ineedmymods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ineedmymods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ineedmyfics2010-09-13 02:53 am
ineedmymods) wrote in ineedmyfics2010-09-13 02:53 am
Entry tags:
Nobody's Fool
For ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
in_the_blue
Fromashavah
Title: Nobody's Fool
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Many thanks togeo_chick andtrillian_n7 for offering beta reading and canon knowledge. And to in_the_blue for the prompt and for introducing me to Dragon Age: Origins in the first place. I'm rather fond of the Human Noble origin, so when prompted to write Alistair/Female Warden, I went with Elissa Cousland.
Alistair wonders, sometimes, if Elissa knows that anywhere she goes, people can't stop watching her. They can't help listening to what she says. Drawn in by her natural charisma, they find themselves following her lead, almost without thinking about it. She commands attention, and he fancies that even here in camp, everyone's watching her.
Of course, there's the distinct possibility that it's not everyone, just him, and it's a good thing he never voices half the things he thinks. Because if he were wrong about that, he really would look a fool. Wynne's already made a joke once out of the fact that he has difficulty keeping his eyes off Elissa.
It's not like anyone could blame him, right? People just follow her, everyone from Alistair himself to the assassin -- the assassin -- who was hired to kill her. He's still convinced letting that guy tag along was a bad idea. But he hasn't tried to kill them again. Yet. After all, Alistair would be the first to say it's a funny little group that they've got here. But not one of them, not even Morrigan, has ever questioned Elissa as their leader. Even if they didn't agree with her decisions, they've followed her.
Maybe it's because she was, sort of, raised to rule. He doesn't know all that much about her past, but he does know she's the last survivor of the Couslands, one of Ferelden's greatest families. She carries nobility with her, head held high even after all she's been through. He could spot it in her the moment he met her, even if it hadn't all quite fallen into place just who she was. But he grew up in the household of the Arl of Redcliffe. And there's that whole son of the king thing, too. Not that that ever gave him much. So he knows a little something about nobility. He recognised the confidence in her step, the way she holds her head, even the command in her voice when she took the lead in her little group of recruits when they went out into the Wilds.
At first, he was a little afraid of that. He never exactly had good experiences with nobles as his peers. They used to torment him in the monastery, took delight in teasing him and leaving him out of things and punishing him for the fact that he was the king's bastard son. Like it was his fault or something. He'd happily walk away from it if he could. And he couldn't have coped with that sort of disdain from Elissa. So he kept his origins secret from her until he couldn't bear it anymore. Even that long ago, he thought ... there was something special about her. After Ostagar, when he was busy falling to pieces and Morrigan was busy mocking him, Elissa saw what needed to be done and did it.
And ever since, she's kept doing that. It can't have been easy for her, the newest of the Wardens. She'd just had her whole family murdered, and then she'd joined the Wardens and lost all of them at once, too. She'd barely even got used to the idea of being a Grey Warden, and there she was, set the seemingly impossible task of trying to build an army and defeat the Blight with just Alistiar and her mabari to back her up.
But she never let the task ahead of get in the way of what's right, of compassion, of helping those who need it. A lot of people think that strength and compassion just don't go together, but Alistair's never believed that. He might have hated a lot about the Chantry, but he does believe in a lot of their values. Including the value of compassion. And if Grey Wardens can't show compassion and help people, who can? That's what they're meant to be about, isn't it? Selfless sacrifice to protect others? Not that she lets it stop her doing what she has to; she manages to balance her interest in people with the ability to make decisions based on logic rather than feeling. Yet she never lets herself lose sight of their duty.
It was when he saw that, time and again, that he really started to ... well. To care about her. To think that she was like that rose in Lothering, one shining beautiful thing in the midst of all the darkness that is their world, no, his world.
Alistair shakes his head; this is all getting ridiculously sentimental, and he knows it. There's no point dwelling on things like this if he's never going to work up the courage to say anything to Elissa. And he's not going to. Because ... she can't feel the same, can she? He's out of her class. Way beneath what she deserves. And it's better not to say anything than to say something and be rejected.
He crouches in the light of the campfire, feeling its warmth on his face and hands, seeing its glow flicker dully off the surface of his armour. He picks up a long stick and prods at a red-hot coal that's fallen to one side of the fire, then tosses the stick onto the flames. They'll need a little more wood before they all turn in for the night; the nights in this part of Ferelden are bitterly cold.
A sharp bark echoes across the clearing they're camped in, and he hears the unmistakeable sound of mabari paws pounding across the grass. Elissa's war dog comes to a sudden stop a few yards away and begins to dig, frantically, barking and wagging his tail. There's the gentle sound of a laugh from over Alistair's shoulder, and he looks up to see that Elissa has come up behind him. She's taken off her gauntlets and is warming her hands by the fire.
Well. Time to stop musing, then. He springs to his feet as best he can in his heavy armour.
"I think your dog is trying to tunnel somewhere," he says.
Elissa shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
"He certainly seems to be interested in something."
"You want to know what I think?" Alistair raises an eyebrow. He ploughs on without bothering to wait to see if she really does; she knows him well enough by now to know that a certain amount of joking is to be expected. "I think he's trying to desert. Tunnel away from the darkspawn and leave us to face the Blight alone. And I thought mabari were meant to be fearsome warrior dogs!"
If Elissa's hound knows they're talking about him, he shows no sign of it, tail waving furiously as his paws send up a shower of dirt.
"Oh? Are you calling my dog a coward?" Elissa lets out another laugh, and Alistair thinks he can count that as a minor victory. She's got such a nice laugh, and she doesn't laugh nearly enough. Not that it's all that surprising, with the Blight and everything. But everyone, even fearless Grey Warden leaders, needs to relax a little sometimes, right? "Maybe he's trying to dig through to the Deep Roads and take them on himself."
"Yes. Right. Your dog will take on the darkspawn singlehanded. Er. Singlepawed. Anyway, we can call off the armies and all go home. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Elissa shakes her head, but Alistair can see the corners of her mouth twitching with a laugh she doesn't quite want to give.
"Ah! Got you! I nearly made you smile!" There's triumph in Alistair's voice, and he's sure there's even more triumph in the look on his face when that really does make her smile. "You don't smile enough, you know. You ..."
Oops. That was a little too much to say, so he doesn't finish that sentence out loud.
"I what?" She turns to face him, and the flickering light of the fire softens the lines of her face and highlights the sparkle in her eyes.
"You're … you're too hard on that dog," he says, quickly. "That's why he's running away. Just you watch, he'll probably steal all our mabari crunches and put them in a backpack and leave. Then you'll be sorry." He waves a scolding finger vaguely in her direction. He's not watching her now, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. But he can tell she's got that look on her face, one eyebrow raised and neither quite annoyed nor amused. That one that she gives him when he's deflected a question with a joke in that way that he has. That annoys her. But it was a stupid thing to nearly say, and it'd be even more stupid actually say it, wouldn't it? He sneaks a glance sideways and sees that he was entirely right about her expression.
But Maker's breath, she's beautiful like this, relaxed, a little less on her guard than normal, and with a little of the sadness gone from her eyes. She handles the pressure of what they're doing well, far better than he could, but it weighs on her. That's part of the reason he jokes around with her so much. She's taken so much on herself, and he really does like to see her smile. Even if he doesn't like the look of mild reproach she's giving him now.
"All right, all right. It's stupid, I know, but I was thinking that you ... well, that you have a beautiful smile." The words come out way too fast, so he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, daring her to tell him just how stupid he is for saying that, to put him down. Wasn't he just saying to himself that he wouldn't say anything to her about how he feels?
Oops.
But it's not like he can hide it forever, is it?
"Well, go on. Tell me I'm an idiot." He's expecting it, and he's carefully not looking at Elissa. He hears that all the time, but it'll hurt a lot more from her than it does hearing it just about every day from Morrigan.
There's silence, except for the dog's scuffling and the sound of a log collapsing part of the fire.
"Well?" He dares to look at her now, and he sees that she's watching him with those deep, wise eyes, and there's no pity in her expression for the fool she's about to let down.
"You're not an idiot, Alistair." Elissa's voice is quiet, and she steps closer to him, reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek. The touch is sudden, unexpected, but entirely welcome. Something jumps in his stomach as her eyes meet his. He doesn't dare move, lest the moment be broken, lest he realise it's all a dream and he's about to wake up to find darkspawn knocking at his tent.
When her lips brush his, it's over so quickly he almost can't believe it happened. He keeps standing there, as stunned as if he'd been struck by magic, as Elissa pulls away, smiling, and bids him goodnight.
The last words he hears as she disappears into her tent are, "You should smile more, too."
She's made sure of that. And maybe, just maybe, he's not as much of a fool as he thought.
in_the_blueFrom
ashavahTitle: Nobody's Fool
Fandom: Dragon Age: Origins
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Many thanks to
geo_chick andtrillian_n7 for offering beta reading and canon knowledge. And to in_the_blue for the prompt and for introducing me to Dragon Age: Origins in the first place. I'm rather fond of the Human Noble origin, so when prompted to write Alistair/Female Warden, I went with Elissa Cousland.Alistair wonders, sometimes, if Elissa knows that anywhere she goes, people can't stop watching her. They can't help listening to what she says. Drawn in by her natural charisma, they find themselves following her lead, almost without thinking about it. She commands attention, and he fancies that even here in camp, everyone's watching her.
Of course, there's the distinct possibility that it's not everyone, just him, and it's a good thing he never voices half the things he thinks. Because if he were wrong about that, he really would look a fool. Wynne's already made a joke once out of the fact that he has difficulty keeping his eyes off Elissa.
It's not like anyone could blame him, right? People just follow her, everyone from Alistair himself to the assassin -- the assassin -- who was hired to kill her. He's still convinced letting that guy tag along was a bad idea. But he hasn't tried to kill them again. Yet. After all, Alistair would be the first to say it's a funny little group that they've got here. But not one of them, not even Morrigan, has ever questioned Elissa as their leader. Even if they didn't agree with her decisions, they've followed her.
Maybe it's because she was, sort of, raised to rule. He doesn't know all that much about her past, but he does know she's the last survivor of the Couslands, one of Ferelden's greatest families. She carries nobility with her, head held high even after all she's been through. He could spot it in her the moment he met her, even if it hadn't all quite fallen into place just who she was. But he grew up in the household of the Arl of Redcliffe. And there's that whole son of the king thing, too. Not that that ever gave him much. So he knows a little something about nobility. He recognised the confidence in her step, the way she holds her head, even the command in her voice when she took the lead in her little group of recruits when they went out into the Wilds.
At first, he was a little afraid of that. He never exactly had good experiences with nobles as his peers. They used to torment him in the monastery, took delight in teasing him and leaving him out of things and punishing him for the fact that he was the king's bastard son. Like it was his fault or something. He'd happily walk away from it if he could. And he couldn't have coped with that sort of disdain from Elissa. So he kept his origins secret from her until he couldn't bear it anymore. Even that long ago, he thought ... there was something special about her. After Ostagar, when he was busy falling to pieces and Morrigan was busy mocking him, Elissa saw what needed to be done and did it.
And ever since, she's kept doing that. It can't have been easy for her, the newest of the Wardens. She'd just had her whole family murdered, and then she'd joined the Wardens and lost all of them at once, too. She'd barely even got used to the idea of being a Grey Warden, and there she was, set the seemingly impossible task of trying to build an army and defeat the Blight with just Alistiar and her mabari to back her up.
But she never let the task ahead of get in the way of what's right, of compassion, of helping those who need it. A lot of people think that strength and compassion just don't go together, but Alistair's never believed that. He might have hated a lot about the Chantry, but he does believe in a lot of their values. Including the value of compassion. And if Grey Wardens can't show compassion and help people, who can? That's what they're meant to be about, isn't it? Selfless sacrifice to protect others? Not that she lets it stop her doing what she has to; she manages to balance her interest in people with the ability to make decisions based on logic rather than feeling. Yet she never lets herself lose sight of their duty.
It was when he saw that, time and again, that he really started to ... well. To care about her. To think that she was like that rose in Lothering, one shining beautiful thing in the midst of all the darkness that is their world, no, his world.
Alistair shakes his head; this is all getting ridiculously sentimental, and he knows it. There's no point dwelling on things like this if he's never going to work up the courage to say anything to Elissa. And he's not going to. Because ... she can't feel the same, can she? He's out of her class. Way beneath what she deserves. And it's better not to say anything than to say something and be rejected.
He crouches in the light of the campfire, feeling its warmth on his face and hands, seeing its glow flicker dully off the surface of his armour. He picks up a long stick and prods at a red-hot coal that's fallen to one side of the fire, then tosses the stick onto the flames. They'll need a little more wood before they all turn in for the night; the nights in this part of Ferelden are bitterly cold.
A sharp bark echoes across the clearing they're camped in, and he hears the unmistakeable sound of mabari paws pounding across the grass. Elissa's war dog comes to a sudden stop a few yards away and begins to dig, frantically, barking and wagging his tail. There's the gentle sound of a laugh from over Alistair's shoulder, and he looks up to see that Elissa has come up behind him. She's taken off her gauntlets and is warming her hands by the fire.
Well. Time to stop musing, then. He springs to his feet as best he can in his heavy armour.
"I think your dog is trying to tunnel somewhere," he says.
Elissa shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
"He certainly seems to be interested in something."
"You want to know what I think?" Alistair raises an eyebrow. He ploughs on without bothering to wait to see if she really does; she knows him well enough by now to know that a certain amount of joking is to be expected. "I think he's trying to desert. Tunnel away from the darkspawn and leave us to face the Blight alone. And I thought mabari were meant to be fearsome warrior dogs!"
If Elissa's hound knows they're talking about him, he shows no sign of it, tail waving furiously as his paws send up a shower of dirt.
"Oh? Are you calling my dog a coward?" Elissa lets out another laugh, and Alistair thinks he can count that as a minor victory. She's got such a nice laugh, and she doesn't laugh nearly enough. Not that it's all that surprising, with the Blight and everything. But everyone, even fearless Grey Warden leaders, needs to relax a little sometimes, right? "Maybe he's trying to dig through to the Deep Roads and take them on himself."
"Yes. Right. Your dog will take on the darkspawn singlehanded. Er. Singlepawed. Anyway, we can call off the armies and all go home. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Elissa shakes her head, but Alistair can see the corners of her mouth twitching with a laugh she doesn't quite want to give.
"Ah! Got you! I nearly made you smile!" There's triumph in Alistair's voice, and he's sure there's even more triumph in the look on his face when that really does make her smile. "You don't smile enough, you know. You ..."
Oops. That was a little too much to say, so he doesn't finish that sentence out loud.
"I what?" She turns to face him, and the flickering light of the fire softens the lines of her face and highlights the sparkle in her eyes.
"You're … you're too hard on that dog," he says, quickly. "That's why he's running away. Just you watch, he'll probably steal all our mabari crunches and put them in a backpack and leave. Then you'll be sorry." He waves a scolding finger vaguely in her direction. He's not watching her now, too embarrassed to meet her eyes. But he can tell she's got that look on her face, one eyebrow raised and neither quite annoyed nor amused. That one that she gives him when he's deflected a question with a joke in that way that he has. That annoys her. But it was a stupid thing to nearly say, and it'd be even more stupid actually say it, wouldn't it? He sneaks a glance sideways and sees that he was entirely right about her expression.
But Maker's breath, she's beautiful like this, relaxed, a little less on her guard than normal, and with a little of the sadness gone from her eyes. She handles the pressure of what they're doing well, far better than he could, but it weighs on her. That's part of the reason he jokes around with her so much. She's taken so much on herself, and he really does like to see her smile. Even if he doesn't like the look of mild reproach she's giving him now.
"All right, all right. It's stupid, I know, but I was thinking that you ... well, that you have a beautiful smile." The words come out way too fast, so he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, daring her to tell him just how stupid he is for saying that, to put him down. Wasn't he just saying to himself that he wouldn't say anything to her about how he feels?
Oops.
But it's not like he can hide it forever, is it?
"Well, go on. Tell me I'm an idiot." He's expecting it, and he's carefully not looking at Elissa. He hears that all the time, but it'll hurt a lot more from her than it does hearing it just about every day from Morrigan.
There's silence, except for the dog's scuffling and the sound of a log collapsing part of the fire.
"Well?" He dares to look at her now, and he sees that she's watching him with those deep, wise eyes, and there's no pity in her expression for the fool she's about to let down.
"You're not an idiot, Alistair." Elissa's voice is quiet, and she steps closer to him, reaching up to rest a hand on his cheek. The touch is sudden, unexpected, but entirely welcome. Something jumps in his stomach as her eyes meet his. He doesn't dare move, lest the moment be broken, lest he realise it's all a dream and he's about to wake up to find darkspawn knocking at his tent.
When her lips brush his, it's over so quickly he almost can't believe it happened. He keeps standing there, as stunned as if he'd been struck by magic, as Elissa pulls away, smiling, and bids him goodnight.
The last words he hears as she disappears into her tent are, "You should smile more, too."
She's made sure of that. And maybe, just maybe, he's not as much of a fool as he thought.
no subject
Alistair is not an easy character to capture. He's ridiculed, mocked, cast aside, used, abused, sent on errands, given titles without authority... not to mention the fact that he was basically banned from the only home he knew by a jealous quasi-stepmother. In true storybook fashion, he's Ferelden's male Cinderella, really, and so he develops this shell of sarcasm and self-effacement thicker than any armor you can equip him with. What I love here is the way you've captured his personality as filtered through his insistence on self-mockery and joking, because that's what he does, and the endless internal monologue you just know he's got going 24x7. He puts up with so much shit from so many people, but he's a sweetheart underneath it all.
I love that you made the mabari a part of the story, and I love the annoyed reference to Morrigan (because honestly, right?) and the way the war (as he's so fond of saying canonically) has a way of bringing people together. I love the details: he's about to wake up to find darkspawn knocking at his tent and this gorgeous line made perfect by the last bit of it: To think that she was like that rose in Lothering, one shining beautiful thing in the midst of all the darkness that is their world, no, his world and I love that it's really focused just on the two of them, despite all the others that are around them all the time, and I really love that you used the "You're not an idiot, Alistair" dialog option. I could go on and on.
I'm thrilled you picked this prompt and I thank you so much for writing it for me!
no subject
no subject
I love seeing Elissa and her strength and nobility and charisma through Alistair's eyes, and his insistent belief that she doesn't smile enough is kind of beautiful. You've done a great job of capturing what's going on inside his head and how uncertain he is, particularly with romance. The way he deflects with humor is priceless. I love it.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject