Samahlen

Ending

Wraith released his hold on Alistair's fingers after a quick squeeze.  The oars dipped and rose, the gentle sound of the water gliding along the prow almost hypnotic.  He dared a sidelong glance at the human, relieved to see that Alistair looked unconcerned by the quick handclasp.  The hunter gave a mental sigh as he wondered what had prompted him to take Alistair's hand like he would have taken Tamlen's.

Thinking of Tamlen was painful for Wraith.  As much as he knew better, Wraith was finding it hard to forgive himself for not searching the ruins a little harder, a little longer.  Keeper Marethari had not been angry with Wraith, nor did Hahren Paivel have harsh words for the stricken hunter.  Indeed, everyone had treated him as gingerly as if Wraith could be expected to succumb to a fit of raging hysteria at any moment.  Whether it was the darkspawn sickness that caused such solicitous behavior, or if the elders of his clan had understood the depth of his loss, Wraith could not say.  In the face of all that quiet sympathy, Wraith had instead buried his grief away and turned a stoic face toward his clan as he prepared to depart with Duncan.

Now, sitting in the boat beside Alistair, Wraith felt the grief anew.  He looked up at the stars littering the sky, drops of the sun's blood that Elgar'nan had scattered, and he remembered the first time he had kissed Tamlen.  It had been such a fumbling thing, neither one of them quite sure what to do, but yearning for the taste of each other.  Teeth had clicked against teeth, tongues probed tentatively before both young elves had relaxed and let the kiss deepen on its own.  In that kiss, Wraith had found a sense of completion.  He was exactly where he wanted to be, for the first time in his life.

Wraith and Tamlen both knew it could not last.  It would be their duty to take a wife, to increase the clan's size by raising families, and they would not shirk that duty.  Yet hearts longed for love, not duty, and Wraith and Tamlen had found it with each other as they hunted side by side, their vallaslin still bright and new.  They had even received their tattoos on the same day, these constant companions,  Tamlen's resembling the branches of a mighty tree, and Wraith's twined around itself like the elegant horns of the halla.  Neither had so much as flinched nor made a single sound during the process, and afterward Ashalle had made them a special meal to show her pride.

Wraith felt a small sigh escape his lips as he remembered tracing Tamlen's vallaslin with one trembling finger after that first kiss.  Tamlen had laughed then, a joyous sound that had startled some nearby birds, and their cries of alarm and the whirring of their wings had mingled with the trust in Tamlen's eyes as Wraith drew him into another kiss, fingers already dancing across the straps of Tamlen's armor as they sank to the soft forest floor.

That was the past, though.  Wraith and Tamlen had entered the ruins in the forest, and Tamlen had touched that damned mirror, and the world had exploded in white pain.  Wraith had been pulled along by everything that had happened since – Duncan, Ostagar, Lothering.  And now Alistair looked to Wraith to lead them, to make the decisions of where to go, which ally to seek out.  It would have been easy to assume that Alistair was weak, or foolish, but Wraith did not think the human was either of those things.  It was a thing that made Wraith almost dizzy with apprehension, this trust that Alistair placed in him.  Alistair was too astute beneath his ready jokes to be a fool, and his skill in battle showed that he was not weak.  A Dalish hunter, however, put the good of the clan first, and Alistair responded to Wraith as he would to Duncan, seeing the natural leadership in the elven hunter.

Wraith dared another sidelong glance at Alistair, and this time the human was looking at him, a small smile on his face.

"We're almost there," Alistair remarked.  "Nervous?"

Wraith smiled slightly in return.  "Apprehensive," he replied.  "You?"

"Scared spitless."  Alistair gave a rueful chuckle.  "The prospect of facing abominations does that to me."

Wraith shook his head slightly.  "We'll manage."

"How do you do that?  Sound so sure, I mean?" Alistair asked.

"It's called trying to convince myself," Wraith said dryly.

Now Alistair laughed.  "Thank the Maker.  Seriously, I was beginning to think you weren't human."

"I'm not," Wraith retorted, amused.

"You know what I mean," Alistair said.  "You always seem like you're in control.  Don't you ever want to just yell, or hide?"

"Most of the time," Wraith admitted.  "But we can't do that, can we?"

Alistair grew somber.  "No, we can't.  There's an archdemon out there somewhere, and we both know it."

"So we go on."  Wraith shrugged.  "And we look out for each other."

Alistair grinned.  "Definitely that."  He turned his head to look out over the water.  "Look, there's the dock."

Wraith watched Alistair as the human pointed.  He was so unlike Tamlen, and yet there was something about Alistair that woke that same yearning in him.  It seemed too soon, and yet it also felt so right to see Alistair as more than a mere companion forced on Wraith by chance.  Tamlen's loss had been an ending, and it was time for Wraith to accept that.

Alistair had turned back to Wraith.  "I meant it, you know, about looking out for you." 

Wraith looked into Alistair's eyes, seeing past the words to the promise beneath them, the offer of something more, a beginning held out like a bright jewel.

"I know, and I'm glad of it, lethallin."  Wraith grinned suddenly, and the future was not so dark after all.

Prompt word: Ending

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