Well, I got lazy this week so here is a fill for Giggle's prompt from last week:
It Was the Hardest Thing I Ever Did in My Entire Life
Dan, Alistair, Sten, Oghren, and Zevran sat around the main camp fire after the evening meal. Each man enjoying a mug of their favorite spirits from Oghren's stash. The past week had been mostly uneventful as they made their way from Orzammar south to the town of Honnleath. They were heading that direction to investigate the rumor of a lost golem in the area. They had obtained a control rod from a travelling merchant near Sulcher's Pass, and decided after the travels in the Deep Roads a golem would be a handy resource to have at their disposal.
Dan picked up his family sword and began sharpening the blade. "You know, the hardest thing I ever did was leave my mother behind the night our castle fell to Howe," he stated as he broke the group's silence.
The others looked at Dan, and Sten remarked, "the hardest thing I ever did was leave my homeland to come to this country."
"The hardest thing I ever did is still too fresh and painful to say. I am just not ready to confront it, yet." followed Zevran.
Alistair looked at the other men sharing their thoughts. "When we returned to Ostagar and found Cailan's body. I didn't know him very well, but he was still my brother. Building his funeral pyre was the hardest thing I have ever done. I just wish we could have found Duncan's body as well."
The other men nodded as Oghren let out a loud belch. They shifted their attention to Oghren with puzzled looks at the dwarf's poor timing. "What? You want me to get all sappy now?" was his reply.
"Well, what was the hardest thing you have ever done?" asked Alistair.
"Huh?! Oh...I lost a fight. "
"Oh? This should be good. Tell us more, please," queried Zevran.
"Well, I went to see this girl I knew back in Orzammar, you see. This was all after Branka went all crazy looking for the Anvil. Well, I went to her parents place to see her, and this roast starting giving me the 'eye' as soon as I walked in the door."
"Get on to the fight, dwarf." barked Sten.
"I'm getting there...I'm getting there. Hold your britches on. Now where was I...oh yes...so this roast starts giving me the 'eye'. Well, I can't stand that, so I take it down. It was tougher than I thought. It beat me down pretty good."
"What?!" exclaimed the other four in unison. "You got into a fight with..with...food?" Dan asked.
"I told you it was giving me the 'eye' and no one gives me the 'eye.'"
Alistair and Zevran looked at each other, and then back to Oghren both asking, "and you lost?!"
"It was a sodding good roast! It cheated anyway. How can you keep giving the 'eye' during a fight?"
Dan, Alistair, and Zevran burst into laughter as Sten simply shook his head. All of this infuriated Oghren.
"Ah..laugh all you want..I swear that fight was rigged!"
He got up from his seat and stormed off leaving the others behind. Only Sten was not laughing as he stated, "Only in Ferelden."
The Alistair Gush Thread: *Squee*
Débuté par
SurelyForth
, août 10 2010 01:57
Retour en haut
#30427
Posté 05 février 2011 - 07:29
Catspaw
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LOL Rage!! That was hilarious. Sounds like a dinner with my brothers.
#30429
Posté 05 février 2011 - 07:50
Yankee23
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@Cat...Rage asked me to share some yummy with you.
And some Alistair for topic...
And some Alistair for topic...
Modifié par Yankee23, 05 février 2011 - 07:54 .
#30430
Posté 05 février 2011 - 08:00
Reika
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I love the picture of Alistair, Yankee. 
#30431
Posté 05 février 2011 - 08:24
Reika
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Prompt: A Moment So Powerful It Touches One Soul.
“What’s this?” Alistair asked curiously as Lana held out her cupped hands gently cradling something that shone brightly in the rays of the setting sun. Their group of misfits had just finished setting up camp when the young woman asked to speak to her fellow Warden privately. Baffled, he’d walked with her to the opposite end of the clearing the camp was in. That was when she carefully pulled out a small bag that she pulled the mysterious object out and now was holding it out to him.
She gave him a surprisingly shy smile, “Something I think you’d like to have.”
It wasn’t unusual for her to give random things to her companions that she thought they might like. When asked about why she sought out gifts, Lana’s response had been, “These are dark times, if I can give someone something to brighten up their life even a little, it’s worth it, right?”
And right at this moment, he was feeling a bit of nervous flattery that she had her hair tied up with the blue ribbons he’d gotten for her a few days before at Redcliffe. He’d realized as Marlana was browsing through a merchant’s wares that while she would look for things for the others, no one seemed to give her anything. He’d wanted to get her something, but didn’t have a clue as to what he could get her. While she listened to everyone else, she wasn’t the type to really open up to anyone else.
It was when she was trying to persuade Leliana, then Wynne, to help her cut her hair, that he started to have a vague idea what to get her. Both of the older women had been horrified at the thought of chopping off her lovely hair, which was her sole source of feminine vanity. He’d been as equally horrified at the thought, but hadn’t dared voice it. So when he saw the ribbons at the merchant’s stall, he thought it would be an elegant solution. They’d allow her to keep her hair long by letting her keep it neatly wrapped up for travel and battle.
Initially when he gave her the small bundle of ribbons, he’d felt like a foolish boy trying to impress the pretty girl that would never notice him. But the delight in her eyes at his gift had gone a long ways to make up for that embarrassment.
Now she was giving him another gift, but he couldn’t understand why it had to be private. Normally she would just give what she found to that person wherever they happened to be in camp. And for some reason she seemed incredibly nervous giving this gift to him. Until he carefully picked up the metallic object that was slightly warm from her touch and realized that it was a silver amulet. One that had seen better days judging from the mended cracks…
Alistair tried swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. It was his mother’s amulet, the one he’d destroyed in a fit of temper when he was told he was going to the chantry. Someone had gathered all the pieces and painstakingly put it back together. The glue was long dried so it hadn’t been Lana who had repaired it so he wondered who had gone to such lengths.
Finally he found his voice, even though it was rough with emotions and wonder, “This… This is my mother’s amulet?”
She nodded mutely, sapphire eyes still nervous.
“Where did you find it?”
Her voice was so soft that it was difficult to hear her response, “I found it in Eamon’s study when we were clearing the castle out of the undead.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say. “And you found it like it is now?”
Another silent nod.
“Huh, I wonder why he did that?” He truly did wonder, Alistair thought the Arl had given up on him after his behavior towards the man the few times Eamon had gone to see him.
“Maybe you meant more to him than you realized?”
He looked down at the amulet feeling more than a little troubled, “I’ll have to ask him if, no, when he recovers.”
“Where there’s life there’s hope, Alistair.” He smiled at the tone in her voice, besides the meaning of one of her favorite encouraging phrases, as he put the chain around his neck. It was a little tighter than he cared for, but it wasn’t too tight to choke him in combat. The next decent sized town they were in, he’d see if he could find something that was longer. Then another thought struck him.
“How did you know what this is?”
Lana scuffed one foot nervously as she clasped her hands behind her, “I remember you telling me how bad you felt about breaking it. When I saw it, I thought that it might yours.”
Alistair was shocked, after all she’d done so far, this touched him the most. During the trip from the Tower to Redcliffe, he’d told her about Eamon raising him and his fit of rage at being sent to the Chantry. At the time she’d been warmly understanding, but under that understanding there’d been a hint of anger, but not directed at him. When Isolde showed up after they defended the town, he’d realized who that anger was directed at.
He’d been somewhat surprised at her reaction to Isolde, particularly since it was clear that Marlana wanted to kill the Arlessa, and didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until they were in the stables that he’d grown up in that he’d slowly began to understand, with Leliana’s help, that he meant something to Lana as the possibility of being more than just a friend and fellow Warden, hence her reaction to Isolde.
Still, Alistair was amazed that she remembered his mother’s amulet.
He cleared his throat again, “You remembered that? Really?”
“Well, yes.” Alistair blinked a little as a faint blush began to creep across her cheeks, “You… mean a lot to me and when I saw it I figured it was yours. Well, hoped it was anyway.”
Ever since Lothering… No, he corrected himself. Ever since their time in the Korcari Wilds, he’d occasionally entertain thoughts of kissing her, but in that moment he felt the urge to scoop her up and kiss her. Yet, he wanted that kiss to mean more than just a simple thank you. Instead he fell back on his sense of humor to lighten up the moment. He grinned, “Wow, well, right now I could dance in celebration! Bring on the minstrels!”
She grinned back, bright blue eyes dancing, “Well, I’m sure we could persuade Leliana to play a tune or two.”
He bowed to her then held out his arm, “In that case, would my lady do the honor of giving me the first dance?”
As Lana slid her arm into his with a cautious, but sweet smile, he really did feel like dancing as he escorted her back to the rest of the camp. He’d always heard about one’s soul being touched , yet never believed it. But now...now Alistair felt like she’d not only touched a part of his soul, it felt like a long open wound was starting to heal from that touch.
“What’s this?” Alistair asked curiously as Lana held out her cupped hands gently cradling something that shone brightly in the rays of the setting sun. Their group of misfits had just finished setting up camp when the young woman asked to speak to her fellow Warden privately. Baffled, he’d walked with her to the opposite end of the clearing the camp was in. That was when she carefully pulled out a small bag that she pulled the mysterious object out and now was holding it out to him.
She gave him a surprisingly shy smile, “Something I think you’d like to have.”
It wasn’t unusual for her to give random things to her companions that she thought they might like. When asked about why she sought out gifts, Lana’s response had been, “These are dark times, if I can give someone something to brighten up their life even a little, it’s worth it, right?”
And right at this moment, he was feeling a bit of nervous flattery that she had her hair tied up with the blue ribbons he’d gotten for her a few days before at Redcliffe. He’d realized as Marlana was browsing through a merchant’s wares that while she would look for things for the others, no one seemed to give her anything. He’d wanted to get her something, but didn’t have a clue as to what he could get her. While she listened to everyone else, she wasn’t the type to really open up to anyone else.
It was when she was trying to persuade Leliana, then Wynne, to help her cut her hair, that he started to have a vague idea what to get her. Both of the older women had been horrified at the thought of chopping off her lovely hair, which was her sole source of feminine vanity. He’d been as equally horrified at the thought, but hadn’t dared voice it. So when he saw the ribbons at the merchant’s stall, he thought it would be an elegant solution. They’d allow her to keep her hair long by letting her keep it neatly wrapped up for travel and battle.
Initially when he gave her the small bundle of ribbons, he’d felt like a foolish boy trying to impress the pretty girl that would never notice him. But the delight in her eyes at his gift had gone a long ways to make up for that embarrassment.
Now she was giving him another gift, but he couldn’t understand why it had to be private. Normally she would just give what she found to that person wherever they happened to be in camp. And for some reason she seemed incredibly nervous giving this gift to him. Until he carefully picked up the metallic object that was slightly warm from her touch and realized that it was a silver amulet. One that had seen better days judging from the mended cracks…
Alistair tried swallowing the lump that suddenly formed in his throat. It was his mother’s amulet, the one he’d destroyed in a fit of temper when he was told he was going to the chantry. Someone had gathered all the pieces and painstakingly put it back together. The glue was long dried so it hadn’t been Lana who had repaired it so he wondered who had gone to such lengths.
Finally he found his voice, even though it was rough with emotions and wonder, “This… This is my mother’s amulet?”
She nodded mutely, sapphire eyes still nervous.
“Where did you find it?”
Her voice was so soft that it was difficult to hear her response, “I found it in Eamon’s study when we were clearing the castle out of the undead.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know what to say. “And you found it like it is now?”
Another silent nod.
“Huh, I wonder why he did that?” He truly did wonder, Alistair thought the Arl had given up on him after his behavior towards the man the few times Eamon had gone to see him.
“Maybe you meant more to him than you realized?”
He looked down at the amulet feeling more than a little troubled, “I’ll have to ask him if, no, when he recovers.”
“Where there’s life there’s hope, Alistair.” He smiled at the tone in her voice, besides the meaning of one of her favorite encouraging phrases, as he put the chain around his neck. It was a little tighter than he cared for, but it wasn’t too tight to choke him in combat. The next decent sized town they were in, he’d see if he could find something that was longer. Then another thought struck him.
“How did you know what this is?”
Lana scuffed one foot nervously as she clasped her hands behind her, “I remember you telling me how bad you felt about breaking it. When I saw it, I thought that it might yours.”
Alistair was shocked, after all she’d done so far, this touched him the most. During the trip from the Tower to Redcliffe, he’d told her about Eamon raising him and his fit of rage at being sent to the Chantry. At the time she’d been warmly understanding, but under that understanding there’d been a hint of anger, but not directed at him. When Isolde showed up after they defended the town, he’d realized who that anger was directed at.
He’d been somewhat surprised at her reaction to Isolde, particularly since it was clear that Marlana wanted to kill the Arlessa, and didn’t understand why. It wasn’t until they were in the stables that he’d grown up in that he’d slowly began to understand, with Leliana’s help, that he meant something to Lana as the possibility of being more than just a friend and fellow Warden, hence her reaction to Isolde.
Still, Alistair was amazed that she remembered his mother’s amulet.
He cleared his throat again, “You remembered that? Really?”
“Well, yes.” Alistair blinked a little as a faint blush began to creep across her cheeks, “You… mean a lot to me and when I saw it I figured it was yours. Well, hoped it was anyway.”
Ever since Lothering… No, he corrected himself. Ever since their time in the Korcari Wilds, he’d occasionally entertain thoughts of kissing her, but in that moment he felt the urge to scoop her up and kiss her. Yet, he wanted that kiss to mean more than just a simple thank you. Instead he fell back on his sense of humor to lighten up the moment. He grinned, “Wow, well, right now I could dance in celebration! Bring on the minstrels!”
She grinned back, bright blue eyes dancing, “Well, I’m sure we could persuade Leliana to play a tune or two.”
He bowed to her then held out his arm, “In that case, would my lady do the honor of giving me the first dance?”
As Lana slid her arm into his with a cautious, but sweet smile, he really did feel like dancing as he escorted her back to the rest of the camp. He’d always heard about one’s soul being touched , yet never believed it. But now...now Alistair felt like she’d not only touched a part of his soul, it felt like a long open wound was starting to heal from that touch.
#30432
Posté 05 février 2011 - 08:47
RagingCyclone
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That was really good, Reika. And I can completely see Alistair not kissing her at that moment. Love it.
#30434
Posté 05 février 2011 - 08:54
Reika
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Thanks, you two.
I was trying to rack my brain for something when I realized I never wrote up the bit about his mother's amulet.
I was trying to rack my brain for something when I realized I never wrote up the bit about his mother's amulet.
#30435
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:00
Zjarcal
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Maria13 wrote...
Suppose the companions had a say in the Loghain execution/recruitment issue at the Landsmeet who would come out in Alistair's favour and who would be against or neutral... What arguments would they make? What would they say?
Sten would be totally in favor.
Leli too, she always vouches for people being given second chances (Jowan, Zevran).
Oghren... based on his only banter with Loghain doesn't seem too happy with him, so I'd say no?
Morrigan... not sure. She thinks Loghain is an improvement over Alistair, but that doesn't mean she necessarily likes him or trusts him. I can't say on this one really.
Shale.. against it I think.
Zevran... probably careless about it.
Wynne... heh, do I need to say?
Dog... ok, he never chimes in but he'd be totally up for it! :happy:
Modifié par Zjarcal, 05 février 2011 - 09:00 .
#30436
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:01
Giggles_Manically
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Zevran does argue to spare the Dalish and the Mages though I think.
I am pretty sure that he would argue for Loghain to get the same chance.
Working on my prompt.
I am pretty sure that he would argue for Loghain to get the same chance.
Working on my prompt.
#30437
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:12
Tigress M
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@Rage - That was so funny! Only Oghren could get beaten my a dead animal and not see the humor.
@Reika - Lovely. I always wanted that scene to be more fleshed out and you've done a fine job with it.
@Reika - Lovely. I always wanted that scene to be more fleshed out and you've done a fine job with it.
#30438
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:50
Sarah1281
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Merilsell wrote...
Aye, haven't seen KoP around lately. Who is next in the list? Maybe she can give an official prompt...or we simply need to extent our list of the constant prompters.
This is the official list:
Sarah1281
Merilsell
Skyl4rk
KnightofPhoenix
Tigress M
klarabella
I know Knight couldn't think of anything last week. I don't remember if he committed to coming up with one for this week, though, or if Tigress should have given one.
#30439
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:55
Tigress M
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I'll be happy to come up with a prompt. If we don't hear from KoP soon, I'll plop one out for us.
#30440
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:57
Catspaw
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@ Reika, that was lovely. So innocent.
@Yankee and Rage - Yummy!!! My internet is really slow so as the picture was slowly loading, I kept wishing it would keep going just...a...little...bit...farther.....!
Such a nice treat!!! That's the kind of "clothing" - or lack thereof, I meant! Thanks!!!!
edit for clothing.....NOT
@Yankee and Rage - Yummy!!! My internet is really slow so as the picture was slowly loading, I kept wishing it would keep going just...a...little...bit...farther.....!
Such a nice treat!!! That's the kind of "clothing" - or lack thereof, I meant! Thanks!!!!
edit for clothing.....NOT
Modifié par Catspaw, 05 février 2011 - 10:00 .
#30441
Posté 05 février 2011 - 09:58
KnightofPhoenix
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I guess I have an idea. Should I post it now?
Not sure if people are going to like it.
Not sure if people are going to like it.
#30443
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:03
LadyDamodred
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A moment so powerful it touches one's soul.
~*~
Revelation
Redcliffe was just ahead and Alistair was out of time. He had been putting it off and he was no closer to figuring out a way to tell Lya now than when they had left Lothering. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the little voice in his head muttered and he snarled at it to shut up. He hadn’t want to tell her because nothing good ever came from people knowing the truth. She would just do what everyone else always did. So he kept putting it off, wanting to spend as much time with her the way things were now, before they changed. The anxiety over not telling her had been steadily building up, an ugly, sick feeling in his chest that made his palms sweat every time an opportunity to tell her passed without comment. And now they were at Redcliffe, where everything would change, and Alistair had never hated Maric more than he did at that moment.
They were descending toward the village. He could see the sails of the windmill, the looming bulk of the castle out on the lake and he couldn’t go one more step without telling her. Fear and grief and resignation welled up in him, even as he reached out and touched her arm lightly.
“Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”
Lya turned, a smile curving her lips until she took in his expression and tone of voice. She inclined her head slightly and they stepped away from the others, finding as much privacy was possible at the moment. “What’s on your mind?”
And so he told her. Everything. When her eyes flew open, wide and shocked, he felt even worse for having withheld this for so long. Her startled exclamation of “What?!” made him flinch, as did her immediate concern over whether or not Loghain knew. It hadn’t occurred to him before right then that his very existence might place their lives in even more danger than just being Grey Wardens did, and he felt even worse.
She took several deep breaths and ran her hands through her hair, tugging slightly on the ends. It was a nervous gesture she he’d seen her use before. He tried to lessen her tension with a quip about his hair and cheese, but she just looked at him solemnly, and he stopped. There was no making this better.
“You're the heir to the throne, then?”
Alistair looked at her, horrified. He vigorously denied it and tried to impress upon her how much that wasn’t true. Lya just shook her head and looked at him sadly. Or was that pity? Either way, it wasn’t what he wanted, and he gestured helplessly, wishing he hadn’t needed to bring this up and things could have stayed the way they had been between them.
“So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”
Her expression softened somewhat. “That's not really what you think, is it?”
Hesitating slightly, Alistair sighed. “No, I... I suppose not. At least I have a chance to make things right. And I'm not alone.”
Tearing his eyes off of her—it was just too hard to look her in the face anymore given how wretched he felt—he turned and started back down to the village.
~*~
If there was any consolation to the horrific nightmare that awaited them in Redcliffe, it was that Lya didn’t coddle him or keep him out of battle the way Duncan had done. He was half expecting her to insist he stay in the Chantry with Teagan, but instead she kept him by her side throughout the defense of the village and then again as they cleared the castle.
Alistair wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did she just not care? Or was she trying to protect him by keeping him nearby? Or maybe—and he felt really paranoid for thinking it—she was keeping an eye on him so that he couldn’t prove a danger to their small party.
And tomorrow it was off to the Circle Tower in a desperate attempt to save a child, and he wasn’t sure if she would keep doing what she had been, or if he wanted her to.
He hated that he’d had to tell her, ashamed that he hadn’t been honest from the start. It had changed something between them, and he felt the loss keenly. She had been becoming the first real friend he’d ever had, and since then, she’d barely spoken to him. He wanted to apologize and make things right between them again, but he didn’t know how. And even if he did, the more time passed, the more the chances of that happening dimmed.
It was uncomfortable to be around her and the others, so he found himself at loose ends, wandering the parapets of the castle where he’d dropped small pebbles onto the heads of guards when he was a child.
A quiet step behind him made him turn. Lya was standing there, dressed in pair of leather breeches and a warm, woolen tunic.
“May I join you?”
“Of course.”
She leaned forward slightly, settling her arms on the parapet as she looked out over the lake, mimicking Alistair’s posture. He studied her profile out of the corner of his eyes, watching the way the wind tugged at her hair and she tucked it behind her ears.
“Why did you keep your birthright a secret?”
Oh, Maker. He closed his eyes. “You never asked?” he said tentatively.
“Did you not trust me? I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” he protested, trying to quell the surge of relief that maybe she did still feel that way. “I didn't mean to... it wasn't supposed to...” He sighed. “Let me explain.”
He did the best he could to explain to her what it had been like, trying to impart how much he’d resented something that wasn’t of his making having so much control over him. She listened, nodding, as he spoke, occasionally asking a question, only appearing startled when she thought he enjoyed keeping secrets from her. And then he hastened to explain that lest something else cause a misunderstanding between them.
He finished with a half-hearted shrug. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I... I guess I was just hoping that you would like me for who I am. It was a dumb thing to do.”
For a long moment Lya was silent, and then she moved her hand to cover his where it rested on the rough stone. She squeezed it gently and he forced himself to meet her gaze. It was as direct as always, but there was no anger there, no resentment or condemnation. Once she saw she had his complete attention, she squeezed his hand again.
“I do like you, and not because of your blood,” she said softly, with a small smile.
Oh. Oh. He felt the heat rise in his face as his cheeks colored. “Oh, I... oh. You see, I didn't know that,” he stammered. She squeezed his hand for a third time, her lips curving in a wide smile, and he laughed nervously. “I guess it's kind of a relief that you know now. Let's go.”
She chuckled, the sound warm and low, and a deliciously happy feeling curled through him as he followed her back inside. It hit him then that she didn’t care about what he’d told her, that it didn’t change anything. She liked him—liked him, Holy Maker, that was almost beyond belief. And best of all, she liked him for him. Not for being a templar or a Grey Warden or as Maric’s son. Just for being Alistair.
Never before in his life had he ever been certain of that. Even with Duncan, as much as the man had appeared fond of him, he’d known that there was a good chance that without his templar abilities, he’d never have been conscripted. For the first time, being Alistair was more important than anything else. He wanted to laugh, shout joyously at the realization. He wanted to pick her up and hug her and just enjoy this right now.
No matter what happened, this moment right now, this feeing would always be a part of him.
~*~
Edited for typos. Thank you, syl!
~*~
Revelation
Redcliffe was just ahead and Alistair was out of time. He had been putting it off and he was no closer to figuring out a way to tell Lya now than when they had left Lothering. Stupid, stupid, stupid, the little voice in his head muttered and he snarled at it to shut up. He hadn’t want to tell her because nothing good ever came from people knowing the truth. She would just do what everyone else always did. So he kept putting it off, wanting to spend as much time with her the way things were now, before they changed. The anxiety over not telling her had been steadily building up, an ugly, sick feeling in his chest that made his palms sweat every time an opportunity to tell her passed without comment. And now they were at Redcliffe, where everything would change, and Alistair had never hated Maric more than he did at that moment.
They were descending toward the village. He could see the sails of the windmill, the looming bulk of the castle out on the lake and he couldn’t go one more step without telling her. Fear and grief and resignation welled up in him, even as he reached out and touched her arm lightly.
“Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah, should probably have told you earlier.”
Lya turned, a smile curving her lips until she took in his expression and tone of voice. She inclined her head slightly and they stepped away from the others, finding as much privacy was possible at the moment. “What’s on your mind?”
And so he told her. Everything. When her eyes flew open, wide and shocked, he felt even worse for having withheld this for so long. Her startled exclamation of “What?!” made him flinch, as did her immediate concern over whether or not Loghain knew. It hadn’t occurred to him before right then that his very existence might place their lives in even more danger than just being Grey Wardens did, and he felt even worse.
She took several deep breaths and ran her hands through her hair, tugging slightly on the ends. It was a nervous gesture she he’d seen her use before. He tried to lessen her tension with a quip about his hair and cheese, but she just looked at him solemnly, and he stopped. There was no making this better.
“You're the heir to the throne, then?”
Alistair looked at her, horrified. He vigorously denied it and tried to impress upon her how much that wasn’t true. Lya just shook her head and looked at him sadly. Or was that pity? Either way, it wasn’t what he wanted, and he gestured helplessly, wishing he hadn’t needed to bring this up and things could have stayed the way they had been between them.
“So there you have it. Now can we move on, and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some... nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”
Her expression softened somewhat. “That's not really what you think, is it?”
Hesitating slightly, Alistair sighed. “No, I... I suppose not. At least I have a chance to make things right. And I'm not alone.”
Tearing his eyes off of her—it was just too hard to look her in the face anymore given how wretched he felt—he turned and started back down to the village.
~*~
If there was any consolation to the horrific nightmare that awaited them in Redcliffe, it was that Lya didn’t coddle him or keep him out of battle the way Duncan had done. He was half expecting her to insist he stay in the Chantry with Teagan, but instead she kept him by her side throughout the defense of the village and then again as they cleared the castle.
Alistair wasn’t sure what to make of it. Did she just not care? Or was she trying to protect him by keeping him nearby? Or maybe—and he felt really paranoid for thinking it—she was keeping an eye on him so that he couldn’t prove a danger to their small party.
And tomorrow it was off to the Circle Tower in a desperate attempt to save a child, and he wasn’t sure if she would keep doing what she had been, or if he wanted her to.
He hated that he’d had to tell her, ashamed that he hadn’t been honest from the start. It had changed something between them, and he felt the loss keenly. She had been becoming the first real friend he’d ever had, and since then, she’d barely spoken to him. He wanted to apologize and make things right between them again, but he didn’t know how. And even if he did, the more time passed, the more the chances of that happening dimmed.
It was uncomfortable to be around her and the others, so he found himself at loose ends, wandering the parapets of the castle where he’d dropped small pebbles onto the heads of guards when he was a child.
A quiet step behind him made him turn. Lya was standing there, dressed in pair of leather breeches and a warm, woolen tunic.
“May I join you?”
“Of course.”
She leaned forward slightly, settling her arms on the parapet as she looked out over the lake, mimicking Alistair’s posture. He studied her profile out of the corner of his eyes, watching the way the wind tugged at her hair and she tucked it behind her ears.
“Why did you keep your birthright a secret?”
Oh, Maker. He closed his eyes. “You never asked?” he said tentatively.
“Did you not trust me? I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” he protested, trying to quell the surge of relief that maybe she did still feel that way. “I didn't mean to... it wasn't supposed to...” He sighed. “Let me explain.”
He did the best he could to explain to her what it had been like, trying to impart how much he’d resented something that wasn’t of his making having so much control over him. She listened, nodding, as he spoke, occasionally asking a question, only appearing startled when she thought he enjoyed keeping secrets from her. And then he hastened to explain that lest something else cause a misunderstanding between them.
He finished with a half-hearted shrug. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. I... I guess I was just hoping that you would like me for who I am. It was a dumb thing to do.”
For a long moment Lya was silent, and then she moved her hand to cover his where it rested on the rough stone. She squeezed it gently and he forced himself to meet her gaze. It was as direct as always, but there was no anger there, no resentment or condemnation. Once she saw she had his complete attention, she squeezed his hand again.
“I do like you, and not because of your blood,” she said softly, with a small smile.
Oh. Oh. He felt the heat rise in his face as his cheeks colored. “Oh, I... oh. You see, I didn't know that,” he stammered. She squeezed his hand for a third time, her lips curving in a wide smile, and he laughed nervously. “I guess it's kind of a relief that you know now. Let's go.”
She chuckled, the sound warm and low, and a deliciously happy feeling curled through him as he followed her back inside. It hit him then that she didn’t care about what he’d told her, that it didn’t change anything. She liked him—liked him, Holy Maker, that was almost beyond belief. And best of all, she liked him for him. Not for being a templar or a Grey Warden or as Maric’s son. Just for being Alistair.
Never before in his life had he ever been certain of that. Even with Duncan, as much as the man had appeared fond of him, he’d known that there was a good chance that without his templar abilities, he’d never have been conscripted. For the first time, being Alistair was more important than anything else. He wanted to laugh, shout joyously at the realization. He wanted to pick her up and hug her and just enjoy this right now.
No matter what happened, this moment right now, this feeing would always be a part of him.
~*~
Edited for typos. Thank you, syl!
Modifié par LadyDamodred, 05 février 2011 - 10:48 .
#30444
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:07
KnightofPhoenix
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#30446
Guest_Gemaphrodite_*
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:11
Guest_Gemaphrodite_*
Guest_Gemaphrodite_*
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Oh my! We're still gushing about Alistair?
#30447
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:21
LadyDamodred
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Hrm. *taps chin* The official prompt will require more thought. I wish we knew more about him.
#30448
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:38
Tigress M
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@LadyD - That was wonderful! I loved getting a glimpse inside his mind as the realization that Lya likes him slowly dawns. I swear I could feel his tingles. Well done!
@KoP - Interesting prompt. Definitely something to think about.
@KoP - Interesting prompt. Definitely something to think about.
#30449
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:46
Addai
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Thank you for your ffnet review and fave, Tigress. ^^
#30450
Posté 05 février 2011 - 10:55
Thor Rand Al
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Holy Maker LD, that was beautiful, that's almost how I've imagined when I get to that scene. You've described exactly how I played out my last playthrough. Thats awesome. I so wish I could put my thoughts in words like that, beautiful
