Fic Prompt: 'Stolen'

[ashstoner_021]

Title:  Stolen
Characters:  Alistair/f!Tabris ('Ren'), minor cameos by Soris, Taedor, Wynne, Leliana and Morrigan... oh and Sten and Shale are mentioned.  There I think I covered all my bases XD
Rating/Warnings: PG at best for language (Renny tends to have a rather colorful mouth sometimes)
Word Count:  3428
Summary:  Fireside chat leads to childhood memories.  Spines are stiffened, and gifts are given.  I suck at summaries today.

“Soooo,” Alistair drawled, “what sort of traumatic childhood situations have left the kid inside you ready to throw a tantrum?” The question was addressed to the pig-tailed elf sitting next to him in front of the fire. The two were on watch duty, and to pass the time Ren insisted on poking and prodding him about his past. How were you raised, Alistair? What was it like as a stable boy, Alistair? Did you ever step in horse muck, Alistair? I bet that smelled awful! He decided it was his turn now, and after tossing the small twig he had been twirling absently into the flames, he turned his eyes toward his partner.

“Well,” the elf snickered, bringing the communal flask of weak alcohol down from her lips, “I don't have anything as exciting as flying dogs to share, but I suppose I can dig something up.” She slid off the log they had perched upon, onto the ground, leaning her elbows back against it, “hmm, alright I got one. When I was little, my mum gave me a giant bear for my name day. It was soft and full of this weird fluffy stuff. You've seen it, right? That white fuzzy stuff--” his silent nod encouraged her to get back on track, “ah okay, anyway I loved that bear. I mean I wouldn't let it out of my sight most of the time!”

“I can just picture you of all people snuggled up to a toy,” Alistair chuckled, “you don't exactly strike me as the cuddly sort.” That earned him a jab behind his knee.

“Funny guy, now can I please finish my story?” Another laugh and a nod gave her the answer she sought, and she continued, “eventually I stopped carrying it around like a growth on my body, but I still slept with it every night,” a sad smile crossed her face, “I miss that damned thing so much, sometimes.”

“What happened to it?”

“Well, one day my cousin Soris and his friend Taedor were at the house. Taedor and I never got along very well, he was always picking on me for being small, and I'd respond by beating the piss out of him. That day, he decided it'd be funny if he stole Mr. Fuzzums and hid it from me.”

Alistair couldn't help the guffaw that erupted from his chest, “wait, Mr. Fuzzums?! What kind of a name is that?”

“I was eight when I came up with it, so shut your trap!” Ren couldn't help but laugh as she slapped him hard on his shin. Forgetting that he was still wearing his greaves, she immediately regretted the decision, “ow...”

The ex-Templar sniggered, trying very hard to control his giggling, “Sorry, sorry, okay I'll behave. So you said this Taedor stole your bear?”

Remembering that she was in the middle of a story, the elf continued, “yeah, stole him right off my bed while Shianni and I were out. I forget where we were exactly, she had dragged me somewhere I didn't want to go. She was always good at that,” Ren sighed, turning brown eyes up to the sky,” when we got home, I went to go lay down for awhile, and that's when I saw my bed was empty.

“I was furious. I asked my Da if he knew what happened to it, but he didn't. All he told me was that Taedor and Soris had been in there earlier. I had my answer, so I all but flew out the door and went to find them,” she smirked as the memories came flooding back, “I didn't even wait for Tae to start talking, I dove at him and began to beat the shit out of him.”

“You must have been a very traumatizing child to be around,” Alistair mused, suddenly remembering how the elf tended to attack darkspawn, “although now that you mention it, that does answer a few questions about your technique...”

“Anyway,” Ren growled, “once Soris managed to pry me off, he whined that the two didn't have the bear anymore. I don't really know what happened to it, I think Taedor stashed it somewhere that he thought was safe, but it went missing after that,” a sort of sad, melancholy smile crossed her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes, “when he found out how much it meant to me, he wouldn't stop apologizing for weeks.”

When she didn't continue, Alistair tentatively laid a hand on her shoulder, “he didn't know it was from your mother, did he?”

She snorted, “he did, he just didn't realize that it was the only thing left that I had to remind me of her at that point in time,” her voice dropped down, barely above a whisper, “I'll never have that back.”

Alistair swallowed hard, his eyes staring through the fire. Subconsciously, his hand moved from the elf's shoulder to her hair, brushing over it lightly in the soothing, comforting gesture that he'd come to know she liked, “I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

Ren sniffed lightly, bumping his knee with her shoulder, “don't be sorry you oaf, you didn't know any better. Besides, it's actually kinda' nice to talk about it. I mean, even though it's gone, I still remember my mum fondly, and that's all that matters right?”

He nodded, his other hand going to his chest, where his mother's amulet laid against his skin in a cool reminder. He was the exact opposite of Ren; she had no token of her mother, but the memories were strong... while he had no memories, only a small and
barely-repaired piece of jewelry.

Alistair felt her shift beneath his hand as she cleared her throat nervously. Remembering that his hand was still on her head, he jerked it back, flushing slightly as she stood. She smiled and laughed, “I'm uh... I'm gonna go wake Leliana. Shift's almost over and whatnot...” As she moved toward the bard's tent, he wasn't sure if the redness in her cheeks was from the fire, the flask, or from embarrassment, but he was glad that she felt him worthy enough to share such a memory with.

 

 

It was several days later, on a trip to Denerim, before Alistair had the opportunity to act upon the discussion he and Ren had partaken in that night by the fire. He was still licking his wounded pride from his so-called sister's verbal abuse. If he didn't know any better, however, he'd swear that Ren was more irked about it than he was; she had thrown back the same vile, acidic tone toward Goldanna that the woman had spewed at Alistair, threatened to 'cut her serpent tongue from her mouth while she slept', then grabbed his arm and dragged him out the door. There she proceeded to growl and hiss like a cornered alley cat, flailing her hands through the air as she seethed and spat that 'the world was full of ungrateful assholes, and people are only out for themselves'.

Maybe she is right, he mused, it's not like I've ever had a chance to make my own decisions. Everyone in my life has always done what was best for them, not for me. Maybe it really is time I look out for myself... As the silent group passed by the middle of the Market District, a stand happened to catch his attention, and he found himself smiling a little, then again, who says I can't look out for the both of us while I'm at it. Seeing that their fiery leader wasn't paying attention to him, he gently grabbed Leliana's arm, “I need you to do a favor for me.” The bard's lips bloomed into a smile as she watched Alistair pay the vendor for his prize, then subtly shoved it toward her, “sneak this back to camp and hide it in my tent, I'll tell the others that you were feeling ill.” She nodded knowingly, slipping back into the crowd behind them.

By the time he caught up with Ren and Wynne, he was feeling looser in his chest, and lighter on his feet. If the two noticed, they didn't say a word.

 

 

“I am exhausted,” Ren groaned, tossing her daggers unceremoniously into her tent, “I'm going to go wash the dirt and bandit blood off of me.” She wasn't exactly speaking to anyone in particular, but Wynne decided it was a good idea, and followed her. Leliana, always one for the more creature comforts, wasn't too far behind. Despite the displeasure of the company offered, Morrigan followed, lamenting something about not wanting to bathe alone. Alistair was pretty sure there was opportunity for a jab at the witch, but he had far more important things on his mind.

Entering his tent, his brows furrowed in thought. He had told Leliana to hide his prize, but he didn't say where she should do it. Glancing around the small area, he spied an unusual-shaped lump, and after removing the pile of dirty clothing on top of it, smiled. He felt his stomach somersault in nervousness, but he swallowed it down as he dug around for another item he kept nearby. Once found, he nonchalantly stepped out of his tent and made his way leisurely toward Ren's. Somehow managing to avoid everyone that was left at the small camp, he ducked inside the tent and couldn't help but chuckle at the sight: the elf was just as disorganized as he himself was, if not more so. Dirty clothing was shoved to the corner, a small whetstone was sitting next to her discarded blades, joined by a pile of cleaning rags and a jar of oil, and her bedding was unceremoniously strewn about the middle of the small area.

Alistair shook his head slightly, attempting to fold up the blankets and fluff the sad excuse of a pillow. Once done, he placed his gifts together in the middle, then slipped back out. Hearing feminine voices off toward the outskirts of the camp, he quickly removed himself from the vicinity of Ren's tent; he had cut that pretty close.

Once the women had returned, the men each took their turns cleansing themselves before dinner. Friendly chatter was shared during the meal, and Leliana favored them all with a few tunes on her lute before it was time to retire. Sten and Shale were sharing watch that night, so while both made their way to the edge of camp, everyone else ducked into their own confines, ready for a good night's sleep.

Ren yawned loudly as she closed the flap of her tent behind her. Once inside, she paused; something was off. Her eyes were immediately drawn down toward her bedding, which had been straightened and organized. If that wasn't odd enough, the objects sitting on top of it were. She couldn't help but feel the corners of her lips tug up, as she fought to keep the mist from her eyes. There sat a stuffed bear, not unlike the one she had mentioned in her ramblings to Alistair during their conversation several days prior. She clasped a hand over her mouth to corral the choked gasp that she felt welling up as she knelt down to touch the little toy. Bringing it up to her eye level, she was surprised to see something fall from it's paws.

Tilting her head in confusion, she picked it up; it was a single rose, petals still velvety and crimson, but the edges were worn, as if it had been in someone's pack for awhile. Her eyes softened as she ran her fingers over both items in turn, overwhelmed by what she was feeling.

A soft clearing of a throat caused her to whip her head around. Alistair was standing awkwardly at the entrance of her tent, a small, sheepish grin on his face, “I uh, I saw that in the market this afternoon. I know it's not the one you lost, but I thought... you know, it might help.”

“I--” she had no idea how to respond. Instead, she launched herself forward, throwing her hands around him and burying her face in his lower chest, “thank you... thank you,” her voice was muffled and quiet in his shirt, but he could hear the words clearly. Swallowing hard, he placed his own large arms around her shoulders. When she looked up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears, he panicked, “Oh Maker, d-don't cry! I didn't mean to upset you!”

A watery laugh escaped her, and she punched his arm, “I'm not crying because I'm sad, you idiot! I... this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. I'm just a bit... overwhelmed I think, heh.”

“Oh, well... I guess that's a bit better then,” he smiled, his eyes going toward the rose in her hand. Gently, he untangled her fingers from around it's stem and held it up between them, “here, do you know what this is?”

Ah, now there was the Ren he knew well resurfacing. A brow raised as she giggled, “Is that a trick question?”

“Yes of course! I'm trying to trick you... is it working?” He couldn't help the grin spreading across his face,” no? Damn, I almost had you!”

“Oh yes, you're quite the wily one,” the elf rolled her eyes, the infections grin he was wearing passing to her own lips.

“Nefarious, some might say,” he growled, eyebrows waggling. She was going to injure him soon, he just knew it. Sure enough, a strong finger poked him hard in the chest, causing him to cough slightly.

“Very funny, where did you even get such a thing? I don't remember passing any rose bushes recently.”

“Well, it wasn't exactly recent. I actually picked it back in Lothering,” he let the timespan settle in her mind before he continued babbling, “I mean, I knew the darkspawn would be on the town in a matter of days, and they would destroy everything, including this,” he gestured with the flower, “I guess I didn't want to see that happen. I remember wondering how something so beautiful could still survive in a place with such despair and ugliness. I suppose I probably should have left it alone... but obviously I couldn't,” he shrugged lamely, “so I've had it ever since.”

“That's-- that's actually quite sweet,” her voice was soft, borderline disbelieving. She craned her head upward, meeting his eyes, “so what exactly did you plan to do with it?”

He smiled slightly, “at the time I really didn't know, but now... well, I thought that I might--” he swallowed sharply, feeling the tips of his ears go hot, “I thought I might give it to you.”

“M-me? Why?” Her brown eyes had gone wide, a flush spreading across her pudgy little nose. It was all he could do to not tug her forward and kiss her senseless right then and there.

“Well,” Alistair continued, his voice low, “in a lot of ways... I think the same thing when I look at you.”

“You think of me as a gentle flower?”

Grateful for the joke, he laughed, “a gentle flower? Well I don't know if I'd put it quite like that...” He sighed, feeling the ever-present self depreciation creeping into his voice, “I guess it's a bit silly isn't it?”

Ren glanced down at the flower in question, lips quirked, “Maybe not... it's rather cute.”

“Cute? Cute? Oh why don't you just stab me in the face next time, ow!” Alistair threw a hand over his eyes dramatically, “oh my poor masculine pride!”

That got the elf giggling like a madwoman, “Andraste's ass, you are so weird sometimes! Are all humans this silly, or just you?”

“Just me I'm afraid,” he grinned back, “aren't you the lucky one.” He glanced back down at the rose in his hand, gently tucking it back into her fingers, “I'm glad you like it. Now... if we could move right on past this awkward, embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits I'd appreciate it.”

Ren coughed, attempting to mask a laugh. It didn't work, “oh and you were doing so well too, such a shame.”

“No? Ah well, your loss I suppose,” he puffed up his chest, crossing his arms, “I don't know how you resist me like you do.” She poked him hard in his stomach and he deflated with a breathy 'oof!'.

“Maker's balls,” she laughed, shaking her head, “sometimes I just don't know what to do with you. Now shoo,” she gestured toward the exit of the tent, “I'm about to get naked and I don't want your blushing to burn my tent to the ground.”

“Ah--” Alistair tried to respond, but the very idea had embedded itself into his brain. He could feel his cheeks burning as he began to turn,, “you know, I think I may agree with you on that,” he stopped abruptly, almost forgetting what else he had wanted to say to her. Turning back to face her again, he pressed on, “but before I do that, I want to say something,” he swallowed sharply, grasping her by the shoulders, “I wanted to tell you that... well, I thought about what you said. You know, when we left my sister's house.”

“Oh,” Ren started searching her memory, not really remembering what she had said to him after that conversation. At first all she could remember was threatening the bitch within an inch of her life, but then the words she spat at Alistair came flooding back, “oh... oh Alistair, I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't think before I speak and--”

“No, let me finish,” his voice was stern enough to stun her silent for the time being, so he pressed on, “I wanted to say that you're right. I've been letting everyone else make the decisions in my life. I'm sick of it, and I intend to put an end to it. From now on, I'm going to start looking out for myself, and doing what I want, not what I think everyone else wants me to do.”

The elf was stunned, and suddenly very proud of the man in front of her. She smiled, placing her hands on top of his forearms, “its about time I say. I'm proud of you, Alistair.”

That made his heart swell more than he thought possible, “well I wouldn't have been able to do it without your help... which is why--” here he tweaked her chin gently, smiling, “I'm going to be looking out for you as well, because if I don't, you'll wind up doing something silly like getting swallowed whole by the Archdemon. Terribly unbecoming, that.”

Ren hated it that she could feel herself blush under his fingers, and laughed awkwardly, “yeah well, getting eaten alive isn't exactly on my agenda, so we're in agreement there,” pulling him forward into an embrace, she smiled, “thank you Alistair.”

“Whatever could you be thanking me for? The bear? Maker's breath if I knew you'd respond so fondly, I'd have bought the whole cart!” That, as usual, earned him a jab to the ribs, and he laughed, “well you're welcome. We're in this together after all.”

She smiled fondly, “that we are... now go get some sleep ya' big oaf, or you'll be useless in the morning!”

“Alright alright, I'm going,” he paused at the entrance, turning to face her. Swallowing down the giant swarm of drunk bees fluttering in his stomach, he leaned down, brushing his lips gently over her forehead. “G'night, Freckles.” Before she could respond, he turned and made his way toward his own tent, an unseen smile on his lips.

“G'night...” she released the breath that she hadn't known she was holding, then closed the flap of her tent firmly. As she shed her leggings, leaving her in nothing but a comfortable shift for sleeping, she couldn't wipe the grin off of her face. Tossing out her bedroll, she flopped down and tugged the cover over herself. Before settling in, she gently placed the rose up next to her daggers; she'd have to find a good place to keep it once the morning came.

Finally ready to let the Fade take her, she tugged the newly-gifted bear to her chest, burrowing herself down into the covers. The nightmares eluded her that night. Not because of the feeling of the bear, which had always made her feel safe as a child, but because it smelled like him.