Antebellum [Meredith/Orsino; PG-13]
Title: Antebellum
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Characters: Meredith/Orsino
Wordcount: 1,421
Disclaimer: I do not own DAII. Believe me, I would love to, but I don't.
Authors' Notes: Meredith and Orsino, before the crazy set in. A summer by the sea, and an ending that cannot be avoided.
"I know the borderlines we drew between us
Keep the weapons down, keep the wounded safe,
I know our antebellum innocence
Was never meant to see the light of our armistice day."
-Vienna Teng, "Antebellum"
***
It was a blessing, really, when he began to show signs. He had never known his parents, and he and his sister were barely getting by, running errands for the local smugglers' guild since they had been old enough to run anywhere at all. His sister, with her mass of oak-brown hair and gentle eyes, was by far the prettiest of all the Alienage girls, and she had had multiple offers of better employment already, but she had been unwilling to leave him and these employers had been unwilling to take him, gangly and awkward as he was. If he went to the Circle, he wouldn’t hold her back any longer - and an upscale brothel was a sight better than the tiny, threadbare room they shared. So although she cried and clung to him and promised to visit as often as she was able, he knew she was relieved, and in truth, so was he.
His first night in the Circle was the first in his recollection that he went to bed with a full stomach. The bed he had been assigned was one of many in a room delegated to the youngest of the apprentices. There were whispers and giggles and flashes of light as some particularly diligent child practiced a basic fire spell, but he was so exhausted and satiated that he fell immediately into a deep sleep, and dreamed of the woods of his ancestors, the gurgle of a stream, the rustle of leaves, voices on the wind.
***
It was the hottest day of the summer when he first met her. He had been hiding from the sun in the shade of one of the statues in the courtyard, biding his time before lunch, watching the sun glint off of Templar armor and feeling fortunate that robes, at least, were made of lighter stuff. He heard her laugh before he saw her, a bright, merry sound in the still haze of the forenoon coming from the small cluster of new recruits, and then she split off from her compatriots to a great deal of catcalling and loped in his direction, her gait easy despite the heat of the day and the weight of her armor.
She was a pretty girl, not quite a woman, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and unruly blonde hairs escaping from the practical tail at nape of her neck, curling against the sheen of sweat on her forehead. She had an easy grin and an air of reckless confidence as she stuck out her gauntleted hand and informed him, “They dared me to come and talk to you.”
It was impossible not to return her candid smile, impossible to resist the outstretched hand, though she nearly crushed his bones in her gauntlet in the process of shaking. “I hope you’ve won something, then,” he responded. Recruits were kept away from apprentices except under the most careful supervision, ‘to keep everyone out of trouble,’ the Enchanters said, but it seemed that the day was too hot for anyone to be bothered with protocol.
“Janaya owes me shaved ice on our next day off,” she said with a laugh. “And Fareth will polish my armor for me for the next week. I’m Meredith. Want a drink?”
She offered him a lukewarm waterskin and he took it without hesitation. A moment of concentration - he had only just mastered this spell - and a thin shell of frost formed on the worn leather. He took a sip of water, now icy cold, and passed it back. “Orsino,” he introduced himself, enjoying the way her eyes went wide when she touched the cold surface.
In an instant, her grin was back, and she took a couple of greedy gulps before pouring some of the water into her hand to splash onto her face. “Maker, that feels good!”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling absurdly proud of himself in the way of a young man who has managed to impress a young woman.
“Looks like I got the better end of that dare,” she said. “I suppose I had better go, before we both get in trouble. See you around?”
He laughed at that. “I’ll be here.”
He thought she looked a little pink - though maybe it was the heat - as she stammered, “Well - good.”
***
They became friends, and then - following a not altogether unexpected and furtive kiss in a deserted storage room - something more than friends. “Fulfilling another dare?” he had asked her, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that he was surely scarlet; she had offered him a sheepish smile and said, “No, I take full credit for that idea.”
***
They snuck out sometimes, late at night, to skulk through silent streets to the temporary freedom of the deserted coast. She would shed her armor and he would shed his inhibitions; they would build a fire and listen to the ocean, a boy and a girl sharing the delightful secret of first love. Her golden hair was silver in the moonlight and her skin was alabaster; without her armor she seemed almost fragile. She was beautiful to him in those stolen moments of freedom, and he told her so though she laughed and denied the truth of his words. They made love on a blanket under the stars, and in the years to come this would be what he would remember - the pounding of the surf, the crackle of flames, her skin slick against his, the pounding of her heart.
“Among the Dalish,” he told her one night, “we could be together.”
She giggled sleepily and responded, “I did not think they liked humans, particularly. Or at all, actually.”
“They would understand,” he said, with the sort of optimism native to the young and worriless.
She said nothing for a moment, then asked in a whisper, “Would you run?”
It was the first time such a question had been voiced between them; he felt it like a weight against his chest, its potential pressing down on him. He was not like many of his fellows in the Circle; he did not feel chained, he did not consider himself oppressed. The Enchanters were kind, and the lessons they taught fascinated him. It was only with her that he wondered, sometimes, if there might be another way. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Would you come with me?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first time he felt the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, trying to wish the newfound awareness away.
***
She took her vows the same week he underwent his Harrowing; by the time he was able to leave his bed and rejoin the Circle’s activities, she was already clad in her new armor and sporting a heavier sword strapped across her back. When their eyes met across the room, hers were glassy and bright - lyrium, he understood instantly, so powerful for the new initiates before they built up an immunity - and although she met his gaze, it seemed almost as though she did not see him.
***
“We should not do this anymore,” she told him, and there was nothing he could do, in truth, but bow his head under the weight of the inevitable and tell her, “I know.”
“This is difficult for me,” she ventured, and he almost hated her, then, for the ease with which she uttered those words. It was difficult, he wanted to say, for them both. The difference seemed to be only that he had been willing to try. But things had changed, and he did not say anything except, again, “I know.”
“Don’t,” she said, looking pained. “Don’t look at me that way. You knew this was going to happen.”
“Did I?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You are no fool, Orsino.”
“Thank you for that, at least,” he responded, knowing the bitterness was evident in his voice.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” she said softly. “That is all.”
He thought then of starlight and woodsmoke and the sound of the sea. Would you come with me? It seemed she had chosen her answer. “There is hardly a need, is there?” he asked, slipping under a veneer of cool indifference to mask the heartbreak. “I’ll be here.”
There were tears in her eyes, or perhaps it was simply the lyrium. Even knowing her face so well, he found he could not tell. She said nothing else, only turned sharply on her heel and walked away.
Author: chaineddove
Fandom: Dragon Age II
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Characters: Meredith/Orsino
Wordcount: 1,421
Disclaimer: I do not own DAII. Believe me, I would love to, but I don't.
Authors' Notes: Meredith and Orsino, before the crazy set in. A summer by the sea, and an ending that cannot be avoided.
"I know the borderlines we drew between us
Keep the weapons down, keep the wounded safe,
I know our antebellum innocence
Was never meant to see the light of our armistice day."
-Vienna Teng, "Antebellum"
***
It was a blessing, really, when he began to show signs. He had never known his parents, and he and his sister were barely getting by, running errands for the local smugglers' guild since they had been old enough to run anywhere at all. His sister, with her mass of oak-brown hair and gentle eyes, was by far the prettiest of all the Alienage girls, and she had had multiple offers of better employment already, but she had been unwilling to leave him and these employers had been unwilling to take him, gangly and awkward as he was. If he went to the Circle, he wouldn’t hold her back any longer - and an upscale brothel was a sight better than the tiny, threadbare room they shared. So although she cried and clung to him and promised to visit as often as she was able, he knew she was relieved, and in truth, so was he.
His first night in the Circle was the first in his recollection that he went to bed with a full stomach. The bed he had been assigned was one of many in a room delegated to the youngest of the apprentices. There were whispers and giggles and flashes of light as some particularly diligent child practiced a basic fire spell, but he was so exhausted and satiated that he fell immediately into a deep sleep, and dreamed of the woods of his ancestors, the gurgle of a stream, the rustle of leaves, voices on the wind.
***
It was the hottest day of the summer when he first met her. He had been hiding from the sun in the shade of one of the statues in the courtyard, biding his time before lunch, watching the sun glint off of Templar armor and feeling fortunate that robes, at least, were made of lighter stuff. He heard her laugh before he saw her, a bright, merry sound in the still haze of the forenoon coming from the small cluster of new recruits, and then she split off from her compatriots to a great deal of catcalling and loped in his direction, her gait easy despite the heat of the day and the weight of her armor.
She was a pretty girl, not quite a woman, with a dusting of freckles across her nose and unruly blonde hairs escaping from the practical tail at nape of her neck, curling against the sheen of sweat on her forehead. She had an easy grin and an air of reckless confidence as she stuck out her gauntleted hand and informed him, “They dared me to come and talk to you.”
It was impossible not to return her candid smile, impossible to resist the outstretched hand, though she nearly crushed his bones in her gauntlet in the process of shaking. “I hope you’ve won something, then,” he responded. Recruits were kept away from apprentices except under the most careful supervision, ‘to keep everyone out of trouble,’ the Enchanters said, but it seemed that the day was too hot for anyone to be bothered with protocol.
“Janaya owes me shaved ice on our next day off,” she said with a laugh. “And Fareth will polish my armor for me for the next week. I’m Meredith. Want a drink?”
She offered him a lukewarm waterskin and he took it without hesitation. A moment of concentration - he had only just mastered this spell - and a thin shell of frost formed on the worn leather. He took a sip of water, now icy cold, and passed it back. “Orsino,” he introduced himself, enjoying the way her eyes went wide when she touched the cold surface.
In an instant, her grin was back, and she took a couple of greedy gulps before pouring some of the water into her hand to splash onto her face. “Maker, that feels good!”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling absurdly proud of himself in the way of a young man who has managed to impress a young woman.
“Looks like I got the better end of that dare,” she said. “I suppose I had better go, before we both get in trouble. See you around?”
He laughed at that. “I’ll be here.”
He thought she looked a little pink - though maybe it was the heat - as she stammered, “Well - good.”
***
They became friends, and then - following a not altogether unexpected and furtive kiss in a deserted storage room - something more than friends. “Fulfilling another dare?” he had asked her, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that he was surely scarlet; she had offered him a sheepish smile and said, “No, I take full credit for that idea.”
***
They snuck out sometimes, late at night, to skulk through silent streets to the temporary freedom of the deserted coast. She would shed her armor and he would shed his inhibitions; they would build a fire and listen to the ocean, a boy and a girl sharing the delightful secret of first love. Her golden hair was silver in the moonlight and her skin was alabaster; without her armor she seemed almost fragile. She was beautiful to him in those stolen moments of freedom, and he told her so though she laughed and denied the truth of his words. They made love on a blanket under the stars, and in the years to come this would be what he would remember - the pounding of the surf, the crackle of flames, her skin slick against his, the pounding of her heart.
“Among the Dalish,” he told her one night, “we could be together.”
She giggled sleepily and responded, “I did not think they liked humans, particularly. Or at all, actually.”
“They would understand,” he said, with the sort of optimism native to the young and worriless.
She said nothing for a moment, then asked in a whisper, “Would you run?”
It was the first time such a question had been voiced between them; he felt it like a weight against his chest, its potential pressing down on him. He was not like many of his fellows in the Circle; he did not feel chained, he did not consider himself oppressed. The Enchanters were kind, and the lessons they taught fascinated him. It was only with her that he wondered, sometimes, if there might be another way. “I don’t know,” he told her honestly. “Would you come with me?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first time he felt the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, trying to wish the newfound awareness away.
***
She took her vows the same week he underwent his Harrowing; by the time he was able to leave his bed and rejoin the Circle’s activities, she was already clad in her new armor and sporting a heavier sword strapped across her back. When their eyes met across the room, hers were glassy and bright - lyrium, he understood instantly, so powerful for the new initiates before they built up an immunity - and although she met his gaze, it seemed almost as though she did not see him.
***
“We should not do this anymore,” she told him, and there was nothing he could do, in truth, but bow his head under the weight of the inevitable and tell her, “I know.”
“This is difficult for me,” she ventured, and he almost hated her, then, for the ease with which she uttered those words. It was difficult, he wanted to say, for them both. The difference seemed to be only that he had been willing to try. But things had changed, and he did not say anything except, again, “I know.”
“Don’t,” she said, looking pained. “Don’t look at me that way. You knew this was going to happen.”
“Did I?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “You are no fool, Orsino.”
“Thank you for that, at least,” he responded, knowing the bitterness was evident in his voice.
“I wanted to say good-bye,” she said softly. “That is all.”
He thought then of starlight and woodsmoke and the sound of the sea. Would you come with me? It seemed she had chosen her answer. “There is hardly a need, is there?” he asked, slipping under a veneer of cool indifference to mask the heartbreak. “I’ll be here.”
There were tears in her eyes, or perhaps it was simply the lyrium. Even knowing her face so well, he found he could not tell. She said nothing else, only turned sharply on her heel and walked away.