I like to torture my city elves a bit much.
Mere Possessions
Khorren Tabris unraveled when Alistair finally asked her about the sword. After all, it’s exceptionally tough for one’s best friend not to notice one treating a nicked and battered old iron sword like it was an extra body part or a child’s cuddle blanket. He told her that he had made note of the way she clutched it like a talisman at Ostagar even though she barely knew what to do with it. He noticed the way that she refused the offer of better weapons. He finally asked her when they were camped outside of Denerim, two days after the awkward and fumbling but completely awesome (they both agreed on the descriptor) night they decided to set their virginities aside. That night there had been a moment where she was understandably uncomfortable. Alistair gave her a minute to relax and adjust, and her hand had gone to the side of the bedroll, gripping her old blade until her knuckles turned white. His concern had just been on the verge of overwhelming his arousal when Khorren suddenly relaxed and gave him a grin and a playful slap on the rump. He had known he had to ask the other Warden about the sword, but that moment had confirmed that the explanation would be bad.
At first, she tried to parry his question with the tall-tale-game, the one where he would dodge an inquiry with a story about being raised by flying dogs and she would counter with the tale of Duncan originally buying her for supper from a troupe of blind Rivanni circus performers. But Alistair was a quick study and beat her with own technique of a softly serious voice and kind, patient eyes. Alistair assured her that she most likely did not get the sword from a woman in a lake who then declared the elf Queen of the Qunari. Blast him.
She recognized her own “listening face” when he turned it on her. He waited as she started sharpening her blade, indulging in her favorite nervous habit. She cleared her throat and explained that the blade was once Duncan’s spare. Her companion nodded, not satisfied with the short version.
And then?
Well, Duncan had shown up on, um, her cousin’s wedding day, filling Khorren’s head to bursting with the desire to be a Grey Warden. Duncan once tried to recruit her mother, you know. So Alistair remembered her mentioning…
And then?
See, there was this spoiled human lordling who showed up with his drunken pals early in the day and started to harass the elven women in the bridal party and Khorren’s crazy cousin Shianni (did Alistair remember Khorren ever telling him about Shianni? He did? Oh.), well, she brained the bastard with a clay tankard. Wait, she was telling the story out of order, this was where Duncan showed up. He caused this really funny misunderstanding and it could have ended up in a major fistfight. With Duncan. Could Alistair imagine?
And then?
Then… everyone gathered up in the square for the wedding. Poor Soris, he looked like he was about to lose every lunch he’d eaten in three years. He kept comparing his betrothed to a mouse. Anyway, the lordling came back and stormed the party. With his personal guard. He was kind of… the Arl of Denerim’s son.
And… then?
And then he threatened to take Shianni. And a couple of Khorren’s childhood friends and her cousin’s bride… and herself. But Khorren stopped him. She volunteered to go with the little prick without a fight if they just left the others alone.
And then?
He agreed.
Khorren had gone back to his estate without a fight and they made her do... things. Things that were sort of hard to keep out of her mind when she was with Alistair. When they figured out she had never done… anything with a man, they started squabbling over who would be first. But a guard came in with a bloodied up sword and said something to the Arl’s son, and the bastard turned on her saying that if she enjoyed swords so much… And he used the hilt of that sword to…
Well. Anyway.
That was about when Soris showed up with Shianni and the other girls they said they weren’t going to take, but did anyway, the shem arseholes. The sword had come from Khorren’s - uh, Khorren’s cousin’s friend Neloras, whom the guards cut down in the hallway. Duncan had lent him the blade. When the Arl’s son was distracted, Khorren had taken that same sword and cut the man’s head off right in his own bedroom. Duncan had to conscript her, of course. Well, Khorren wasn’t supposed to let her cousins go to the gallows, was she? Khorren pressed Alistair to admit that he would have done exactly the same thing in her position, now wouldn’t he? Besides, she was the one clutching the bloody sword, let her take the fall.
So why keep such a grizzly keepsake? Well, if you thought about it, the sword was almost as much a part of her as Alistair. They’d been through so much together.
And there Khorren had paused in her explanation, throwing an arm around her best friend saying that she felt bad. She hadn’t said all that stuff to make him cry. All that stuff was in the past. Tomorrow they would go to meet Alistair’s half-sister. That would cheer him up, wouldn’t it?
Still, that night when she had climbed into bed with her friend, she caught herself crying just a little. She laid out the sword beside them and speculated that maybe it had just been a long day.