Daraeldin

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Gwern lit a cigarette and put it up to her lips. Why did he keep asking her that? She inhaled, drawing the smoke in, and then let it out slowly, with a slight tinge of exasperation. "I'm not an orphaned child that needs protection, Leto. I'm a grown-up woman." He tore his emerald-green eyes away from her. Maker, she was beautiful. "You don't strike me as the type who would do this." She smirked, the cigarette now hanging out of the corner of her mouth. "Neither do you." "I could get out of the car at the next traffic light. Just say the word." "Look, if you don't want-" He could still smell her embr

Her cheeks were wet. Darkspawn blood, the rain, her own blood, that of her friends, her sweat. But it was the tears that caught her by surprise. Why was she crying? Was it sadness? No, perhaps… Loneliness. As she saw the Archdemon panting, his tainted eyes glowing with ancestral formidability, she couldn’t help feeling pity for the beast he had become. Had he loved his children the way her family had loved her? Had he mourned their death the way she had mourned the death of her loved ones? The moment before raising the sword, the faces of the many people that had given everything to ensure that she got to be there raced before he