Dragon Age: Coexist Prologue

Title: Coexist

Author: DarknessInfernal

Game: Dragon Age: Origins

Characters/Pairings: Tabris/Alistair

Rating: M

Disclaimer: The land of Thedas belongs to BioWare.

Summary: In the midst of the Blight, an elven maleficar and her murdering brother flee the Alienage to avoid punishment. This is the tale of their plight, the romance and heartbreak that was intertwined with the burden of the Grey Warden, and personal struggle.





Prologue Part I: Inferno


19 Dragon

Sunrise had summoned them into the Market; many of them - hundreds, it seemed - gathered around the elven families and began to barter with the merchants, despite the fact that we'd arrived long before the coming morn. And the merchants never even bothered to shrug, voice their prejudice amongst us; they simply ignored and sold their merchandise to their shemlen brethren, denying us breakfast. And as they passed us, I saw the taunting in their smirks, the hatred that festered in their eyes; I gripped my mother's hand, silently requesting protection.

"It'll be all right, da'len. Maybe they still have a few more things left," she muttered, caressing the back of my hand in reassurance. "Let's go and see."

So we walked ahead, stopping at the merchant's stand; there were a few handfuls of a strange meat that gave a lovely smell - venison, I'd deemed it - sitting in piles amongst the wooden panel. I licked my lips, yanking my mother's hand.
"Mamae! I know you said venison's too expensive, but…can we please have that? Just this once?" I asked, pointing at the meat.

Her eyes followed my little finger, stopping at the meat I'd pointed to. Her brow had furrowed before she found it, as she had prepared herself to deny me such delicious food - not because she wanted to, but because she couldn't - but when she actually saw the meat I desired, her amber eyes, which had darkened from knowing she would have to disappoint her child, widened, and she gasped, mouth agape, brow raised. Then her eyes began to droop, unshed tears giving them a brilliant shine. Slowly the tears dissolved, failing to stream down her face; the eyes became alive again, and the rare ominous spark that flashed within them whenever she was enraged showed itself.

I let go of her hand, slowly backing away; her lips were curled into a scowl, and her fists were clenched so severely the russet skin of her palm had turned an angry crimson. The eerily brilliant amber irises turned from the venison, casting their glare upon the shem that owned the stand. And my heartbeat eased to its normal pace, relieved that my mother's rage was not directed at me.

Her heel turned sharply in the direction of the merchant, and she marched towards him, her brisk stride still graceful as a rogue's could be despite the hate that fueled it; silken ebony hair, long and loose, swayed as she treaded, and she furiously swiped her side-bangs out of her view as she approached the shemlen.

"You!" She hissed, her tone as vicious as a snake in pursuit. "Do you know what kind of meat that is?"

The man, taken aback by the elven woman's threatening posture and expression, raised an eyebrow mockingly, decayed teeth displayed as he scowled. "What's it to you, knife-ears?"

She clenched her fist harder, the red in her palms growing ever more vivid. "That's halla meat, you shem bastard! They are not to be eaten, especially not by any who aren't Dalish." She pointed a long, callused finger at the remains of the creature she had been taught to think of as sacred.

The merchant tilted his head, face scrunching in anger; his eyes analyzed the numerous gold piercings in her ears, eyebrow and nose, her mocha-colored skin, and the markings upon her face that revealed her origin. "Ahh, a Rivaini, ehh? And a Dalish to boot. What makes you think we'll follow your savage customs?"

My mother stood there, a scowl painted on her face, silent, rage festering. I turned to see that all of the other elves were staring at her, their eyes widened with fear.

The man walked from behind his counter, facing my mother. "Listen here, elf. I know the humans in Rivain treat your kind as if you're equals, but here, and every other sane part of Thedas, you need to learn your place. I'll not warn you again." He stepped over to her, placing dirty hands on her hips, one venturing towards her buttocks. "Do we have an understanding?"

I did not think it possible, but my mother's eyes had grown even more angrier, the amber getting to an inhumane hue. Her fist clenched even harder, her veins protruding through her skin. She raised it, slamming it into the face of the man, and I heard a satisfying crunch, saw the blood flow out of his nostrils even more vividly through my elven eyes, and felt the scream vibrate through my sensitive and overly acute ears.

The man fell with a thud, grasping at his nose. My mother stood over him, cracking her knuckles, glaring at him.
"Yeah, I think we do," She grabbed my hand, gently tugging me. "C'mon, Zetheria."

But before we could leave the man yelled, "Knife-eared bitch! You'll pay for this! You all will!" And the crowd of elves stiffened, eyes growing even wider. The crowd shifted, but the people had stood still, not wanting to make way for the person who was attempting to break through. It finally parted, and a man exited the sea of people, pale skin gleaming in the rising sun, dark curls framing his face, silver eyes intense with fear: my father. And in his arms was a child of five summers, my younger brother Jaiden, who was the spitting image of our mother. My father looked into my eyes, the silver irises I'd inherited from him, and the face that mirrored his own. Then, he screamed, "Adaia!"

And he ran over to us, setting my brother on the ground beside me, where I took his hand into mine. Father placed a hand on my shoulder, grabbing Mother's arm with the other. "Please, sir," He pleaded, eyes filled with desperation. "Allow me to say that my family meant no harm to you. We won't bother you again."

The man stood up, rigid eyes boring into my father's soft ones. "Boy, look at what your whore did! You think I'm
lettin' you get off easy?"

The grip Father had on my shoulder intensified. "My wife's not well; she's very ill in her head. Wasn't supposed to be out of the house, actually. She must have wandered off when I wasn't looking. We beg your forgiveness."

Mother scoffed, pulling her arm out of Father's hold. "Oh, fuck me. Did you see where that asshole touched me? I'm not sorry for what I did! I should have done more!"

Father grabbed her again, snapping his head toward the merchant. "Do you see? She does not know what she says. She used to be an honorable, respectable woman, who knew her place. This mental illness has turned her for the worse,"
Mother's eyes bore into the back of his head; Father felt it, wincing slightly, but quickly shrugged it off. "Please sir, have pity on us. I promise to keep her under control," He let go of me, fishing in his pocket frantically. Plenty of coin came out into his hand - around forty or fifty silver with a few bits in the mix - and he placed it onto the merchant's counter. "Coin for a healer, sir?"

The man slit his eyes, going from Father to Mother. "All right, boy. This time." He scooped up the coins and placed them in his purse. Then he glanced at the frightened crowd, and grinned evilly. "But all this excitement has tired me out. I'll think I'll retire for the day. Get a healer and rest." He went to his station and packed away all of his food, then yelled as he walked away, "Be sure to thank your Dalish friend for that, would you, good elves?"

And at that, the crowd turned their gaze to my mother, frightened eyes changing to furious. A woman stepped out of the group, one that I noticed at only a second's glance; her name was Deneah, and she was quite beautiful, with olive skin, short blonde locks and chestnut brown eyes, though her disdain for my family gave her an ugliness that was unfathomable. She pushed out her thin lips, placing a hand on her hip. "Well, congratulations, Adaia. Once again you've caused the entire Alienage to miss breakfast because of your stupid Dalish pride; that merchant was the only one we could afford! Are you happy?"

Mother sneered at Deneah. "It's not stupid, Deneah. I may live in an Alienage, but I refuse to be a flat-ear. You're standing here blaming me when you should be upset with that shem for what he did!"

"What he did? You were the one causing trouble over meat!"

"Sacred meat! The halla are elf-friends. They aren't to be worn, eaten, or taken advantage of. You expect me not to say anything? You've known me for eight years, Deneah. All of you have. If you still aren't used to me, that's your problem. I'm not going anywhere. I am sorry that you all have to miss breakfast, though. But that was never my intention. I was provoked. You all saw it."

The hand that was holding Mother's arm slid its way down to her own hand, and she caressed it with her thumb. Father spoke. "I'm sorry too. I know how Adaia is, and I should have been the one to get breakfast. I hate that you all have to be hungry until lunch time. As a matter of fact, if any of you need it, I'll pay for -"

"Oh shut it, Cyrion!" Yelled an unknown man from the crowd. "You always think that you can throw coin in people's faces, and it'll make problems go away! Just because you're Bann Roldolf's pet - a glorified delivery boy - and you make more money than most of us doesn't mean you can act like you own the place."

Father's eyes softened even more, filled with hurt. "That…that's not how I feel, and you know it. I just want to take care of my family, that's all. It's not my fault I ended up lucky and got a good job."

Deneah sneered. "Oh, bah! And what a family it is! You and your uppity wife think you're better than us. Always have, always will." Her gaze turned from Father to Mother, and as they did, her chestnut eyes went from mere annoyance to hatred and jealousy. "If you love being Dalish so much, why don't you take those children of yours to the woods and live there from now on? We don't want you here!"

Shouts of agreement - jeers and yells - were heard, and I pulled Jaiden closer to me, who was starting to weep. Father saw me wince, and began to stroke my hair. "Stop it!" he snapped, and the Alienage became silent, shock upon their faces; Father was a soft-spoken, thoughtful, modest man who preferred to avoid confrontation, and had never scowled or shouted in anger in my seven years of living. Never had he struck or even scolded me, and when I saw the look of rage upon his face, I backed away, and so did the crowd.

He let go of Mother and I, walking towards the elves. "That's enough. You've upset my children!" He gestured towards us. "This has got to stop. We're sorry we caused trouble, but you have no right to talk to us this way. And you don't have to be our friends. That's fine. You all know my sister Tanya, her husband, and their family. They're all we need." He turned to us. "Come along, you all," He said, voice lowered and calmed considerably from when he was speaking to our neighbors, "Let's find somewhere else to eat."

"Yeah, cause of course you got the money for it," Muttered another man, and I know Father heard it. But the fire within him - which was rarely lit anyway - had cooled, and would most likely not rise again until another major argument.

As our parents, who had assumed that we were following, walked away, I turned to see the crowd glaring at me. I backed away from them, looking down. Jaiden let go of my hand, and ran off to meet our parents, and I was alone.

Closing my eyes slowly, then opening them again, I began to walk as I thought my mother did, remembering the grace and pride in her stride. I heard scoffs from the adults, but the children were silent. I looked at them, seeing a boy who stood out amongst the crowd; he was a child of perhaps ten summers, and he was staring at me. His skin was beautiful, sun-kissed, and his hair was the same as Mother and Jaiden's: straight, ebony, and silky; it was cast in all directions on his head, and he had bangs that covered his forehead and one of his eyes. The eye I saw, however, was among the most beautiful I'd ever seen; dark green, mirroring that of the forest whilst it rained. His full lips lifted into a smile, revealing perfectly aligned but yellow teeth, and I felt my cheeks grow warm when I realized the imperfect grin was directed at me.

My gaze was interrupted by the sight of a grey glob that flew towards me and landed at my feet; I looked down to see a chunk of saliva on the ground. Looking up, I frowned at the girl who was standing beside Deneah, her mother; it was Liarah, a girl who was two years my senior. "Freak!" She sneered, then brought herself closer to the boy, placing an arm around his waist.

I tilted my head, feeling heat simmer in my small body, and a scowl found its way to my face. I felt my fist clench just as mother's did only a few moments ago, and envisioned myself punching the girl for calling me that word. I'd heard it enough without defending myself, and the fact that it was spat out of jealously caused my blood to boil. Before I could confront her, however, I heard the words,

"Zetheria! C'mon, love! We're leaving." yelled Father, and I felt the heat cool down. That was the first time Father had soothed my anger, and it certainly would not be the last; his voice was beautiful, and the calm and gentleness in the tone reminded me that sometimes it was indeed best to avoid confrontation. I unclenched my fist, gave one last glance at the boy, and ran to my family. When I got to them, I saw that Jaiden was in Mother's arms, and she was speaking quietly to Father, voice and expression solemn.

"What exactly happened, my love? Something about halla?"

"He was selling halla meat, Cyrion. I couldn't help myself. It made me so mad…I mean, what if the halla they'd killed was related to the one I took care of before I left? All this stuff kept running through my head. It was like humans were trying to take yet another thing from my people."

Father sighed. "I know, Adaia. I know. I'm sorry," He turned and saw me walking behind them; he smiled lovingly.

"There you are, pretty girl. Why did you stay back there so long? Did they say anything to you?"

I looked into the eyes of my father, and saw the worry and sorrow in them; I couldn't stop the truth from flowing from my lips. "Liarah called me a freak. Just like the other kids call me at home." I admitted, voice weak.

I saw the sympathy and sorrow that simmered in Father's eyes, and the fury that rampaged within my mother's. He then bent down to my level, eyes darkened; he brought a hand to my cheek, stroking my hair, fingers weaving through my colorless locks, long and wavy. "Oh, baby. You're not a freak. Don't ever think that you are, okay?"

Mother scoffed. "Pfft. Liarah. A little bitch, just like her mother."

Father turned toward his wife, voice condescending. "Adaia! She's just a child, you shouldn't talk of her in such a way."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, so I should wait a few more years before calling her out of her name? Please."

Father sighed in defeat, shaking his head, though I saw a small smirk play upon his lips. "You never mind Liarah, love." He grabbed my hands, caressing them with his thumbs. I looked down at our linked fingers, noticing the intense contrast between his paleness and my caramel skin.

Mother knelt beside him now, standing Jaiden on his feet and bringing her lips to Father's temple; a small hint of pink came to his cheeks, and she grinned.

Father let go of one of my hands, and she quickly grabbed it. I immediately saw the differences in the feel of their hands: Mother, with her scarred, large hands -- roughened through years of handling swords, daggers, and bows -- adorned with spidery, calloused fingers and jagged nails; and Father, with his smooth -- save for the veins that protruded out of his skin -- small and delicate hands, with nimble, soft fingers and stubby nails: the hands of a servant. The hands of an artist. "That's right, da'len. I shouldn't have called her a bitch; she's just a child, it's not her fault she's being raised by one. There's nothing wrong with you," She paused to kiss Jaiden's cheek and tickle his sides; she smiled when she heard his giggle. "And there's nothing wrong with you, either!"

I chuckled at my little brother, who's face was still wet with fallen tears, yet he was laughing. "Stop! Stop, Mamae!" He managed to choke out, his little hands grasping at her own. Mother snickered, releasing Jaiden from her grip.

The wind blew suddenly, and my hair flowed freely in it, brushing across Mother's face; I imprisoned it within my hands, grimacing in contempt for the locks I'd deemed a nuisance. "But why is my hair white…?"

Mother's eyes grew dark, serious, yet she smiled softly at me, placing her hands on my shoulders. "There's a reason for everything, da'len. Don't search for them all at one time," She turned her head, spotting the merchant who was willing to sell food to elves, but at an unreasonable price. "Ahh, there's our favorite asshole. We're going to go over there and buy food. Stay close. Watch your brother." And they stood from us and left, merging themselves into the crowd.

Jaiden and I had backed ourselves into the wall, away from the prejudice shemlen and the people - elven, human, and dwarven - who wouldn't stop staring at me. I managed to bring Jaiden and myself into the shadows, where we were unseen, but our parents were still in view.

Jaiden suddenly jerked his arm from my grasp, and walked a few feet away from me, staring luridly at something in the distance. I frowned, yanking him back to me, scolding him. "Don't ever do that again, I could have lost you! What were you looking at, anyway?"

Jaiden looked back at me, beaming despite my lecture. "Look, Zee-Zee!" And he pointed toward where he was leering with a chubby finger; I followed it, seeing a sapphire that seemed to sparkle behind the window it was encased in, stealing the sunlight's shine. I found myself staring too, and I could see myself holding the gem in my hand, putting it
on a necklace perhaps, showcasing it to all the children in the Alienage. Who would be the freak then, Liarah, if I had something you'd never be able to afford in a million years?

I let go of Jaiden, walking slowly out of shadow. I have to have it.

It was a few more seconds before I heard the pitter-patter of feet padding frantically across the cobblestones behind me. "Sister!" pouted Jaiden, "Where are you going? Mamae said to stay close."

I looked over at where Father and Mother were standing; they were still in line, and it would be at least ten minutes before they were in the front. "They're not looking. C'mon Jay, I gotta get a good look at that gem!"

He protested more, but I struck him once on the arm, and instead of crying he remained silent, sulking. I pulled the boy through the crowd. It seemed to be calling my name, the sapphire. I'd planned to have it until my father's twenty-third birthday, which was a few days away, then give it to him as a present.

I made it to the shop where the jewel was held, placing my small hands on the window where it shined on its pedestal, gawking at it. As a child I was always fascinated with beautiful items, for no such things were found in the Alienage. Until then, stealing was something I had never contemplated, but had always heard of from Mother, who would always boast and brag about her achievements. I could hear her instructing me in my mind, and suddenly my feet were upon tile, my eyes seeing the candlelit room of the store.

You have to be as silent as a ghost. Make yourself invisible. That part shouldn't be hard; shems ignore us unless they need something.

My eyes scanned the room; they saw nothing but dust, lone trinkets and darkness. Creeping over to the window, I placed my hands upon the pedestal. I glanced behind me again, then cursed myself.

Don't look around either. That'll make you look suspicious. Make sure no one's looking before you go for it. When you're near it, just grab it and go. But don't go too fast. Be casual. Take it as if you've purchased it. It's rightfully yours. Implant that in your head enough and it'll become an automatic thing.

My hands slid up the pedestal, feeling the smooth iron that held the beauty. It's mine. I bought it. I own it.
The smooth surface of the stone grazed through my fingers, and I marveled at the sheer brilliance of it. Placing it in my trouser pocket, I glanced up at the window, seeing Jaiden glaring at me through the glass, pouting. I scowled at him, shushing him by putting a finger to my lips. His angry eyes continued to stare, screaming at me, You're not supposed to steal. Stealing is wrong.

Another scowl halted him from his sulking, but his eyes widened, and I saw the fear in them. I raised a brow in confusion, silently asking what was wrong. He backed away slowly, staring at something behind me. Before I could turn around, a force clutched itself onto me, spinning me around and slamming me into a wall. I grunted, wincing, the impact causing my breath to leave me. My head moved upwards to see a large man with wild, furious eyes, and a scowl that could frighten away the most powerful of beasts. He grabbed my throat, lifting me by it.

"Steal from me, eh? You little knife-eared bitch!" And a slap rang throughout the building, vibrating through my cheek to my chest; blood trickled slowly out of my nose, and the walls began to dance. He shook me, and I yelped, my small fingers grasping at his massive arms. Yanking the sapphire out of my pocket, he placed it back on its pedestal, shoving me to the ground; I hit the floor with a thud, gripping at the wooden planks as he dragged me.

"Let's just see what the guard'll say about this. Little freak."

At the sound of the word, the insult, I could feel the familiar heat radiating throughout my body. A scowl painted itself upon my face, and I hissed the words, "I am not a freak!"

The scorching sensation pulsated from the inner depths of my mind to throughout my veins; I felt some travel to my heart and fester in the pit of my stomach. The heat that streamed in my veins flowed rapidly from my arms to my fingertips, and my breath hitched as I saw a flash of orange and gold flicker from me to the man, spiraling up his arm and down his entire body. A deep gasp escaped my lips, and my brow furrowed; my heart pounded frantically within my chest as if begging to be released, my eyes denying the sight before them. What's happening?

The man snapped his head toward his arm, eyes widened, mouth agape; I expected to hear a bloodcurdling scream, but as I closed my eyes cringing, white noise filled my ears: static, whispers and….singing. The sounds muted the scene, but caused a chill to run down my spine; I bit my lip, watching as the flames, my rage, spiraled around the morsel I'd come to hate, consuming him in its fury.

The sounds faded, and the screech that escalated from the man's lips pricked at my sensitive ears. I winced, teeth sinking further into my lip. As the shriek diminished, the smell of burning flesh immediately replaced it, filling my nostrils; I gagged. A gurgle formed in his throat, and he began to stumble on his feet; he dragged me with him, causing small rips and tears to split in my trousers. I attempted to free my hand from his grasp, but his grip was solid.

The blaze suddenly faded into the air; wisps of grey smoke rose from the scorched form. The gurgling became more profound now as he stiffened. Then slowly, he began to tilt, and the charred tower that was his body crashed onto the floor, hitting the wooden planks with a wet thud, our fingers still linked.

I yanked my hand out of the corpse's frantically, pulling myself to my feet. The room had become the same as it had been before I'd intruded; lazy wisps of dust floated in the thin, stiff air, and the trinkets still lay undisturbed, despite our struggle. Nothing could be heard but the sound of my frantic breathing and rapid heartbeat. How did I do that? How did I make fire?

My feet were attempting to lift themselves from the floor, but couldn't find the will; inside a voice was telling me to run, run, but I could do nothing but stand dormant amongst the smoke and embers.

Fighting the sob that longed to escape my throat, I looked upon the wreckage. The man's flesh had been taken from him; only muscle was seen, blood, and the occasional glimpse of bone. I stepped away from him, back pressing against the pedestal. Tears in my eyes, I cursed the sapphire, and my desire to be what was called normal. I don't want it anymore.

A shout was heard from beyond the window; I snapped my head towards the sound, heart skipping a beat when I saw the mass of humans surrounding the building. My eyes desperately searched the sea of tall and fair-skinned shemlen, seeing no small and caramel-skinned elven boy amongst them; I felt my stomach lurch within me. There was shock on their faces - anger, hate - but the most evident one was one I'd never seen addressed to an elf: fear.

They were shouting the usual jeers and insults: knife-ears, animal, savage, trouble-maker, and the last - the only one that made me cringe - murderer. But one was alien to my ears, and caused me to frown in confusion.

Apostate.