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Samahlen	By : BronxWench Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1569 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no money from this story.

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The Gift

Wraith looked over at the taller shem as they walked down the path alongside the Imperial Highway. Alistair had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since they left Lothering. Wraith could not help but wonder if it had something to do with the dreams they both had when they had camped that night. Wraith was still unsettled by the memory of that song, the haunting beauty that masked unspeakable corruption. While Alistair had been a Grey Warden for longer than Wraith, the hunter did not think it was any easier for the shem.
Behind them, the qunari and the red-haired woman talked quietly, or rather the woman talked and the qunari grunted one word responses. The witch, Morrigan, ghosted behind them all, inscrutable, her eyes wary. Although Alistair seemed to loathe the witch, Wraith found her tolerable. His experiences with humans had rarely been good, but although she could be caustic, she treated all of the party with equal disdain. It was curiously refreshing.
Alistair sighed, and Wraith found his attention drawn back to the shem. The human, Wraith thought wryly. He was becoming less easy to dismiss as just another shem. Wraith watched Alistair scrub a hand through his close-cropped hair, the last of the sunlight making it look flame-kissed. His open face was easy enough to read for the hunter and Wraith found himself smiling slightly.
"Alistair." Wraith did not bother to look up at the man. "It might help to talk, you know."
Alistair looked briefly startled, and then his cheeks darkened slightly. "So, basically, I'm just an open book, is that it? Alistair the Obvious." He let out a small snort that might have been laughter.
Wraith shrugged in response. "If you like." He shot a sidelong glance at the other Grey Warden.
"Do I like that I'm obvious?" This time it was clearly a laugh. "Well, I suppose as long as it's only you that can read me like an open book..." Alistair was still blushing slightly, but he looked less troubled and Wraith found himself oddly pleased by that.
"Did I say that only I could read you?" Wraith did grin now, and watched Alistair relax even more. "I thought I'd return the favor, for the other night, the dream."
"Fair enough," Alistair grinned. "Although you really don't have to do that, you know. I was glad to help." His expression sobered. "I was thinking about what we're doing, or trying to do, that is."
"Walking? Talking?" Wraith shrugged again as the jest fell flat. "We are the only ones left. Loghain saw to that."
"I just can't believe he would do something like that," Alistair replied, his hands clenching into fists. "King Cailin, all the other Wardens, all those men, just... dead."
Wraith made no reply other than to watch Alistair. The man's grief and confusion played across his fine features, twisting his mouth into a grimace of sorrow.
"It makes no sense," Alistair continued. "To throw away all those lives, and for what? This is a Blight, damn it, even if the archdemon didn't show up at Ostagar."
"This Loghain is a fool." Wraith's tone was dismissive, and Alistair's face tightened.
"He was the hero of Ferelden, he and King Maric. They freed us from Orlesian rule, to what end? So we can be overrun by darkspawn?" Alistair was growing more distressed as he spoke, which was not what Wraith had intended.
"Then we stop him." Wraith made a curt gesture, a chopping motion, and Alistair flinched.
"Let's just make camp for the night." The human turned away, his eyes dark with bitter frustration.
Wraith let him walk away, unsure how to ease the man's mind. Creators knew, it was nothing easy that lay ahead of them, but it was not the way of the Dalish to dwell on what could not be helped. To keep moving, to seek allies, these things Wraith understood.
Alistair remained silent and tight-lipped as they made camp. It bothered Wraith to see the man like this, and that knowledge bothered Wraith just as much. Wraith was slowly coming to accept the idea that he could be friends with this man. But to open more of himself to Alistair was on the very edge of unthinkable. Yet Wraith found himself turning that idea over in his mind. He remembered a thing he had found, back on the road leaving Ostagar, a small figurine of a robed woman tucked away in a crate. Wraith had put it in his pack with the habitual economy of his people. A thing's usefulness was not always obvious, and the clan Keepers often prized such finds. Even though Wraith knew he could never return to his people, tainted elf that he was, the habit was too well ingrained.
Alistair was sitting by the fire, his meal already finished, and Wraith walked over and sat beside him.
"Alistair." Wraith waited until the man looked at him. "I recall you mentioning that you find things that speak of magic to be of interest." Wraith held out the figurine.
"What is this?" Alistair asked. He turned the figurine over, pleased. The delight on his face made him look younger, and he looked at Wraith.
"I don't know." Wraith shrugged. "I just thought you might like it."
"You're just giving it to me? Like that?" Alistair looked at Wraith, surprise mixing with delight.
"Why not?" Wraith replied.
Alistair shrugged. "Well, we could sell it somewhere. Maker knows, we could use the coin." He held the figurine out to Wraith.
Wraith looked at the man for a long moment. Such a simple thing, to take it back, to sell it to some trader along the way. He gently pushed the figurine back toward Alistair.
"Keep it. It is a gift." Wraith felt a curious weight lift from his heart, and suddenly the task ahead did not feel quite so impossible.

Prompt word: Gift
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