"You robbed me of my life. I could have been human— I could have been alive, but you took my heart and you murdered it. You made me into this." - Emilie Autumn
Trigger warning: Descriptions of child abuse and vague descriptions of child death.
Alistair's POV
From the moment they entered this quaint village on their journey to Denerim, something had been off with Gwen. Alistair made no claims to be the most observant in their party, but the way she shuffled her feet and ducked her head whenever they passed any of the townsfolk was unusual behaviour for her - well, at least the shuffling feet part, she was rather prone to hiding her face whenever possible. She was never the most socially outgoing, but this was a new side of her he hadn't seen before, and it worried him more than it probably should.
He tried to tell himself that she was probably still dealing with the grief she'd exhumed when she'd found Lucy's grave. Maker's Breath, the sight of her curled up on the ground, sobs wracking her body, had nearly ripped his heart right out of his chest, and his feet right off the ground - though that was due entirely to the root he'd almost tripped on. He'd never seen her so... vulnerable, before. She was always so strong-willed, unbreakable, and when he was being particularly bothersome she could get adorably grouchy.
With Zevran and Darcy on their own mission, Gwen and Alistair had split off to find the apothecary. Their footsteps echoed through the bustling street as they weaved through crowds of people. The air was filled with the sounds of merchants calling out their wares and the clanging of metal from the nearby smithy. In other villages, Alistair had always taken charge of speaking with business owners and locals, his charming demeanour making it easy for them to get what they needed, though Gwen would remain firmly at his side. But this time, it seemed like Gwen was almost hiding behind him as they approached a merchant selling fresh produce. Her fingers fidgeted nervously with her cloak as Alistair confidently asked for directions to the apothecary.
What really tipped him off that something was amiss was the way Gwen shifted uneasily behind him, her usually composed manner now anxious and uncertain. The merchant's suspicious glances towards her only confirmed his suspicions. He could feel her presence hovering behind him, her head bowed and her long hair cascading in front of her face like a veil.
"Is everything alright?" Alistair asked tentatively, looking between the merchant and Gwen.
Her eyes flitted from him to the merchant, then back again, before settling on a patch of grass with intense concentration. She nodded once, her brows furrowed in deep thought, before returning her gaze to the grass as if it held all the answers she was seeking. The green blades swayed gently in the breeze, revealing none of their secrets.
Alistair raised a skeptical eyebrow at the uncooperative merchant, who seemed to be deliberately withholding information. "I don't know where the apothecary is," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if the question was too trivial for him to bother answering. Gwen stood behind him, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground. Alistair could see the frustration building in her body language. The merchant's scowl deepened as he glared at Gwen, appearing strangely hostile towards her. Alistair couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something more going on here than just a simple lack of knowledge about the apothecary's whereabouts - it didn't take a genius to connect the dots that something more was going on here. He decided not to press the issue and instead turned his attention to finding another source of help for their task.
"Right... We'll just do that then." Alistair forced a strained smile onto his face, desperate to ease the heavy atmosphere that had descended upon the group. His voice cracked with false cheer as he tried - and ultimately failed - to dispel the tension that hung thick in the air like a dark cloud. The uneasy silence seemed to press against them, suffocating and stifling any attempt at lightheartedness - he doubted now was a good time for a witty or sarcastic retort, provoking the man any further seemed unwise.
YOU ARE READING
Yet Broken Still You Breathe
Fanfic- '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...
