lath ma, vhenan," he spoke gently, Peregrine tilting her head to brush her lips against his. Elgar'nans eyes flashed open but the white haired man had already pulled back, now standing at the mouth of the Elluvian.

"Until we meet again, Amatus," Elgar'nans heart ached, watching her slip away.

"Until we meet again, Fenorain."

Peregrine appeared within the circle, crackles of magical energy bursting around her.

"Peregrine," Cassian moved into the circle without hesitation, Peregrine squeaking as he crashed firmly into her. "Are you alright, what happened? You completely vanished and I-," he stopped suddenly, feeling the new and dark energy that sizzled under her skin. "You were successful," she could hear the edge to his voice,

"Yes. I was able to make contact with him and I believe I know a way to save Ellowine."

"No," Ellowine spoke up, wise eyed. "You did this for me," she shook her head, Peregrine noting the way Cassian looked at her.

"Yes. I had hoped that whoever I reached would offer guidance or help and they did. Now, Ellowine, I need you to hold out your hand and join me in the circle."

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