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She's ten and already she feels comfort from the familiar weight of the sword in her hands and the strenght of the armour on her back. It is something that makes her mother white with rage, and her father bright with pride, yet she never misses the uncertainty in his eyes when she slashes her brother down again and again, his huffs of annoyance music to her ears.
She wonders why that is.
The court bores her and makes her feel caged, the activities mother calls "lady like" make her feel dull and bland, especially knowing how she can easily be out there doing something worthwile. She's young and excited and there are few things that bring her greater joy than spending a day outside in the dirt with the wind in her short hair and the hum of blade clashes brushing her ears.
She dreams of being a knight, of feeling the thrill of battle for the first time as she gazes at the army approaching her, the vibration of their heavy footsteps signing in her bones, and the sound of the war horns blowing in the distance filling her heart with a strong sense of purpose.
"She'll be a fine warrior, Bryce." She hears the man named Teyrn Loghain tell her father one afternoon as she tries to convince his daughter to come play with her and her brother in the forest by the estate. The young woman nods approvingly, telling her that it is a rare sight for him give compliments. She smiles for the rest of the day and somewhere down the road between her home and the forest, they end up walking hand in hand, a new friendship blooming under the sunset.
One day a lady asks her if she's ever thought about marriage, and after, when her father gravitates towards her, seeing her discomfort, the lady asks him if he's made any arrangements to secure her a proper husband worthy of her name. He looks at her, a mischieveous sparkle in his blue eyes and asks her what she intends to do with her life.
She tells him "I want to be a knight, father, like in the tales!" with all the innocence of a young girl.
And he answers "And so you shall pup, and so you shall"
The lady leaves with a tight smile, her tone of voice displeased and tinged with forced politeness. Her father only laughs and walks away, his hand ruffling her hair before leaving
She believes him
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She's twenty five and she sits in front of a small fire, her whole body shaking as another gust of wind washes over her. She wants to be anywhere but here, she wants to feel what it is like to lie in a bed again, to be warm and comfortable and not be tired and hungry.
Morrigan tries her best to light a proper fire, but the wind is too strong and there is nothing she can do. She shakes her head and apologetically mumbles a faint "I'm sorry my friend" before walking back towards her side of the camp, her body seemingly not affected by the cold.
Zevran and Oghren both offer her brandy and mead respectfully, each of them telling her that it would light her veins on fire. She never was one to drink alcohol, and not being in the mood to wake up the next morning with a hangover, she leaves them to their celebrating.
She doesn't bother asking Sten or Shale as they both seemed immune to the chill and oblivious to anyone else's discomfort. She doesn't want to explain the concept of feeling cold to a golem, it would surely take all night.
Leliana retires before all of them, saying with that soft voice of hers that "I can't feel cold when I'm asleep, can i?"
Had she known that she wouldn't wake up screaming in the middle of the night once again, she would have joined her, but instead, she stays where she is.
But then Alistair appears by her side with a smile that could have, with it's radiance alone, made her feel warm again, a small blanket in his hands, barely large enough to cover both of her shoulders. It's virtually useless, but she smiles back at him, her cold hands reaching for his freezing ones in a show of thanks.
"It's going to be over soon." He tells her
Somewhere she knows that he's not only talking about how her whole body is shivering.
And she believes him.
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She's twenty seven and she's sitting in front of the same fire, her face wet with tears as she stares at the roaring flames as intensely as she can. She refuses to cry over him, she refuses to cry over them, and she refuses to cry about her life. She refuses to let another tear slide down her cheek, she refuses to show weakness.
But every time she tries, everything comes crashing down again, and not even her determination can keep the tears at bay.
She won her battle, she defeated the Archdemon and yet, after everything, she is useless again. She has no purpose, she does not care for the Grey Wardens and she wishes with all her being that she could be that ten year old girl again, the one that dreamed of being a knight that went on the wildest of adventures.
She wants to tell her that not everything has a happy ending and that at the end of the road, she ends up alone and empty.
They all left her, each of them having to deal with their own problems and truly, she can't blame them, they were together out of necessity and now, nothing bound them to each other.
But then she thinks of Zevran's colourful stories, of Leliana's beautiful voice, of the late night conversations she would have with Morrigan that always ended up with the both of then on the ground laughing, of Oghren's horrible jokes, Sten's blunt but truthful advice and Wynne's soothing words.
She thinks of the evenings they would spend together, the stories they would share and the laughter that would give life to their small camp, and she knows that those will never happen again, that they probably won't all be reunited for one last night, and she feels the weight of the world crash on her shoulders.
But above all, she misses Alistair, with his easy laugh and warm smile. She can't help but think that it is her that drove him away and nothing else, that if she hadn't made that decision, that if she had consulted him about it, hell if she had paid attention to what he had been feeling at the time that maybe, just maybe, he would still be with her today, and that she wouldn't feel so isolated.
She feels something shift besides her and she sees the dark haired man sit down at her side, his gaze as focused on the fire as hers had been previously.
She feels strange around Loghain and it takes her a few days to realise that it's because she no longer feels burning hatred towards him, it takes her a week to realise that she never felt it to begin with.
He would always call her "Lady Cousland"
And she always reminds him that she is no longer the little girl he had known so long ago.
To which he answers "It is true, but I am right in saying that the little girl I knew so long ago would be positively in awe at the woman sitting besides me."
It makes her feel better, if only for a short while.
There is a silent understanding between the both of them and she wonders if he has ever felt as lonely as she does now. She recalls his days in her family estate with his daughter, his ice blue eyes tired and unfocused as he listened to her father, and it is now that she understands why he would always, for some reason or another, end up in the back of the room when the nobility of Ferelden would meet.
She starts seeing him as a man and not as a legend.
"You've been crying" he says, to which she chuckles and sniffles loudly, trying in vain to hide the wet trails on her cheeks.
She sees his hand reach for her other cheek, his thumb brushing a lone tear before letting it slide down to her shoulder, his grip strong and sure as he tells her that she isn't alone, that in this messed up world they live in, they're a team.
His expression is uncertain and his mouth is still stuck in it's eternal thin angry line, but she sees the determination in his exhausted eyes and she wonders, as her hand reaches to clasp his in thanks, if she's not the only one he's trying to convince.
She believes him.
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Years later, when she packs up her camp, shouting to her companion that he should check his bag again to be sure that he hasn't forgotten anything, she looks at her hands, large and callous, and wonders when that happened.
She can almost see them as they were years ago, long and delicate yet still showing signs of work. A lady's hands, her father would call them, and she would laugh, telling him that she was hardly a lady, to which he would wink at her, identical smirks on their lips.
And then he's next to her, taking her hands in his rough ones and she's glad that they fit in his so perfectly. He looks at her, his eyes soft and understanding as he kisses both of her palms before placing his lips on her forehead.
"I love you" he whispers against her skin, and she knows that he means it.
It has been a long time since she has been crowned the Hero of Ferelden and it's been long since she has seen the green forests of her homeland, but she still loves it, and she still dreams of the day she'll be able to go back to Highever to see her brother, and the family he might have built.
She feels like an alien in this curious land, and even though it's been more than ten years, she still doesn't understand how it works and she doubts that she ever will. She is here out of obligation and she knows that no matter how hard she tries, she will always hate it with the same passion as the day she first entered it's borders.
She let's her mind wander sometimes, let's it remember the hot burning sun as she used to train in the courtyard of her castle with her brother, gritting her teeth at his smart mouthed comments. She let's it go back to her travels with her companions, companions that she seems to see everywhere yet nowhere.
She still hopes, after all these years, that she will be able to find Alistair again, even though she knows it to be an impossible request, as Loghain seems to remind her every chance he gets.
"How could you care so much for him" he asks her as they lay under the stars one night.
She chuckles at his sour expression before speaking. "Some things belong to the past, my love, this is one of those things."
He pulls her to him and never speaks of it again, she is thankful.
She contemplates her words that night, the breathing of her love loud yet comforting in her ears and she realises that after so long, it is time to let the stories of her past go, like he has done before her.
She looks back at all that has happened since the day Duncan dragged her by force into this strange and confusing world, a world that she remembers hating with every fiber of her being, but that she now accepts as not only a part of her life, but a part of her.
She thinks about that night long ago, when Loghain held her in his arms as she cried, his embrace stiff and uncertain, yet filled with as much comfort as he could give her and she thinks that finally, after everything, that it will be fine, that she's not alone anymore and that she has finally found her calling.
And she believes it.