Samahlen

Dust to Dust

"I thought I would tell you, 'tis most invidious, the way the two of you carry on at every opportunity."  Morrigan fixed Wraith with a dark glare.  "I do not question that there is a certain desire to reaffirm one's survival in the face of near death, but 'tis most unseemly to subject the rest of us to your carnal urges."

Wraith blinked in surprise.  "I wouldn't have thought that you would object so strenuously."

"Because I was reared in the Korcari Wilds, amongst the Chasind folk?  Do you think that growing up with Flemeth for a mother is reason to assume that I am without standards?"  Morrigan seemed genuinely offended, and Wraith found himself greatly surprised.

"In that case, I apologize."  Wraith walked away, utterly puzzled by the stern lecture from the witch.  He would have expected it from Wynne, perhaps, steeped as she was in the teachings of the Chantry, or from Leliana, with her devotion to Andraste.  He might even have understood if it had been the qunari, Sten, with his severe moral code and odd antipathy toward people behaving outside expectations.  But Morrigan? 

Wraith looked over at Alistair, alert and cautious as they made their way back down through the mountain temple with the small pouch of precious ashes.  Wraith still found it a wonder that the awkward and often shy ex-Templar could be such a passionate and tender lover, and that Alistair had chosen to open up that side of himself to Wraith. 

It was just another thing to amaze Wraith, along with the fact that they had survived this far.  Between the darkspawn roaming the land and the treachery of Teryn Loghain, survival had been a doubtful prospect. Not that it was any more certain, given that Wraith and Alistair were the sole remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden, with little hope of reinforcements arriving in time.  Each night, the archdemon's song was clearer in his dreams, and each morning, he felt an aching sense of loss when that siren call faded.

Wraith was afraid to ask Alistair what he heard in his dreams.  Certainly, he heard the archdemon's call as clearly as Wraith did, but Alistair never spoke about it.  Instead, he made his little jokes, and quarreled with Morrigan, and spent his nights in Wraith's tent, the two of them seeking their own version of oblivion in each others' arms. 

And now Wraith had to face the fact that every new day brought them closer to the day when they would need to face the archdemon.  Neither Wraith nor Alistair knew why a Grey Warden was needed to kill the archdemon, but they both knew that it was a question with an answer they most likely would not like.  What would he do if Alistair fell?  Would he find the strength alone to kill the archdemon?  Most likely, he would die as well, and would that be such a bad thing?

Wraith turned that new thought over in his mind.  If surviving meant living without Alistair, would it be worth it?  Wraith found himself unsure.  Tamlen's loss had been hard enough to bear, and he had known that Tamlen was not forever, that they would both have been asked to take wives and rebuild the numbers of the Dalish.  But Alistair spoke of the future as though Wraith had a place in it, at his side, and Wraith had come to believe that it could be so.

Wraith looked again at Alistair, and the man turned, his face lighting up with a radiant smile as his eyes met Wraith's eyes.  Wraith could not help but return the smile, loving Alistair with a sudden fierceness that surprised him.  If Alistair fell, Wraith vowed, then he would avenge his lover before joining him, and if the Creators were kind, then their souls would be reunited on the other side of the Veil.  He had chosen, indeed, and his step was lighter as he hastened to catch up with Alistair.

Prompt word: Invidious

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