dragon age: oneshots

By Your Side (A. Theirin x Warden)

The aged Redcliffe chamber was dimly lit with the crevices of the room remaining submerged in partial darkness. A young fire danced in the fireplace across from the wooden bed, the warmth it provided lightly kissing the skin of the individuals who lingered there. A figure stood near the fire, her body hunched somewhat inwards as her arms were wrapped around her own torso for support. Yet her gaze was cast at the floor below, studying the floor beneath her feet. The man, having just changed into his makeshift nightwear (which consisted of primarily dirty clothes and mismatched socks), found himself refocused on the light that was present. Yet as he studied her, his lips pressed together and curled into a tight frown.

He could easily see the tremble in her fingers, her unsteady breathes, the constant swallowing. How he despised seeing her in such a state of pain, yet he could understand entirely.

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His feet carried him across a relatively short distance across the room, the old boards creaking under his weight. Alistair spoke nothing at first, only allowing the transparent worry to seep through. Approaching from behind her in a quieted manner, Alistair extended his arms and lightly wrapped them around her waist. His love exhaled softly at this, the tension leaving her shoulders.

Slowly she slipped her arms down, instead locking them around Alistair's arm, depending on him for support. At that moment, the man felt his own anxieties lift, the corners of his lips softly tugging upwards. The Warden squeezed Alistair's arm, leaning back on his warm person. Alistair smiled at this. He leaned in as well, lightly pressing a fleeting kiss to the top of his lover's head.

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"My dear," Alistair spoke softly, his voice barely above the crackling of the flames. His amber hues glimmered in the light, alongside the very much so present circles that began to form beneath his eyes. Luckily for him, dark circles seemed to be a popular accessory among the remaining Wardens. Sleep was such a rare occurrence for Wardens, let alone anyone who associated with this cause for Ferelden. Alistair found this whole battle to be something of a bittersweet nature.

Why did an entire nation rely on a meager band of loosely associated individuals? The pressure occasionally seemed too much to handle, but Alistair never wished to see this group as never occurring. Without Duncan, without Ostagar, without everything... regardless of how successful or tragic it had been, had led them to this moment. It united the most unlikely two lovers, allied under a cause to save a nation that faced more than a Blight. Simply amazing how certain things work out.

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The Warden responded in a hushed tone with her equal affections. After that, silence carried on throughout the room and choked any noise that dare persist. Despite the lovers' embrace, Alistair knew all was not well. The Warden's body became tense, her muscles tightening. She swallowed roughly, her fingers pressing into Alistair's skin. The smile present on his lips immediately fell. He considered backing away, giving her space, but she did not pull away herself. Only the fire persisted continuously, leaving the two otherwise in total persisting silence. Alistair then cleared his throat silently, trying to find the right words for the moment. He opened his mouth to speak in question, yet the Warden was quick to reply.

"No." She abruptly answered, declining his question of leaving. The Warden, realizing her unexplainably sharp tone, breathed in and proceeded to sigh, leaving a moment of silence lingering between them. Finally, after a moment of regaining herself, she spoke softly in a clearer reply, "That's not necessary, my love."

The Warden closed her eyes for a moment, regaining herself with an additional breath before planning the words that would follow. Why she had felt so out of composure, only she would know. The others would feel it as strongly as she did. If the past haunted one, the future could only do that but worse. The past is this concept of events that shaped a person, consisting of both good and bad, but is thought to have little lingering effect on an individual.

The future, however, is the unpredictable. It is what is to come, the events that one only knows vaguely about but cannot imagine the full extent to which they shall occur. That was frightening. The Warden felt she was alone in this thought, but similar emotions were merely an inch away from her residing in the man she entrusted with her sacred love. Thinking of the thoughts that incessantly plagued her mind, the Warden squeezed her lover's arms tighter, placing a kiss to one. The man's expression visibly fell, his worry amplifying. He rested his nose in her hair, pain streaking his face as he imagined the torment his lover suffered. There was a bitter silence present in the room that chilled both, something not even the warmth of the lingering flames could thaw. Their love fought through it, but struggled.

Sometimes silence was best. After all, actions always spoke louder than words.

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He held her, wanting nothing more than to reassure his love that she would be forever safe in his arms. Then, Alistair felt the Warden's body tremble and shake. It was minor, but soon followed by quieted sniffles. His heart raced, surged, his stomach flipping. Her breaths were rapid and broken, only for his love to utter, "Alistair, I'm so afraid."

At that immediate moment, the man unwrapped his arms from her. He gently turned the woman around, guided by his hands, only to have her facing him. At the sight of her, his heart dropped. Tears streaked her features, her eyes tired of fighting and of war, her cheeks red, her expression pained. Alistair found himself speechless - all he could manage was to reach out and pull her close to him, shushing her for the moment being.

The Warden sobbed into his chest, hands grasping onto his shirt. The man felt his shirt become wet, with tears dripping and soaking the fabric. He closed his eyes for a moment, a shaky breath also escaping his lips as he fought off his urges to match her in empathy. Instead, he bolstered her. Alistair traced patterns on her back with his fingers while she breathed, making circles. He kissed the top of her head. It was only another moment until he felt the breaths slowing and steadying, the tears ceasing. Warmth filled his soul, though the Warden soon lightly tugged for some space. With surprise lacing his expression, he drew back his arms and gave her space.

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Her expression traced the floor for a moment. A sniffle followed, but she only shook her head. "I apologize, Alistair. Thoughts of the coming day terrifies me. I know we're doing right, but what if all is lost? What if the people of Denerim die at our hands? What if Ferelden or all of Thedas falls because we aren't successful?" The Warden's voice became aggressive, though it was only her fear playing off of her emotions. Horror filled her features.Taking a step forwards to the man, her eyes tore from the floorboards and fixated on her love's amber hues. She opened her mouth, but could not utter the words. The Warden could only look at him.

Finally, as she choked on her words, she barely uttered to him, "what if I lose you?" Tears befell her visage.

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Alistair paused, a gasp caught in his throat that he found rather inappropriate to express. Tears welled in the brims of his eyes, his features reddening, but he resisted. His countenance shifted with compassion, worry overtaking the grief that was pushing through. He reached his hand out, using his finger to wipe away the tear that rolled down her face. He leaned and kissed the top of her nose, prompting the Warden to laugh sadly.

"My dear," he softly replied, "you needn't apologize. Losing me? I doubt that'll be an issue. Surely if I die, the Maker will throw me out for talking too much and I will see you again." The edges of his lips pressed upwards, threatening to fall on his own emotions. The Warden agreed on the possibility, the two laughing together for a moment before Alistair took on a serious tone.

"I cannot tell you what will happen tomorrow. Only the Maker knows. Only bit I know is that whatever happens tomorrow, I will be by your side. I love you more than anything in this world, my dear. The thought of losing you is one I cannot bear." Alistair admitted, pain now overtaking the expression he held. He swallowed roughly, lifting up a hand to wipe away the stray tear that had escaped. He concluded,

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"Through battles, through defeat, through victory, or through death, I swear upon the Maker to never leave your side."

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A Warden's promise is never an empty one. Truly as those words were uttered, the promise that followed was always ensured.

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He never left her side when she lie there by the slain Archdemon, with a blood-stained blade lain in her cold grip.