Legend (Dragon Age Origins)

Chapter 10: Becoming Wardens

The man with the cold eyes glared at her. Before today, she had done nothing to him. And yet he looked at her with absolute fury. A hatred that could only be cured through cruelty. He loathed her simply because of what she was, and that was the cruellest of all.

She couldn't stop being an elf and because of that, people like this man would never allow her freedom or happiness. All she had were pointed ears, a slight change in body structure. And yet, to this man, that made all the difference. To him, she wasn't a being. She didn't deserve to be alive.

She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them again, the look in her eyes matched his. Since the day she was born, the humans had claimed that she would become nothing but a criminal, a worthless piece of life.

If that was what they wanted to believe, then—

"Then so be it," Dru snarled.

*

The world returned to her, slowly but peacefully. Dru was aware that she was in a small warm room somewhere. Dru blinked up at the slanting roof until everything stopped spinning. She felt the coarse blankets under her hands, the smell of the lit fireplace, the crackling of the wood. Someone was humming a song.

As quietly as she could, Dru kicked off the sheets covering her and raised her bare left leg. No pain accompanied the movement. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her elbow and glanced around.

Clothing and fur throw rugs covered every inch of surface space. Along the walls were bookshelves crammed with thickly bound tomes, thick strings weaved between them, decorated by shells, gems, and feathers. A woman sat in front of the fireplace, her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders. She was focused on threading a pile of glimmering pearls through a piece of ribbon. A wolf-skin cloak engulfed her pale body.

Dru recognised her as Morrigan, the mysterious witch that they had encountered in the Wilds. Without her heavy makeup and the hood she had previously worn, the woman appeared much more youthful, her features soft and gentle.

As if sensing someone watching her, Morrigan's amber eyes flicked upwards.

"Ah, you're finally awake," she remarked in that strange accent of hers. "Mother shall be pleased."

Whatever dumb expression Dru might have been wearing was instantly replaced her signature scowl. She sat up, pulling the sheets to cover her body.

"What am I doing here?" she demanded.

Morrigan set aside her necklace and stood. Her cloak dragged across the ground. "My mother rescued you from that tower," she explained. "You have been here in our home for some days, resting. Your wounds were quite severe, though the darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal."

"Your mother rescued me? How?" Dru shook her head before Morrigan could answer. "Nevermind that, tell me what happened in the battle. Did we win?"

"All I know is that the man who was to respond to your signal quit the field," she answered slowly. "Those he abandoned were massacred."

A heavy coldness settled in Dru's chest. "Massacred? Oh, Maker." That meant that Duncan was... and the king...

"Your friend... he is not taking it very well."

Dru's head snapped up. "My friend?"

"The other Grey Warden," Morrigan revealed. "He recovered a few hours before you did and has been moping outside ever since. You can go see him if you wish. Or you can continue lying in my bed..."

Morrigan's tone greatly revealed her preference.

Taking the hint, Dru quickly dressed in her Grey Warden uniform, which was folded neatly for her by the foot of the bed. She felt at ease once the familiar armour was back on her body. Someone had washed it for her, cleaning away the blood and stitching up the tears from the darkspawn's attack. Not only that, but the witches had also masterfully healed Dru's dislocated hip and all other wounds.