Dragon Age: Origins/Awakening, Part 5: Permanently Frozen
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“I am Dalish,” the Warden-Commander glowered. “I will not forego the rites of my people.”
“And I could accept that,” Anora nodded. “I might prefer if you could have them privately but you are the arl. Why did you drag the Vigil’s elven staff into it?”
“They should know something of their heritage.” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Then teach a class! You cannot order god-fearing Chantry folk to participate in your...” Anora hastily edited out whatever adjectives might fit there. “In your rituals.”
Mahariel shook her head. “I didn’t order, I invited them.”
“You’re their arl! Do you really think they will tell you no?” The elf’s astonished face told her the answer. Anora rubbed her forehead. “Maker’s breath. You did.”
Astonishment faded into a scowl. “And how should I know your customs? I remind you again that I did not ask for this task. If you find me unsuitable -”
“You needn’t be so defensive. If your intentions were honorable, then in the future simply -”
“Then in the future, it will be some thing!” Mahariel waved her hands angrily. “I will do nothing but fail here. And you set me to the task!”
“And I ask again, are you insane?” Anora threw her arms wide to gesture around the Vigil. “All saved from an unprecedented darkspawn attack, the basements secured, the walls reinforced, its soldiers in new plate... You call this a failure?”
“You are here, so I know I have caused some trouble.”
Anora paused. “Perhaps a fair assessment,” she admitted. “I have much to do, rebuilding Ferelden, and often it is only the problems which gain my attention.” She smiled warmly. “You are a strong presence in the north. Amaranthine has many troubles, but it is hardly your fault that the darkspawn are slow to leave this area. And you make inroads against them daily.” She reached out to grip the other woman’s upper arm. “You are doing very well.”
Mahariel looked at her arm, eyes following it up until they met Anora’s. “In truth?”
“In truth... I came frustrated, perhaps even angry. But never disappointed.”
She was not as surprised this time, when the Warden-Commander bore her backwards, up against a wall, lips hungry on her own. And she was less surprised at her own response, less afraid of it. She sank her long fingers into the elf’s military braids and urged her down, down to the floor with her, because standing seemed like too much trouble with all they had to do.
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*catches breath*
Oh my....
Non-OP loves this!
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