"I need a father, I need a mother, I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God but the sky is empty." - Sylvia Plath
"I don't plan on making Alistair King, in case you were wondering," Darcy's voice broke the silence of the early morning sunrise and Gwen jumped, yelping in surprise. She whirled around, and fixed Darcy with an unimpressed look, though it did nothing to dampen the amusement dancing in his eyes. The golden hues of the early morning sunlight illuminated their figures, casting a warm glow over the scene.
"You are too quiet for your own good," Gwen grumbled, her heart settling from where it had almost beat out of her chest.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you shrieked in terror because of me." His canines glinted in the low light - like silver daggers in the darkness - as they stood facing each other on the battlements.
Their breaths were visible in the crisp air swirling around them and the wind tugged at the tips of their hair, as if trying to draw their attention
"It was barely more than a gasp." She turned from him, resting her elbows on the stone wall and her chin in her hands. Gwen let out a soft sigh as she watched the sun continue its ascent into the sky. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the thought that this peaceful morning would soon be interrupted by the chaos that awaited them.
"Of course, silly me." Darcy held his hands out in a gesture of innocence, but Gwen was not so easily fooled. She wasn't sure if there was an innocent bone in the elf's body.
Darcy mirrored her stance, his gaze curious and piercing. She shifted her weight uncomfortably, avoiding his intense stare. He always seemed to see through her, and she didn't want to give him any more insight into her thoughts, no need to make it easy for him.
"You didn't react to what I said."
Gwen's stomach churned, "I know."
"Avoiding the topic then?"
"It doesn't really matter, does it? It has nothing to do with me," she lied through her teeth. "What he does after we defeat the Archdemon is of little consequence as I will not be seeing him again, no matter what he chooses." Even if she wished otherwise.
Darcy's breath escaped him in a heavy sigh, his fingers tiredly massaging his eyelids. The deep-set bags under his eyes were evidence of the sleepless night he'd just endured. They seemed etched into his skin, permanent reminders of his exhaustion, slowly growing as they delved deeper into uncertain territory.
"You didn't sleep either?" She asked, grateful for the chance to change the topic.
"I was up late thinking about much the same things you probably were, I imagine, based on how vehemently you defended Alistair before the Arl."
Gwen pursed her lips, she'd been grateful too soon. "Eamon has no right to tell Alistair what to do, especially not after the way he treated him."
"I agree," Darcy inclined his head towards her, "and being King is not what Alistair wants. It would be the safest option politically and I know he would be kind to his elvhen citizens unlike so many others - the best we've gotten so far is indifference - but Alistair... I know he would do what is right and still, I don't want to be the kind of person that makes that decision for him." Gwen's heart squeezed with sympathy as she watched Darcy pace back and forth his brow furrowed in deep thought. He had his own responsibilities and people to protect, yet the image of Alistair sitting alone on the throne staring into the distance with hollow eyes and a firm set to his jaw... Alistair was more than a friend; he was the only one who shared the heavy mantle of being a Grey Warden, understanding the relentless nightmares and the constant fight against the darkness. How could Darcy force him into a life that he would hate?
YOU ARE READING
Yet Broken Still You Breathe
Fanfiction- 'I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break.' - Mary Hornbacher Gwen had spent so long on her own, distanced from the w...
