#rose scene

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It had been nearly a week since Alistair and Manon’s argument. While they no longer held any hostility towards one another, their interactions were incredibly awkward and the tension between them was palpable. They kept their conversations to a minimum, and when they stopped in Lothering to shop for supplies, they had elected to go their separate ways.

In truth, Manon missed being at Alistair’s side. He had already forgiven her, but she still felt bitter about the incident. Prior to their fight, she had always felt so safe around him; like she could rely on him no matter what. But after he confronted her, that illusion had shattered. She realized that perhaps she didn’t know Alistair as well as she thought she did. Feeling uncomfortable with her lack of knowledge, rather than talk to him about the issue, Manon ended up distancing herself from Alistair. She knew she was acting like a child, and honestly wished she could just drop the act. She wanted to be his friend again, but there was a part of her that was afraid to let him in. What if she let him get too close and he ended up hurting her?

Gathering her courage, Manon tentatively turned to look at Alistair, who was walking a few feet ahead of her. He carried himself more seriously than when they had first set out from Flemeth’s hut. Was he also trying to keep his guard up? Or…was that sadness in his eyes? Maybe he missed Manon just as much as she missed him…

She let out a small, inaudible sigh. Perhaps it was time to put an end to her stubbornness and talk to him. As she considered how to approach him, something else caught her attention. There was a small bit of movement coming from the tree line. She squinted in an attempt to make it out better. A bush was rustling, but only barely. Was it an animal?

Hesitantly, she pressed forward. It was probably nothing. But less than a minute later, another noise caught her attention. It vaguely sounded like the creak of leather. Leaning closer to Morrigan, she asked, “Morrigan, did you hear-?”

And that’s when it happened. All at once, ten assailants sprung from the greenery, each attacking from a different vantage point. Frantically, Manon pulled out her crossbow and began firing. The assassins moved quickly, swiftly darting between the group with the intention of separating them. She managed to fire one bolt into an archer’s shoulder, and another into the stomach of the rogue who was rapidly approaching her.

She was suddenly taken by surprise, though, when a hand grabbed her collar from behind and spun her around before pressing her firmly against a nearby boulder. Her crossbow fell from her hands in the process and she struggled to free herself from the man’s iron grip.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” he purred with a thick accent.

Her eyes snapped up to look the assassin in the face. He was an elf; dark-skinned with bright golden hair. Had the circumstances been different, his words might have left her flustered. But they weren’t, and she was terrified.

He quickly shifted his position so that his left hand held both of her wrists while the other reached for his dagger. He twirled it playfully before bringing it closer to her throat. “It is almost a shame I have to kill you.”

The seductive nature of his voice severely contradicted his actions. He clearly had no qualms with killing her, as he gave a slight smirk, pressing the blade dangerously close to her neck.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. And it wasn’t just from the close vicinity of the weapon. She found herself paralyzed with fear. The nuances in his voice, as well as his position of dominance, sent her spiraling back to her wedding day. In a flash, all of the horrible memories of the incident came rushing to the forefront of her memory. Once again, she was reduced to a frightened maiden, trembling at the sight of a man who wanted to have his way with her, one way or another.

Even if her weapons were within reach, she doubted she would have been capable of retrieving them. It was all she could do not to break into sobs right there.

She squeezed her eyes tight, willing this to end. As she did so, she caught the sound of armor clanking loudly.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Alistair roared. She barely had time to register his shout before he rushed in with his shield, sending her assailant flying. She fell to the ground in a boneless heap, and struggled to catch her breath. Her heart threatened to leap from her chest, and even in her attempts to calm herself, she couldn’t manage to placate its desperate throbbing.

Quickly, she looked up to evaluate the situation. Alistair and the assassin were going at it rather fervently. Manon had never seen Alistair fight so ferociously before, not even at Ostagar. Help him! She yelled at herself inwardly, and desperately searched the ground for her fallen weapon. She crawled over and reached for her crossbow, but upon picking it up, realized just how much she was trembling. She raised the bow closer to her face, aiming it at the fight, but promptly realized that her efforts to help would be fruitless. She was shaking like a leaf. Even with a steady hand, firing a bolt at the assassin without hitting Alistair would take concentration. If she tried to help in her current state, it would just end in disaster.

Letting out a cry of frustration, she tossed her weapon to the ground and fell to her hands and knees. The memories that had brought on this panic attack still lingered. All she could think of was Vaughan. Her throat constricted and she gagged on the bile that began to surface.  

All of a sudden, a hand reached out to touch her shoulder and she recoiled in response, falling backwards and scooting up against the rock. She softened slightly upon realizing that it was Morrigan who had reached out to her.

“Relax, it is only I,” she said calmly before glancing over her shoulder. “We managed to slay the assassins, and have incapacitated their leader. I assume you would like to question him?”

Unable to speak, Manon nodded slowly, which Morrigan took as a sign of dismissal.

Having finally calmed down a bit, Manon gradually recollected her belongings and brought herself to her feet, exhaling deeply. She slowly made her way over to her companions, who stood around the unconscious assassin, who they had taken the liberty of tying up. She glanced at him hesitantly. He may be harmless now, but what would happen when he woke up? Were the topes tight enough? Did he have any hidden blades that he might be able to reach?

When he began to grunt, she let out a small peep and distanced herself from the spot, standing close enough that she’d be able to hear their conversation, but no closer.  

“Oh….what? I- Oh…” he groaned as he began to stir. He glanced up briefly, coming to realize the situation he was in. “I rather thought I would wake up dead, or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet…”

Crossing his arms, Alistair stated bluntly, “We have some questions for you.”

“Ah, so I am to be interrogated. Let me save you a little time and get right to the point. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens…which I have failed at, sadly.”

Ignoring his attempts at humor, Alistair proceeded with the questioning. “Who hired you to kill us?”

“A rather tassy-turned fellow in the capitol…Loghain, I think his name was.” He furrowed his brow as he attempted to recollect his memory. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Great…” Alistair grumbled. “That man just keeps throwing more pleasant surprises at us…”

“Are we to assume you are loyal to Loghain, then?” Morrigan inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I have no idea what his issues are with you…The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service.”

“When were you supposed to see him next?”

“I wasn’t,” Zevran started with slight hesitation. “If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results…if he didn’t already know.”

“And if you had failed?” Alistair asked condescendingly.

“What can I say, ah? I am an eternal optimist,” the assassin chimed with a smile. “Although the chances of succeeding at this point seem a bit slim, don’t they?” Forced laughter followed his remark, which quickly trailed off when he noticed the lack of amusement on his captors’ faces. “No…I don’t suppose you’d find that funny, would you?”

Alistair’s face scrunched up in confusion and he turned to Morrigan. “I don’t like this…Why is he telling us everything so willingly?”

He let out a small laugh in response. “And why shouldn’t I? I wasn’t paid for silence.”

Thinking over what the assassin said, Alistair pressed his lips together, but kept a distrustful eye on the man. Taking their silence as a cue, Zevran continued onto a new tangent.

“Well, if you are done interrogating me, I have a proposition for you.” He waited to make sure they were listening before he continued. “Here’s the thing…I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. The thing is, I like living, and you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause, so…let me serve you, instead.”

“Absolutely not,” Alistair said curtly.

Morrigan brought a finger to her chin pensively. “Indeed…I regret that I am siding with Alistair on this matter, but I do believe it would be foolish to bring this man along.” She turned briefly to look at Manon. “We cannot know for certain if what he says is true. And while he may not be loyal to Loghain, some compulsion to finish the job may remain. It would be wise for us to end him now while we have the chance.”

Realizing the lack of sympathy in the people that stood before him, Zevran desperately tried to come up with more excuses. Upon noticing Morrigan speaking to Manon, he leaned forward, trying to look at her through the gap between the pair. “My friend, please! I know we may not have gotten off on the best of terms, but I do not wish you any ill will.”

The moment he made eye contact with her, Manon shrunk away, hugging herself and turning her gaze to the ground. “Please…don’t speak to me,” she said at almost a whisper.

Harshly pulling his head back to face him, Alistair glared at the assassin. “Leave her out of this.”

Knowing he’d taken his gaze off of her, Manon risked a peek back at the scene. The fear in the man’s eyes was prevalent, and her brow creased in concern. Was this really the right thing to do? Yes, he tried to kill them, and yes, his actions had provoked a panic attack from Manon, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to kill them…

“Enough talking…Let’s get this over with,” Alistair muttered, shoving Zevran to the ground.

As he reached for his sword, Manon  cried out, “Wait!”

All three heads sharply turned towards her in shock. “I…” she stuttered. “We don’t have to kill him.”

At her comment, Zevran’s face lit up. “Ah, I knew you would come around! I-”

“No,” she said sternly, cutting him off. “Don’t speak to me like I’m your friend. I’m not.” She softened her gaze and turned to Alistair. “He’s not obliged to kill us anymore. We…Shouldn’t we be better than this? We can just let him go.”

“Are you serious?!” he asked, a little louder than he intended. When she flinched slightly at his words, he quickly lowered his volume. “After what he did to us, to you...you want to just let him go?”

“Yes.” Her voice was unwavering and she met Alistair’s gaze with a pained, but determined expression.

“I…” He paused for several moments, trying to come up with an excuse before sighing and sheathing his sword. “Alright,” he admitted reluctantly. “I suppose there’s no arguing with you.”

As he bent down to cut the ropes, Manon dared to step closer to the man. With a disciplined tone, she said matter-of-factly. “This is your one and only chance. You have your freedom, but you are to disappear from our lives. If we ever see you again, we will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?”

“Yes, I understand,” he said, rubbing his wrists from where the rope had been tied. He stretched his arms momentarily before bidding them one last remark. “I suppose my life on the run starts now. Farewell. I wish you luck in your endeavors.”

And with that, he was gone.

------

Unable to sleep, Manon sat in her tent with her legs pulled to her chest. She had had plenty of time to calm down from the incident with Zevran, but the memories of her wedding still tugged at her thoughts. To make matters worse, the ambush meant that Manon never had the chance to reconcile with Alistair like she’d hoped…and right now, she felt far too scared and vulnerable to seek him out.

As if on cue, a voice called out from outside her tent. “Manon? You awake?”

She started slightly upon hearing him call out to her, but replied softly, “Yes…come in.”

Carefully lifting the tent flap, Alistair peeked in, lingering in the doorway. “I was wondering…if you wanted to talk about what happened earlier.”

She hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave a nod of affirmation and he entered, making his way to sit next to her.

“I…” He struggled to find the proper words for what he wanted to say. “Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it seemed like something happened back there.” Turning to look her in the eye, he lowered his voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so scared before.”

Biting down on her lip, Manon shifted her gaze to the side. “It…brought up some bad memories,” she said after a long period of deliberation.

“Would you…would you be willing to tell me about it?”

She wanted to tell him. Truly, she did. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him…It was just incredibly painful remembering that day, let alone trying to explain it to someone else.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can…” she whispered. “Not yet, at least.”

Alistair closed his eyes in contemplation and nodded knowingly. “Yeah, okay. I understand. I’ll…I’ll always be around if you need someone to talk to. You know that, right?”

“I do. Th-thank you, Alistair…”

He gave her a warm smile before getting up and making his way over to the tent before stopping briefly. Without much warning, he quickly spun on his heels and blurted out, “Wait right there! I’ll be back in a second!” He then dashed from the tent in a hurry.

Blinking in surprise, Manon wondered what he was up to. After he was gone for a minute, she started to get up in order to check on him, but that was when he rushed back into the tent, a little out of breath.

“I, uh…” he muttered, panting slightly. “Just gimme a sec.”

She cocked her head to the side, giving him a perplexed expression. Just what was going on?

As his breathing returned to normal, he crouched down next to her. “Hold out your hand.”

She did as he instructed and he pulled his hands from behind his back to place something in her outstretched palm. “Here. Look at this. Do you know what this is?” he asked softly.

It was a rose. A beautiful, vibrant red rose. She stared at it with awe. Not knowing what to say, she asked timidly, “It’s a rose, isn’t it?

A tender smile stretched across his face. “I…picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking ‘How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?’” He turned his gaze to the floor, a guilty look creeping onto his face. “I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn’t. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it…So I’ve had it ever since.”

Giving a small smile, she uttered quietly, “That’s a lovely sentiment, Alistair.”

“I…” He took a deep breath as he attempted to gather his courage. “I thought that I might…give it to you, actually.” Smiling at her sheepishly, he could feel his face flushing red. “In a lot of ways, I think the same thing…when I look at you.”

In that moment, she stopped breathing. The hand that wasn’t holding the rose covered her mouth in sheer shock. He had no idea how much his words meant to her. She felt so foolish that she was taking so long to come up with a proper response.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she breathed. She clutched the rose close to her heart and looked up at him, eyes full of affection. “Thank you.”

He gazed at her with such gentile eyes, smiling with relief on hearing her response. “I’m glad you like it,” he said softly. “I was just thinking…here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven’t exactly been having a good time of it, yourself. You’ve had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It’s all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness…”

Again, Manon was at a loss for words. She worried she might start crying tears of joy. Drawing a blank on what she might say, she instead opted to go for humor. “You know…you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. I was planning on making up with you anyway.”

He let out a hearty laugh in response. “Ah, yes, you got me…this was all an elaborate ploy just to get you to speak to me again.” Leaning in closer with a stupid grin on his face, he asked, “So tell me, is it working?”

She let out a giggle as she shoved him away playfully. “I’ll have to think on it.”

Standing to his feet, he let out another chuckle. “Well, I’m glad the peace offering worked…” As he turned to leave, he paused, his tone softening a bit. “I’m glad I was able to make you laugh…It’s been ages since I’ve seen you smile.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond before he was out the door.

As soon as he left, she returned to looking over the flower, gently stroking its petals. She still couldn’t believe it. The way he spoke of her…it made the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. She continued to stare fondly at the rose before searching through her pack for a journal. She wanted to press it, to ensure it would last forever. Once it was set, she place the book next to her pillow and promptly fell asleep.

She slept soundly, without a single bad dream in sight.