Yet Broken Still You Breathe

Chapter 24

"Was I raised without love?
Or was I born unloveable?" - Unknown

A low groan escaped her parched lips as her head pounded in agony, each throb feeling like the steady beat of a deafening drum. Her mouth was as dry as sandpaper, filled with scratchy cotton that made it difficult to breathe. Every inch of her body felt battered and bruised, as though Sten and Barkspawn had taken turns jumping on her unconscious form until there was nothing left but a heap of broken and bruised limbs, all tinged with Gwen's distinctive skin tone. But despite the pain, death refused to grant her release. Instead, she was unceremoniously thrust back into consciousness by the sound of an Antivan-accented voice calling out her name: "Gwen?"

Gwen's eyes fluttered open, revealing a hazy world of light brown and pale yellow. The first thing she saw was a tan figure, its face contorted into a warm smile that seemed too bright for her current state. Gwen instinctively furrowed her brow in response, attempting to raise her arm to swat away the blur, but her limbs felt like lead and refused to obey her command.

"I am glad to see you are back to your usual self." A pause, "You are back, yes?"

Confusion swirled in Gwen's mind as she tried to decipher the meaning behind his question. Where had she disappeared to that would prompt such an ask? The journey through the treacherous Deep Roads had been fraught with danger and battles against Darkspawn and monstrous creatures. With each step, Gwen's physical state had deteriorated, marred by bruises and wounds, until it was difficult to discern where her own blood ended and the Darkspawn's began. As they'd delved deeper into the dark tunnels, her pounding headache only intensified. And then, led by a muttering dwarf, they had ventured even further into the unknown, all the way to...

A gasp leapt from her throat as her heart thundered in her chest. Maker, no, it couldn't... she didn't...

She was a monster in every sense of the word.

The tanned blob - Zevran, Gwen belatedly realized - winced, "I see you remember what happened before Alistair had to hit you over the head like a misbehaving drunkard in a bar fight. Not that I do not enjoy bar fights, mind you, just that it is less fun when one of the brawlers does not choose to partake."

Gwen's breath caught in her throat as a flood of memories rushed through her mind, each one more violent than the last. She could feel the heavy weight of shame and regret settling on her chest as she recalled how she had let the Broodmother take control, too weak to resist. And in doing so, she had hurt the people closest to her. Her friends. The thought made her heart ache with guilt. She had betrayed Darcy's trust, and tried to kill Wynne, to kill Alistair.

Bile rose in the back of her throat and she choked it back, tears pricking at her eyes, "I..." She started to apologize, but an 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem enough, it seems like an insult to the severity of her actions. Judging by the tightness around her wrists and ankles, the heaviness of her limbs had not been due to her physical weakness, but rather due to the consequences of her betrayal. And still, she couldn't help the panic that seized in her chest, that all too familiar cut into the scarred skin making memories flash before her eyes. A dark room, metal encasing her face, a bar in her mouth, hot lashes across her back itching and burning as they healed—

Hands pressed gently onto her shoulders, rocketing her back to the present, "You are safe, Gwen. Darcy, Alistair, Wynne, and I have been taking turns watching over you, we will not harm you, you are safe."

Sten was notably absent from that list and it did not surprise Gwen. He had been all for killing her the first time she'd lost control, it would make sense that he was even more for it now that she had actually attacked them.