when your dreams have ended

It was a mistake. All of it. A raging brush fire of a mistake. Not only did he fully regret his decision to give her the potion, but in bringing them here. Of all the places where he might have sheltered Alyvia and her children (his son included), it was the place he called home. Perhaps part of him knew that his concern would never fully abate and that it would be easier for him to know where they are and confirm they were safe with his own eyes. But there was always another way and the fact that they were in residence confirmed the obvious. He was a selfish coward and with little in the way of obstacles keeping him from continuing to make poor decisions. 

He'd done his best to make himself scarce. Offering to go on more scouting runs, insisting on extra exercises for Lorcan and Boreas all so he wasn't tempted to scratch the itch that never went away. Ultimately however and likely by some cruel design handed down by the Maker, the opportunities ran thin. Scouting finished, mounts exercised and tended, and so on until every excuse he found was in some way thwarted. It seemed in keeping with the turn of his luck. Mucking the stalls remained the only task fit for a coward of his ilk. Again, poetically fitting. 

But even that turned poorly in his favor. No sooner had he picked up a shovel and eased into one of the stalls then movement caught his eye across the paddock. There she was, like the Divine incarnate, her face contorted in fear as one of the coursers brayed eagerly waiting to be exercised for the day. Masked in a similar fear at her feat stood a small child. He was never good with ages, but she couldn't be older than three or four and though he couldn't see her face (and hadn't a good look at her until now) there seemed something eerily familiar about those ice white curls. 

Fuck He muttered to himself bracing against the stall post to catch his breath as he was hit was a sudden wave of nostalgic longing. Twenty years ago when they were both green, and he was no more than her stable hand, he'd taught not to be afraid of the horses, had spent hours soothing fears, easing her up to saddling and riding on her own. 

And here he was now, teetering on the edge of temptation, apt to ruin everything for his own selfish gain. 

Fuck indeed. 

Before he could really stop himself, he was pushing up his sleeves and walking across the stable yard, approaching Alyvia Arlange and her small child. Wordless and without greeting, he grabbed the reins of the mare and started to pat her snout. If you're going to learn, there's none better than Lizbet. She's very patient when she's not anxious to for some exercise. You have nothing to fear from her. He refrained from looking directly at Alyvia and instead focused his attention on soothing the horse with some dalish sentiments. It was easier that way. Lest that's what he kept telling himself.

Despite her fear of horses something about the smell of the stable calmed her somewhat. She struggled when she tried to place the feeling and where it came from. She could barely remember the stable at her parents' home and when she tried to think too hard about it it gave her a maddening headache so she tried to avoid thinking about it too much. Alyvia knew this fondness for the setting made no sense. Her first memory was that of being thrown by a horse. She largely blamed that fall for not only her fear of horses and the swaths of memories before Orlais being fuzzy and vague.

She remembered feeling lonely. She was a daughter and in a poor noble family she was just another mouth to feed and body to dress. Her three older brothers wanted nothing to do with her. Her father barely even remembered she existed. Her mother only spoke to her to criticize her appearance. She was too skinny, too bedraggled, too mouthy, too ugly, and in one particular fit of rage had told her out of all her children she wished Alyvia had died in infancy. Alyvia remembered spending most of her time outside of her family home somewhere else. She hadn’t stepped foot on her family’s lands in decades and had no intentions of doing so. Last she remembered it was in the hands of her second oldest brother after the eldest had died at Ostegar during the Fifth Blight.

Her parents had all but sold her to a man twice her age who happened to be a well-known Orliesian Baron. Arlange didn’t love her either. He was not the first to have her. She couldn’t remember her eldest son’s father, but she knew it wasn’t her late husband. That was somewhat of a reassuring fault even if she was sure her son’s father must not have cared for her either. She was probably just a notch on his belt. At least, that was the only thing that made sense. No one but her children had ever shown her love in her life. She worried often for Raphael His dedication to her had him by her side constantly, even now that they were away from Orlais and the threats there. She encouraged him often to build a life of his own in Ferelden.

She tried her hardest to make sure her children never knew the loneliness she had as a child. Arlange made it hard. Constantly pushing her to let their elven nanny handle child rearing as he wanted her by his side at all times, within his sights and grasp, his prized possession and favorite trophy. She fought him on this when necessary and manipulated him with the only thing she had to offer otherwise. It worked. She’d been able to be a mother to her three eldest children and as far as she was concerned it was worth every sacrifice she’d suffered otherwise.

She scooped up the child below her and gathered her in her arms. Carina never had to suffer any of that of course. She’d just missed her cycle when something snapped in her. She didn’t remember what had caused the snap, why he’d gone from leaving her be for months to slapping her around. She knew being pregnant had been part of the reason she’d buried her dagger in his ribs.

The white-blonde curls and bright blue eyes of the girl, who was currently shrunk into her side at the large horses’ approach, told her this child was not her late husband’s either but she could be damned if she remembered the event of her conception. Those few months of her husband’s disinterest were also a blur, something she believed had to have been caused by heavy drinking.

It didn’t matter now. Nothing that happened in Orlais mattered. Arlange was dead and she wasn’t a baroness anymore. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She had no skills that could provide for her children and even though Raphael, Marie, and even Marjorie were old enough to take care of themselves she felt responsible for them and hated this feeling of freeloading off of the Grey Wardens.

How they had ended up here was a bit of a mystery to her. She remembered the Darkspawn overtaking the city and trying to figure out how she was going to get her children to safety. She remembered Raphael dragging her to the rooftop where there was a Grey Warden on a Griffin like in the stories of old. They brought her family here to safety. She didn’t know why she’d warranted this rescue and after some deliberation on letting him take her children while she stayed behind with her people. It was Raphael and the Warden that convinced her to leave.

As if summoned by her thoughts of that day the Warden in question approached them to calm the nearby horse. She listened to his words, and watched him with the horse. He was handsome and a spark of yearning built in her abdomen. ”I don’t know much about horses at all, I’m afraid. She loves them though this is the closest I’ve brought her to them. Her brother usually indulges this,” She said, adjusting the toddler on her hip. Carina reached out towards the horse as it calmed, her crystal blue eyes alight with the excitement that she might get to touch one of the animals.

”Howse!” the toddler said, almost leaping out of Alyvia’s arms and towards Ragnar’s in an attempt to get closer. The woman gasped and tried her hardest to keep ahold of the toddler so she didn’t fall.

Seeing her was like driving a stake through his heart, driving a mortal wound through his chest. He couldn't breathe much less function with conviction. It was a wonder he was still standing. The way she could look at him and see nothing was punishment on its own, but the sadness orbed around her was even worse. 

What have I done?

He never under any delusion that the choice to let her drink the potion would end happily but this? He....he didn't want this. It felt filthy to him, wrong in so many ways. Even if it was his own selfish heart talking but he'd never been so sure of anything in his life. He had to fix this. He swallowed the lump in his throat, nerves alight with anxious anticipation. Looking at her now was akin to looking directly at the sun. The longer he tried to look, the weaker he became. Eventually he would be nothing but singed regret at her feet if he didn't stop now. Funny how self sabotage wreaked havoc on one's control. Funny how all of this could've been avoided if he'd seen a bigger picture when asking the Witch of the Wilds for her favor. 

Ragnar tried not to look at her but he could feel her presence in his peripheral. She was close enough that some of her heat leached toward him, a painfully distinct scent flaring into his nostrils as she shifted. His eyes fluttered closed and his hands moved via habit as he continued to soothe the riled mare. He hid the flush of his cheeks just out of sight on the other side of the horse's head, taking the brief moment it took to adjust the tension of the reins to compose himself. 

Hearing her say that she didn't know much about horses cut deep. Again, a fruit of his own misdeeds though it stung no less and perhaps even more so. They'd spent countless hours over countless days, weeks, months, years working up her courage to approach a mount without a lick of fear. Horses were far too intuitive to accept anything less. He was convinced part of the reason that Lizbet was riled was because of the unease hanging charged around them. He swallowed again. It's best to start them young on respect. He commented offhandedly as he busied around the familiar horse, now moving along her flank to smooth over her back with one of his hands. 

Her brother. Right. Raphael. His son. The very son who wouldn't so much look him in the eye as he would even acknowledge his presence (which was remarkable considering how prominent Ragnar was around the keep). Another mountain to scale at another time. 

It wasn't until he was back in front of the horse that he spied the toddler leaning out towards him from her mother's arm. And it was then he allowed himself a good look at the child. 

His heart leapt in his throat as he numbly allowed her into his arms, seeing that her weight was too unbalanced to safely nuzzle back to her mother. He froze solid when she formed against his side, hitched awkwardly onto one hip. And as she reached excitedly for the calmed horse, Ragnar could feel his face pale further. Aren't you wiggly...there....gentle... He swallowed again the choking lump forming quickly in his throat. H-how old is this wee lass? Because at this point all he needed was an age to confirm what he already knew to be true.

Unloved and lonely, those were the word that had etched themselves into her history and taken residence in the faint lines around her eyes. There was a deep sadness, brought about by a loss she couldn’t remember even having. Alyvia Arlange had felt love and happiness once. She had known what it was like to be held by someone who cherished her. Someone who cared for her, who wanted to see her smile and laugh, who gave her the skills to protect herself, who helped ease the childhood fears she’d had. Someone who didn’t make her feel like a burden, or a possession, or so, so, alone.

She no longer had those memories. She no longer knew what it was like to mean something to someone who she hadn’t given life to. She didn’t know the man who once cherished her and loved her and even broke her heart was standing right in front of her.

Was it worth it to be rid of the pain if it meant she never knew the good that came before it?

Alyvia was unaware of this dichotomy playing out in her own existence as she watched as, unbeknownst to both mother and daughter, the toddler all but leaped into the arms of her father.

There was a tug in her mind when she saw the man holding their child. Sharp and painful enough to make her wince. They looked so similar. I’m The white blonde hair alone was uncanny, but something wouldn’t let her make that connection. She rubbed her temples and took a breath as the pain started to ease. She watched in trepidation as the small chubby hands of the toddler reached out to stroke the mare and seeing that Carina was safe in the arms of the Warden she stepped back as far as she could from the horse.

At the question of the girl’s age Alyvia managed a small smile, ”She’s three. Due to turn four at Harvestmere. A bit of a late addition to my children.” she chuckled a bit, ”You met my boy and the other girls when you came for us.”

Alyvia paused for a moment and tilted her head, ”It just struck me, you saved my family and I’m not sure I ever got your name or gave you mine. Though… I would assume you know me, or at least of me, if you traveled so far to assure my safety and that of my children. Honestly, I find myself feeling quite indebted to you. If you hadn’t come for us I don’t know if we would have lasted long enough to be evacuated to the capital without you. And you’ve ensured us shelter and a place to stay. I mean this truly when I say I am at your service, Ser. If there is anyway I can be of help to you and your comrades here at the keep. I, regret to say, I don’t do much in the way of cooking really anything domestic but I can read and write. I fear I’m not much of a fighter, though my son and daughters have those skills but I would rather be the one to pay back this debt.”

She exhaled, looking at him some, smiling as Carina seems content in this man’s arms, ”You’re good with her. She doesn’t take to men other than family easily.”

It was nothing less that what he deserved. This torment was one of the many cons far outweighing the good it was supposed to do either of them in the long run. She looked so sad, like a part of her was missing (because it was); a part of her she never knew existed and she didn't know why she felt so empty. That was what he saw reflected on her face no matter how hard she might try to mask it under forced bravado and patchwork resolve. The punishment was that he would live the rest of his life knowing that he was the sole reason for her misery in either of these realities. 

No. It wasn't worth it. Not in the slightest and cursed himself for ever thinking it could. 

Three almost four. What was left of his nerve evaporated in that moment. A late edition. Yes. That was one way to explain that moment on the ramparts of Val Colline three almost four years ago. He could still hear her pleading moans as she shattered around him, spearing him towards his own paralyzing peak. If anything was worth it, it was that moment and the others they shared before he reverted to his own cowardly ways when it all became too real. It was easy to forget how ill suited he was for her, how far out of his league she was when he was buried inside of her deep enough to read her thoughts. Far, far too easy. 

His mouth turned cotton the longer she spoke, practically begging him to for ways to return the supposed favor. It was no favor, saving her and her family from encroaching blight, but pure, unmitigated obligation that would not be quieted until they were all safe within the walls of Soldier's Peak. No, she would never have to oblige him in that respect and if she insisted he'd only ask for her continued presence in his life. He was selfish enough to need that even when his instructions from Morrigan were emphatically the opposite. 

It begged the question if the witch saw this coming, knew they would find themselves in this very moment. But then maybe that was something anyone with basic comprehension could predict. Either way he was tired of fighting it. He didn't want to deprive himself of her any longer. Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

Greedy. Possessive. Voracious.

He was all of that and more for her. 

Ragnar shook his head, tamping down all he wanted to say in response and instead settling for something simpler. You don't owe me anything, Your Grace He'd called her that before both in deference and in wicked tease (usually when his face slotted neatly between her thighs). Clearing his throat for the umpteenth, he readjusted the squirmy toddler. His daughter He now new as sure as he knew that her mother was the love of his life. It's our job A lie wrapped in a blanket of truth. Yes. It was his job to protect against darkspawn, but it had never once been his motivation in saving them. No, that he owed to his voidless fear of truly losing her in a way he couldn't fix without a phial. 

He could feel the tips of his ears heat at her last comment. How he managed the stilted shrug of his shoulders he would never know. She seems agreeable enough- yes that's a horsie. He guided her sweaty hand to brush softly down the mare's snout while his chin rested inadvertently (though instinctively) atop her iced curls, a gentle waft of her scent gripping his heart in a vice. Her name is Lizzy, what's yours? His own blue eyes cast over to her mother in question, lips hidden partially in banded curls.

Alyvia leaned back against a fence rail and watched them. Carina’s fear had melted into joy in that moment and she was having a good time watching her daughter enjoy getting to pet the animal. Her own heart was thudding a bit in her chest but she took a breath to calm it, thinking back to a conversation she’d had with Marie a few days prior. Her eldest daughter had been confused as to why her mother had been so frightened of horse. ”You used to love them. You’d go on rides all the time. Did something happen?”

Trying to remember what might have caused this fear had ended in a blinding migraine that lasted three days and had her out of commission

Really, for the last few months Raphael had been running the Barony due to her being less than herself. She’d been considering handing the reigns over to him for quite a while. It was odd. Alyvia certainly didn’t feel any different but both of her older girls had commented on the change in her. Marjorie seemed concerned at first but adjusted quicker. Marie changed a little after a conversation with Raphael. Alyvia pretended like she didn’t see the looks of pity on her eldest daughter’s face out of the corner of her eye when she didn’t think her mother was looking.

She couldn’t help but smile at Carina all snuggled into the Warden’s side. She watched as he was gentle with her, kind. She hoped in this new life in Ferelden that was all that her daughter knew from men. Anything to break the cycle she’d known. Raphael had stepped in, taking care of his youngest sister, treating her good. She didn’t deserve her son. She really didn’t.

Please, call me Alyvia, I’m hardly a baroness anymore, she smiled, And I do think you definitely went above and beyond anything you needed to do. We were being evacuated in a few days. Though… the unspoken fear of not making it lingered.

This Warden, Ragnar, she thought she heard him called by others, was a very handsome man. There was no doubting that. Some unbidden thoughts (vague whispers of memories) had her thinking of him in less than savory ways, causing her to blush a bit, something she hoped she could blame on the wind.

Carina was so excited to be petting a horse she was barely paying attention to the two adults. Alyvia smiled and looked over at Ragnar, catching his eyes, Carina, her name is Carina, dear little one… she said tilting her head as she watched them, clocking just how perfect they looked together.

He couldn't think straight. Not necessarily a novel quality in her presence, but significant nevertheless. He'd long since given up fighting the urge to unravel in her presence, as it was a sensation so visceral he wished he could find some way to bottle it. As it was, the best he could get outside of her putting himself purposefully in her path, were his crystalline memories. Often those memories were the only thing he had to torture himself, though it was never enough. It would never be enough. 

His addiction to her was corrosive, destructive, and wholly selfish. His instinct was to self destruct, to ruin anything good beyond viability so that they might achieve what they both deserved. She a life without him and him without her. Two sides of the same doomed coin. One for her own good, the other because there was nothing good in this world meant for him. Of that he'd learned that a long time ago. A warden's life was fated towards a miserable termination. The lucky ones were consumed in dragon fire, and the rest succumbed to The Taint. His twisted and selfish logic thought to spare her from the torment of that sort of lose but instead he created an entirely new kind of torment. A torment that ultimately led them here; her mind erased of core memories so that she might find some peace without his fetid shadow to cloud such a freedom. 

And look what that got them. Look what it got him. Misery and chronic heartache.  Now with a brand new pain of  knowing that this little one deserved so much more than what he could give her. 

Ragnar smiled at her when she corrected him. Alyvia. He nodded with a smile as he parroted her name back to her with a stiff bow being the only formality he could offer with a wiggly toddler in his arms. His wiggly toddler. It was a stage he'd never had a chance to experience with Raphael. But then the only thing he'd ever got to experience with Raphael was how deeply a son's resentment might run for the father that left him behind. 

Their attentions both fell to the girl in his arms. Carina. He repeated it in his mind numerous times before he smiled back at the sting creeping up to the corners of his eyes. He cleared his throat and tugged at her tunic as it wrinkled between them. You're going to do great things Carina. He murmured as he rested his cheek on her head and continued to guide her hand along the velvet soft snoot of the calmed horse. The latter chuffed through her nostrils, causing Carina to giggle melodically, a sound that instantly broke his heart into even tinier pieces. It was a sound he might've reveled in for an untold amount of time had he not spotted a familiar face pacing towards them. The one he knew as Marie scowled at him as he caught her eye. He could see that even from where they stood across the paddock yard. 

His expression paled as she  neared, pinning him with that stubborn sneer. And when she finally stopped and nearly ripped Carina from his arms, he felt his stomach drop. He offered little opposition as Carina seemed all too excited to be swept into her sister's arms. 

Mother can I speak with you? She sidled up next to their mother, back now to Ragnar in case he had any delusions he was welcome in such a conversation. 

Quickly, he busied himself with attentions to the mare, walking along her far side so as to give them whatever privacy they needed.

It was like a mage somewhere had cast a gravity spell to pull her towards him. She smiled as the man held her daughter, something tugging at her heart that was strange and odd. It was almost like Carina belonged in this man’s arms. The way he rested his cheek on her bright platinum locks and ran her hand over the snout of the mare. Her heart was full and aching at the same time and she could feel one of her headaches hovering in the corner waiting to over take her.

That was until she heard the familiar gate of her eldest daughter trudging towards them, snapping her from her thoughts.

Alyvia didn’t understand why her older children seemed so cold to the man who saved their life. If Raphael’s gaze could kill the Grey Warden would probably be dead a dozen times over. Marie was also quite insistent that she not speak to the man. (Mama, he obviously wants something from us. He probably wants to use us and our nobility some way. Just because he’s a Warden does not mean he’s a good man.) Marjorie was the only one who didn’t treat the man with disdain or anger, but to be honest she wasn’t sure Marjorie was sure that the young woman had it in her to be mean to anyone. The closest thing she thought she’d ever seen her daughter do was serve lukewarm tea to someone she didn’t approve of. Carina was the only one of her children who seemed to have any positive amount of interaction with the man and that was cut short when Marie swept her into her arms.

She didn’t blame her daughter for distrusting the men in her mother’s life. Maker knew her father was a piece of work. Her late husband had been cruel and he made no attempt to hide it from their children. In all honestly it seemed like he’d always delighted in cutting her to the quick in front of them, possibly to see their own reactions. She’d often taken her daughters aside and promised them she would do what she could to make sure they didn’t suffer the same fate she did though she couldn’t remember the context of those discussions.

Could she blame them for being protective of her?

Still, Ragnar had done nothing to them but provide them safety and a home so as the man walked away and her daughter stared her down she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, Marie, dear, what can I help you with?

”You know I don’t trust him Mama. I think we should keep our distance. this whisper was soft and hushed, but there was an edge of concern and harshness to it. Alyvia lowered her own voice with the full knowledge that Ragnar could probably still hear part of their conversation.

I am quite aware of that Marie, though I’ve told you time and time again I am quite capable of taking care of myself.

”I-I know that, mama. I know, but—“

Marie, if you know something I do not about that warden tell me now, but if this is just fear for your mother… she sighed and reached to cup her daughter’s cheek, I had no choice but to marry your father and I don’t regret it because it gave me you and your siblings. But… I can assure you I have no intentions of letting a man treat me the way he did ever again. Besides, I am not even thinking of anything like that right now. I am just being kind to the man who saved my children. Do you blame me for that?

”Of course not, mama, but…”

No buts, my darling. How about this— if— and only if this man becomes a threat to any of us, myself included, I will personally let you and your brother handle him? I know you’ll be able to. You two can do anything. How does that sound? She didn’t think it would come to that but she felt like this might be a balm to her daughter.

She watched as her daughter looked over at the warden, catching his eye. The girl’s back stiffened with a courage and resolution that Alyvia wish she had (still had, she’d had it once before if only it wasn’t wrapped up in her hidden memories). She seemed to be looking right at Ragnar, ”I’ll hold you to that, Mama.”

Alyvia sighed and gently turned her daughter’s face towards hers and kissed her and then Carina on the forehead, Take your sister inside and wash her up for dinner. I want to talk to the Warden about maybe arranging riding lessons with someone for her— ah ah—no arguing. Go.

Marie sighed and hitched Carina on her hip and Alyvia smiled as the toddler waved a pudgy hand at the warden in goodbye. The former baroness shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck as she leaned against the paddock post, I’m so sorry about that. Marie and her older brother are… protective. My late husband was quite… a monster if I’m honest. They don’t want to see me hurt.