When I Look at You (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Birthday

They journeyed on for a few days. Una decided not to go to Soldier's Peak for right now—it wasn't such a pressing task, and they wanted to see that Arl Eamon was healed as soon as possible. She knew Alistair worried about the older man quite a bit. They camped not far from the old Warden base, seeing the towers peeking out from above the trees.

It was no longer surprising to the rest of the group—if it had been to begin with—that the two Wardens were sharing a tent. The change in their relationship was in the very air around them, as the days had turned into one long bout of foreplay. The teasing, the touches, the caresses, the kisses ... the two of them had become quite sickening to be around. Even the mabari had taken to avoiding them. Not that Una and Alistair noticed or cared, particularly. They enjoyed the extra time together.

Today had been a bit different, though, and Alistair wasn't sure why. Una had been not exactly prickly, but definitely standoffish. Not only from him, but from the whole party. He'd caught her staring off into space, looking sad, more than once, but when asked, she had said only, "It's nothing. I'm fine." Given the way she was clinging to the mabari, he thought it might have something to do with her family, but she wouldn't give him any answers. She called an early halt to the day's travel, and as soon as the tents were up, asked Alistair for some privacy and disappeared into theirs.

"Lovers' quarrel?" Zevran asked, his tone sugary sweet.

Too bewildered even to be irritated at the Antivan, Alistair shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "Not that I'm aware of. She doesn't seem angry. Just sad."

"Ah," said the elf. "Angry women can be ... amusing to deal with. Sad women? They are traps that a man can mire in and never get out of alive."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alistair muttered. Since he was no help standing around in camp wondering what was going on, he decided to go and collect firewood. Lots of firewood.

Inside the tent, Una sat with the vellum spread out in front of her.

Dear Mother and Father,

How I miss you. The people I'm traveling with have become ever more important to me—some of them are like family, or more, now—but today they cannot make up for what I have lost. So much has happened to fill you in on. Father, Mother—I went back to the battlefield at Ostagar. I saw what the darkspawn had done to King Cailan's body, and we killed many of them for it. But neither Grenli nor I saw any trace of Fergus. I still have hope that he is alive somewhere, but where I do not know. No one I've spoken to has heard from him.

We saved the boy, Connor! He lives, as does his mother. Now we are trying to save the Arl himself—but the only way this can be done is by hiking up into the mountains, following the work of an Andrastean scholar, to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes. If it's only a myth, the Arl is doomed. It's a lot to bear, the Blight and the Arl and all of it. But I am not alone. I have Wynne, the mage who joined us at the Tower. She reminds me of you, Mother—stern and strict, but it covers the great affection she bears us. Leliana, who has become my dear friend. Morrigan, who illustrates many of General Cairados's finer points about friends and enemies. Grenli, of course, my faithful friend and the one without whom I could not have gotten through this day. Zevran, the elven assassin, who says little and watches much and keeps his own counsel and I think is learning to like us, but slowly. And Alistair. Who loves me! So much has happened in that area—he gave me a rose in the Tower, kissed me in Redcliffe, told me he loved me in Denerim. And now we are together and it is everything I had hoped for. Everything I used to dream love would be while watching the two of you. What the future may hold, I dread to think. But we have today, and probably tomorrow, and beyond that I dare not speculate.