ineedmyfics | Assassin's Lament

For:

ashavah

Title: Assassin's Lament
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins/Dragon Age 2
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Ahhh, the Antivan assassin. Such a wonderful opportunity to explore him a little more! What a great prompt! Many thanks to

geo_chick for her beta.

"Ah, that song. It is a fine tale, no?"

I am afraid that I cannot stop myself from saying it. Not that I am ever very prone to trying (it so seldom succeeds, so why bother?), but that tale is something I can never keep quiet about. Especially not when I see an enthralled expression on the man beside me in the tavern. Perhaps one could call my reason pride, perhaps the sort of sentiment I was taught not to have so very long ago, but either way, it is there, and like the ballad itself, it is not simple.

I cannot escape, for it is everywhere I have been: Orlais, Nevarra, through the Free Marches and back to my beloved Antiva. Everywhere, they tell the tale of the woman who saved Ferelden and stopped the Blight. No matter how many times I hear it, I can never listen to it without the stir of memories that will not be left behind.

The man turns and glares, an unfortunate expression for features as fine as his, but no matter. The words were no attempt at flirtation, as unbelievable as that may sound from such a handsome rouge as I. It is the song, you see: alas, I cannot be my usual lighthearted self when I hear it. There are different versions of it, different words, different nuances; stories change in the telling, but this one retains some of the flourish and sentiment that were a part of the original. I was there the night Leliana performed it for the first time, lovely in the dazzling raiment of the court, but I could not hear the whole tale. I had lived it and I knew its end, and that end, it is still painful.

It is easier to hear now, but it is still difficult to maintain a smile. So I practice; I have always been the one who laughs, whose flirtation with the beauty in the world is guaranteed, and the Warden would not have wanted that to end simply because that beauty no longer includes hers. Ah, but it has been hard. Harder than hunting down and destroying the most difficult of targets the Crows could ever have given me. Harder than maniacal dwarves, dragons, religious fanatics or an entire army of darkspawn. Harder by far than standing by her side as she gathered the allies to save her homeland.

Of course, it is not harder than facing the Archdemon on top of that fortress, for nothing is harder than watching in helpless impotence as my love drew her sword and charged to meet her death.

Love. It is such a peculiar concept, no? I had never known truly what it meant. I know all the pleasures two -- or more -- people can take in each other. I had known affection, perhaps even infatuation, and of course, the fine art of seduction, but love … no, never. I had fancied, perhaps, that the affection I once felt for Rinna was something like it, but that was not so. I had never known that feeling so strong that it rules your life, until it becomes all you can think about and nothing matters except that it continues. Ah, if I had not wasted time trying to struggle with what that meant for me, I could have made more of the too-brief opportunity I had. The Warden told me on the eve of her death that she hoped for a future between us. That was all I wished for, also, the chance to take the new life she had won for me and spend it in adventuring with her.

There could be new tales to share, to live, with her at my side. We had spent months journeying across Ferelden in search of allies, fighting darkspawn wherever we found them or taking jobs for coin, and after all that was coming to its end, I cared little for the Archdemon or the horde, except for what victory meant to her.

I simply wanted to be with my love. We could have taken Antiva City by storm, faced the Crows and earned my freedom not simply from Taliesen, but from them all, for good. I know with her prowess in battle, we would have done just so. Alas, for it was not to be. She did not know until that last night that the fate of one of the Wardens was sealed, but even if she had, she would not have turned aside. She never ran from death. Alistair tried to persuade her not to sacrifice herself, to let him take the blow and save her life for once as she had saved ours so often, but we both knew what her answer would be.

Ah, to have held her one last time.

We must move on, though. Regret, it does nothing, and though I may mourn my love, she could not have wished grief to rob me of the chance to start afresh. I told her once she must seize the opportunities life gives her, and I shall live by that myself.

A new life, we declared, and that is what I have sought. For a time, I could evade the Crows by remaining in Ferelden, in King Alistair's court, but what was there for me in Ferelden? A certain prestige, perhaps, that came from being a companion to the fabled Hero of Ferelden, as they call her now, the ear of the king, yes, but both those things were more for her sake than mine. Occasionally, I wondered what she would have made of it; I could see the skeptical look in her eye as she stared at the riches we could have had, as she, a mere city-born elf, and I, the son of a whore, became heroes.

No, that life would not have been for her, no more than for me. She had too much adventure in her soul. The Crows learn to move in those circles, to blend in with the targets whose lives we seek, but I have never wanted that comfortable life for myself. I am a killer, to be blunt,and though there were some things the court could offer me, I am nobody's pet. Not even King Alistair's.

Especially not King Alistair's.

So I left. I did not know where I wished to go or what I wished to do, but for a time, I was free, and freedom was something I wished to explore. It is, after all, something I have never before known. I was sold to the Crows as a child and ever since had served at their pleasure. That was not a bad life, but I knew it was a life of servitude, and now I had tasted more, I meant to hold on to it.

If only life could be that simple. I suppose I knew better, but all this time I had believed that those who wanted freedom needed to fight for it. Well, I had fought, so I should now be free, yes?

Imagine her laughter. Ah, that is a fool's wish, and I am no fool. I avoided the Crows for a time, but with the spread of the fame of the Warden and her deeds, so too went the story of the devastatingly handsome Antivan assassin her clemency won to her side. There was to be no fooling the Crows once the tale reached Antiva. They would know that it was I. And the Crows are very good at making sure that news reaches them swiftly. It could only be a matter of time before they put out a contract of their own on me in punishment for my betrayal.

Time, though, was something I could use to my advantage. I may no longer have had the resources of the Crows at my disposal, but I have charms of my own. Not to mention a certain natural talent, Crow training and, on top of that, an advantage that none of them have. None of them fought alongside the best of Ferelden in the Blight.

I was in Orlais when they first found me, but I was ready. One assassin and his traps were nothing. The next one found me in Nevarra, and by the third, I had returned to Antiva. Ah, Antiva, the home for which I so longed. I had left it disenchanted and disheartened with all I was and knew, but still it called to me in a way that nowhere else ever could. That parting could not be the end. Perhaps I could make myself a new home there, or so I thought. A silly little dream that I entertained. If I took on the Crows, I could prove that they could not defeat me and they would leave me be. The Crows can be pragmatic, at times, when it is necessary, and they might decide I was not worth the trouble.

That was overly hopeful. The Crows consider the lives of their assassins expendable, but their loyalty, apparently, is not. I mattered little to them as a Crow, but now, as a renegade, I am unforgivable. Fortunately, I had prepared for that end, and when I took the fight to them, Antiva and the Crows did not know what was coming. I believe my former masters may have underestimated me. I did, after all, fail in the last mission they sent me on. But that was simply the doing of the remarkable woman who was my target, not my own failings, and I proved that to them with deaths. So many deaths that, it seems, their resolve against me has simply hardened.

It is unfortunate, but now, Antiva City is as unwelcoming a place as it was when I first left. And so, here I am, in some little tavern somewhere in the borderlands, listening to the minstrel's tale and watching the door, a dagger by my side that was once my love's.

The Free Marches, I think, will be my next destination. Perhaps there, I can find some of what I seek. I only know this: the Crows will not. Once, I would have died in their name. No longer. Now, I live, and I drink a silent toast.

Mi amor.

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