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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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Moon

The Brecilian Forest was dark against the moon.
Wraith sat on a stump at the edge of the campsite. Behind him, far enough away for their voices to be an indistinct murmur, his companions ate and argued about watches. Wraith himself had little appetite, and had settled for a chunk of bread and a piece of fruit.
Although his clan had gone north, it was entirely likely that there was another clan traveling through the Brecilian Forest. Wraith missed his clan, and yet he was reluctant to look for this other clan. It would be painful to see them, to be reminded that he would never return to that life. Even if he and Alistair prevailed and did slay the archdemon, Wraith was tainted, and that taint would endure until he could not, until he sought his end in the Deep Roads like so many Wardens before him had done. He would not expose his clan to that. Such thoughts were painful, and Wraith closed his eyes and sighed.
Thus occupied, Wraith almost missed hearing Alistair's approach. The man could not be totally silent in splint mail, but he moved with a casual ease that Wraith admired, accustomed to the heavier weight of his armor.
"I was wondering if everything was alright," Alistair said, seating himself on a fallen log. "You didn't eat."
Wraith made a noncommittal noise. While he did not mind Alistair's presence, the elf still had not formed the habit of responding to what seemed to be idle inquiries. He was no storyteller, like Hahren Paivel. Words were treacherous things, slippery and painful.
"So, is it? Alright, I mean," Alistair said into the silence. Now he sounded awkward. "No, of course not. How could it be alright? I'm sorry. It was a stupid question." Alistair began to rise.
"No." Wraith's voice was rusty from disuse. He had barely spoken since setting out from Lake Calenhad, other than when necessity dictated. "I would like the company."
Alistair sat down again, and Wraith turned to look at him. There was a faint color in Alistair's cheeks, and Wraith did not know what that meant. Was he pleased to have been asked to stay, or was he merely embarrassed by his question? Wraith could not more read Alistair, any more than the man could read him. That left only words.
"It wasn't a stupid question, and no, it's not alright." Wraith looked at his hands, resting on his thighs, and imagined he could see the black darkspawn taint crawling through his veins. "How do you stand it?"
Alistair drew in a sharp breath, and Wraith waited for the inevitable joke. Alistair surprised him by remaining serious.
"I don't know," Alistair said. "Some days, I wonder why I lived through the Joining, what it was about me that made me suitable. Most of the answers I can come up with don't make me feel a whole lot better."
Wraith nodded slowly. "I have to believe that we were meant for this because we can succeed. Otherwise, I'm not sure I can go on." Wraith could hear the grief in his own voice. It was so hard to find the right words. "It was easier, before the demon reminded me." Wraith paused, deliberately forced his hands to relax. "When this is done, what happens?"
To his credit, Alistair did not pretend to misunderstand. "We go on. Maybe we can try to rebuild the Wardens here in Ferelden. I don't know, really. Duncan never said, and I haven't been a Warden much longer than you."
Wraith nodded again. He looked up at the moon, high enough now to gild the tops of the trees with silver. "We hadn't been lovers for very long. It was still so new to us. We knew it couldn't last, and that made it just that much more precious."
Wraith turned to look at Alistair, feeling naked before the man. "It would have been enough to remain friends, to raise our families together. Instead, I left with Duncan before the last notes of Tamlen's dirge had finished echoing through the trees."
Alistair's face was etched with sudden grief, and Wraith felt a sharp sympathy.
"Duncan did not even have a dirge. And we were in the tower, too far away to help." Wraith saw the pain flare in Alistair's eyes. He moved, sitting on the log beside the man. "I'm sorry."
Alistair's head bowed, and Wraith pulled him so that his head came to rest on the elf's shoulder. Wraith gripped his upper arm tightly, the metal of the man's armor cool under his hand. A tremor ran through Alistair, and he lifted his head to look at Wraith, and it was not grief that the elf saw in his eyes. The man lifted one hand, traced the line of Wraith's vallaslin as it curled beneath his cheekbone. His lips were dry as they brushed lightly across Wraith's lips, and then Alistair drew back.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that." Alistair's cheeks were definitely darker.
"Don't be sorry." Wraith looked at the man. "Tamlen would not want me to live in the past, and I don't think Duncan would have asked you to stop living because he died." Wraith cupped his hand alongside Alistair's face, feeling the stubble that peppered the strong jaw. "However long we have, I think each day will be worth living."
Wraith leaned in and pressed his lips to Alistair's lips, and this time the man did not draw away. Wraith felt the ice that had surrounded his heart begin to fall away as he smiled into the kiss under the gentle light of the moon.

Prompt word: Moon
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