Fic: Dreams

[signcherie]

Cross-posting from swooping is bad :)

This is my first fanfiction ever. It was something that just grabbed hold of me and insisted I write it. I wrote it mostly for myself, because this scene in game was just too short for all the emotion involved. But I thought some of you might like it too.

Title: Dreams
Rating: T for some violence
Characters: Alistair, fem!Mahariel, Tamlen, with appearances by Sten, Wynne, Leliana, and Oghren
Pairing: f!Mahariel/Alistair and f!Mahariel/Tamlen
Summary: An expansion on the scene where Mahariel discovers what happened to Tamlen

The Grey Warden was dreaming.

It was a pleasant dream, for once. She was in the Brecilian Forest. The sun was shining through the leaves, and she was running, darting through the trees, the wind blowing in her hair, and laughter on her lips. Behind her, the sound of footsteps grew louder, and male laughter answered her own.

A part of her knew that this was only a dream, that she was far from her home with the Dalish clan, but the dream felt so real, and it was so nice to let go...

“Got you!” Tamlen cried from behind her, throwing his arms around her waist and tackling her to the forest floor. “I told you you couldn’t outrun me!”

She rolled away from him with a grin, tossing a handful of leaves at his face. “You were supposed to catch me, not maul me, you fool!”

“As if you would have stopped for anything less.” Smirking, Tamlen brushed the leaves away and pulled himself up to a sitting position.

He did look awfully proud of himself. She decided it wouldn’t be very kind to tell him she’d let him catch her. That she’d wanted to be caught by him.

Not only a dream. A memory. It was so rare to have a dream that wasn’t filled with horrors these days. This dream transported her back to a happier time, a time when people had still called her by her name. Now everyone simply referred to her as “Warden.” Suddenly she wanted to tell Tamlen what she’d never had the guts to tell him in reality, to say everything in her heart...

“Tamlen,” she began. “Lethallin, I--”

But the dream was fading, Tamlen’s smiling face swirling away. The Warden tried to hold onto it, but it slipped from her grasp like water through a sieve.

In its place, the Archdemon reared and howled. She felt its cry through her entire being.

Wake up, she thought. Wake up, wake up.

The Archdemon turned its head. Its glowing eyes looked straight into her, and she could swear the monster was smiling.

With a gasp, the Warden’s eyes popped open. She sat straight up, her entire body shaking.

Across the campfire, her eyes met Alistair’s. Alistair, her fellow Grey Warden, the human she’d grown to love in the months since she’d lost Tamlen. His eyes were as wide as hers, his breath coming in gasps.

“You’re awake! Did you feel it, too? It was like the Archdemon saw us. Saw us! What does that mean? I think --”

He was cut off by a long, penetrating shriek that pierced the air.

“Wait, did you hear that?” he whispered.

For one brief second, a look of understanding passed between them. Then both were on their feet, weapons in hand.

They were just in time. Darkspawn swarmed into the campsite. Both Wardens plunged into battle.

The Warden sliced at the nearest enemy, her blades gashing its stomach. The darkspawn screamed in response and swung at the Warden. These darkspawn were the large, hunched monsters known as shrieks for their ear-splitting cries. They battled with their claws and blades attached to their forearms. The Warden deftly dodged the shriek’s attack and, in one fluid movement, sank her right blade into its heart.

As the creature fell, the Warden noted that her other companions were up and fighting. Good. She had no time to think as the next attacker came at her, attempting to shred her face with its claws and blade. She raised her blades in an X to block the attack, then kicked the shriek in the chest, knocking it backwards. Seizing the advantage, she swung both her weapons at the enemy in quick succession -- right, left, right -- and the darkspawn fell dead at her feet.

Nearby, the Warden spotted Alistair flanked by three of the monsters, battling for his life. With a growl, she attacked one of the monsters from behind, decapitating it in one quick stroke. Alistair bashed the second darkspawn with his shield, sending it stumbling -- straight into the Warden. With a grin, she finished it off as Alistair sank his longword into the stomach of the third.

Alistair flashed the Warden a quick grin before turning on another enemy.

Her companions were making quick work of the remaining darkspawn. The Warden turned to confront the last unoccupied shriek standing.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“You... lethallin...” croaked the shriek.

Her hands fell limply at her sides.

“Tamlen?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

Tamlen’s eyes stared back at her from the greying skin of the shriek’s face. Instinctively, the Warden reached a hand toward him.

The shriek--Tamlen--jerked back as if burned. “Don’t...don’t come near me!” he cried. “Stay away!”

With that, he took off running.

She didn’t even think. Her feet moved of their own accord, following him. This man had been her best friend, her dearest love. Once, he had been the whole world to her. For months now, she had believed him dead. She could not let him get away now.

As she caught up to him, he spun to face her. “Don’t...look at me!” he choked out, his voice hoarse and strained. “I am sick...”

Yes, it was Tamlen, all right. His features, though marred by darkspawn taint, were unmistakable. “We can help you, Tamlen,” she said. Her mind was racing. Perhaps Wynne would know a spell, something useful... “Don’t be afraid.”

He was shaking his head. “No help,” he answered, his words tinged with desperation. “No...help for me. The song...in my head. It...calls to me. He sings to me! I can’t stop it!”

The Archdemon. The Warden searched for the right words, to reassure him, to let him know she would do everything she could...

Tamlen’s hands were clenched in fists, his entire body shaking. “Don’t want...to hurt you, lethallin...” he croaked. “Please...stop me...”

She meant for her words to be strong, but they came out in a whisper. “I have to try to heal you, Tamlen!” It was a plea.

He actually managed a small smile, and it was the same smile she’d fallen in love with years ago. “Too far,” he said. “You cannot help me. I’m...so sorry, lethallin. Never wanted this...”

He looked her directly in the eyes. “Always...loved you,” he told her.

A moment later, he lost control. He swung out at the Warden with his claws, slicing at her armor.

She brought her blades up to defend herself, trying to fend off his attack without hurting him, but it was no use. Tamlen fought like a crazed animal. He showed no sign of recognizing who or what he was fighting. If she didn’t end this, he would kill her.

I’m sorry, Tamlen, she thought. I’m so sorry.

Tamlen lunged at her, and the Warden stepped aside, throwing him off balance. Before he could regain his footing, she shoved her blade into his side.

Tamlen shrieked, then staggered.

The Warden pulled her blade free. Tamlen raised his hands to attack, but he was slowed by his injury. In one quick movement, the Warden slit Tamlen’s throat.

He fell.

The Warden’s companions had begun to rush to her side, to help her with the battle. Seeing her opponent drop to the ground, they slowed to a walk, looking to her for their next orders.

The Warden looked at her blade, dripping with Tamlen’s blood.

Alistair approached her. “Who was that?”

She raised her eyes to his. “His name was Tamlen,” she whispered.

“Tamlen!” Alistair said. “Then he was the one who was with you when you...” He paused, taking in her subdued tone, and the tears hovering on her lashes. “I’m so sorry,” he said, in a quieter voice. “This is what happens when the taint is left unchecked. It’s...” He hesitated. “It’s better for him, to have it end. It was a mercy.”

The Warden nodded wordlessly. She felt empty, as though everything inside her had been hollowed out, leaving her body an emotionless shell. Her companions were moving off, heading back to the circle of tents, quietly discussing the attack. She didn’t hear their words.

Alistair stood where he was, watching her with worry in his eyes.

Duty always came first. She was a Grey Warden, and their leader. Take care of business, she thought, and then you can break down. With an effort, she forced her heavy feet to move, one in front of the other, carrying her back to the camp and her companions.

Alistair followed.

Her companions had formed an informal circle around the campfire. They looked at her as she approached.
“We will need to keep watch in shifts of two tonight,” she said tonelessly. “The darkspawn may return; we cannot drop our guard.”

It was Sten who answered, stoic as always. “We will make arrangements, kadan.”

The Warden looked at him. “We will have a burial in the morning.”

No one answered. Perhaps they sensed that the moment was, for her, too serious for words.

She felt the facade of control slipping. “You will handle this, then? I will be in my tent if you need anything.”

Before anyone could object, she ducked into her tent, leaving Alistair standing there uncertainly.

Alistair tossed another twig at the fire. It was not his turn to keep watch. Oghren and Wynne were on duty, and they sat nearby, discussing the merits of fine wine. But somehow, Alistair didn’t feel like sleeping.

He’d known about Tamlen, of course: his love’s best friend among the Dalish, who’d been infected by darkspawn corruption and then disappeared. He’d given it no more thought than that, except to be grateful that his love had not suffered the same fate.

Until he’d seen her face tonight, and realized that Tamlen had been more than simply a friend.

Why had she disappeared so quickly into her tent? And without even a word to him? What was she thinking about now, all alone in there?

It wasn’t like he’d never seen her unhappy. He’d seen her lovely face creased with sorrow, or set with determination. But this was different. There was something in her eyes. Like she barely even saw him. Like a wall had come down between them and shut him out. Like she wasn’t even there at all.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

And then she had disappeared wordlessly into her tent, and Alistair didn’t have the nerve to follow.

Alistair knew what he felt. The woman in that tent was the only thing in the world he wanted for himself. He certainly hadn’t meant to fall in love--Maker’s breath, he hadn’t even believed in love, really--but he hadn’t been able to resist her. He loved her, utterly, completely, and nothing could change that. All his dreams now involved her.

But perhaps...she felt differently. Perhaps she had seen in him only a substitute for her Dalish friend, something to keep her mind off her true love who was lost. Perhaps seeing Tamlen today had reminded her what real love felt like, and tomorrow she would emerge from that blasted tent and tell him it was over, and she wanted nothing more to do with him. Very likely, in fact. He had always known that he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough, for a woman of her caliber, but he had hoped, somehow, that he could keep her from noticing that fact with a few witty jokes--and a horde of darkspawn to distract her.

Well, if that was to be the way of it, he’d best get used to the idea now. He was going to be spending his nights alone from now on, in his own tent. In the cold. No more sweet laughter and playful banter while they traveled. No more penetrating looks from those soulful eyes that seemed to see right through him. No more soft endearments whispered in his ear...

Maker, he didn’t think he could endure it.

“Here,” said a voice nearby. With a start, he turned to see who had spoken.

Wynne stood next to him, holding out a bottle of wine.

“Oh,” Alistair said in confusion. “Er, I don’t--I mean, I was just--”

“Go on, take it.”

Alistair took the bottle gingerly. “I think you might be mistaking me for Oghren. Something I sincerely hope isn’t the case. If so, I’m more overdue for a bath than I thought.”

Wynne sat down next to him. “You are more overdue for a bath than you think. But clearly, you’re not Oghren. I may be old, but I’ve still got my eyesight. And besides, I think Oghren’s got enough liquor. He doesn’t need any more from me.”

“Then, what--”

“I thought you could use this,” Wynne said primly. “Alcohol is occasionally useful for working up one’s nerve.”

Alistair took an experimental sip. “And what am I working up my nerve for?”

Wynne blinked at him innocently. “Why, to go into her tent, of course.”

He laughed. “I don’t think I’m wanted there, Wynne. I’m not exactly picking up any ‘come hither’ signals.”

“That is because you are a man, and a young one at that. Young men are frequently clueless when it comes to a woman’s heart.” She stood, brushing a few leaves from her robes. “Trust me. She wants you.”

Alistair watched her rejoin Oghren, pondering. Then he took a large swig from the bottle.

The Warden sat alone in her tent, hunched over with her grief. Any way she looked at it, she felt like a traitor. The two halves of her were tearing her apart.

One side of her was near hysterical in grief for Tamlen. Tamlen, who was brave and mischievous and impetuous, the way she had been. Tamlen, who had not deserved to die. Tamlen, who had always been her truest friend. What agony had he suffered all this time, as his body succumbed to darkspawn corruption, greying and wasting away? She could scarcely stand to think of it. If the world were the place it should be, there would be no darkspawn. Tamlen would be well, and healthy, and whole. and they would both be living happily with their Dalish clan. Perhaps one day they would bond, and have children, and grow old together...

Everything she had once dreamed of.

And Tamlen, Tamlen loved her. He had said so. She had not been alone in her feelings for him. The thought was both a comfort and an agony. Comfort, because her dreams were not so far off. Agony, because now they could never be.

But when her thoughts went down that path, the other half of herself rebelled. For all she had loved Tamlen, Alistair had since claimed her heart. And, oh, she loved him! He had won her over with his awkward charm and his playful grin. She adored the way he stuttered and blushed when he got nervous, and the way she sometimes caught him looking at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention, as if she were the center of the whole world.

Most of all, she loved his heart of gold, how he was always determined to do the right thing, whatever it took. It was a rare thing, that. She had never thought that she could fall in love with a shemlen, but here she was. She hadn’t been able to help losing her heart to Alistair. She’d simply looked at him one day and realized that she was his.

How dare she dream of a life with any other man?

And yet, Tamlen had the prior claim on her heart. He had always been there for her when she needed him. And he had loved her. What kind of person was she, to give her heart away so quickly after losing him? She should not have taken Duncan’s word that he was dead. She should have kept searching for him. Surely there was something she could have done, some way she could have saved Tamlen from this fate.

More than anything, she wanted Alistair right now. She needed to feel his arms around her and know that he was here, safe, and not lost the way Tamlen was. But her guilt kept her from seeking him out. She hadn’t been able to even look at him before escaping to the isolation of her tent. What right did she have to seek comfort in Alistair when she was mourning another love? What would Tamlen think, if he knew she was grieving for him in the arms of another man?

She felt very hollow, and very fragile, as if everything she loved could shatter like fine glass at the slightest touch. And deep inside her, the part of her that was most traitorous to Tamlen rejoiced that it was not Alistair who lay dead outside the camp.

Behind her, someone cleared his throat.

The Warden turned at the sound. Alistair held open the tent flap, bending to peer into the tent. His form was silhouetted against the starry night sky.

“Er...hi. Sorry to...disturb. I mean, I don’t want to barge in or anything. I just thought...you know, never mind. I’ll just be out here.”

Before he could move, the Warden threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly to her chest and pulling him into the tent.

“Well, this is quite the turnaround,” Alistair said, bewildered.

Then he noticed she was crying.

Instantly all his own worries flew out of his head. He pulled her close, stroking her hair. “Shh, don’t cry,” he said. “It’s...” His voice trailed off. What could he say? It wasn’t okay, not even close. Her friend was dead, there was a darkspawn horde on their doorstep, and odds were that none of them would survive any of this. “I’m here,” he finished lamely, feeling extremely inadequate. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry,” the Warden said, pulling back to wipe her tears. “You shouldn’t have to see this. Go on, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” She pushed weakly at his chest.

Alistair froze. Had he heard her right? “Wait a second--are you saying you’ve been avoiding me tonight...for my sake?”

Relief swept over him like a tidal wave, and he laughed.

The Warden blinked up at him.

“Right. Sorry.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her back to him, savoring how warm and soft she felt in his arms. “I think I’ll just stay here, if it’s all the same to you. You see, I love you, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

His love turned her face up to his, and he met her lips with his, and kissed her through her tears. It was sweet, and a little wild, and it made Alistair a little dizzy, as her kisses always did. Not for the first time, Alistair thought, Maker, thank you for this woman.

They had spent a good part of the morning burying Tamlen’s remains. The Warden had gone herself into the woods to retrieve a sapling to plant over his body. Now standing in front of the grave, with her companions around her, she felt distinctly awkward.

“Right,” the Warden said. “This ceremony should be led by a hahren, but, well, I’m all we’ve got.” She took a deep breath. “Tamlen was -- an amazing person. Always looking for adventure, never satisfied with being average. He knew how to make the most out of life.” She paused, searching for words. “Most of all, he was a true, loyal friend. I learned a great deal from him.”

The Warden knelt before the grave and placed a single flower at the base of the tree. “I’m sorry I didn’t save you, Tamlen. You deserved better than this. I hope--that I can be the person you saw in me, lethallin. I hope I make you proud.”

She stayed like that for a moment, kneeling at Tamlen’s grave as though praying. Then she rose. “If this were a proper ceremony,” she said, “everyone in the clan would have a chance to say something if they wanted. But since you didn’t know him...” She shrugged.

“Actually,” Alistair interjected suddenly, “if it would be all right--well, I would like to say something.”

The Warden’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she gestured him forward. “Yes, of course. Please.”

Alistair looked as surprised as she was at his own nerve for volunteering, but he stepped forward, looking uncomfortable, and spoke to the grave. “Right. Er. Well, eloquence was certainly never my strong suit. I mean, I didn’t know you, and you don’t know me. I’m sure you never thought some strange human would be stepping up at your funeral like this. You...probably think I should just shut up and leave well enough alone...” He stopped, and groaned. “Maker, I’m making a mess of this.”

He lowered his voice, so that the Warden had to strain to hear his next words. “I just wanted to say that even though I never knew you personally, I know you must have been something really special to earn her loyalty. And I promise you--I’ll do everything in my power to take care of her.”

He looked back at the Warden. “That’s it,” he said.

She took his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Leliana cleared her throat. “I am reminded of an Orlesian ballad I learned years ago. Perhaps, if you deem it appropriate, I may sing it in Tamlen’s honor?”

The Warden nodded. “That would be lovely, Leliana. Thank you.”

The Warden did not understand the words to Leliana’s song, as she didn’t speak Orlesian, but the melody was haunting and beautiful, and she stood there, hand in hand with her love, and said goodbye to her dear friend.

“I love you, Alistair,” she whispered.

A blush spread over Alistair’s cheeks, and a blissful smile crossed his face.

There were all kinds of dreams. There were daydreams, and nightmares; hopeful dreams, and shattered dreams; dreams that could be, and dreams that never would. Part of her, she knew, would always dream of Tamlen, but now, she held the hand of the man she loved, and began a new dream for the future.