She was alone. Not that anyone would notice just by looking at her. At the Hanged Man as usual, surrounded by her companions that now consider her family as well as friend. Sister in arms, mother in advice, lover in their bed. Always surrounded by people, yet utterly and completely alone. But how?
Varric. She could always turn to him for a tale, usually one she had the starring role in, some adventure where she would triumph with her friends by her side. He was good for a drink, a nudge, a wink and a sigh. But he never asked what was inside her heart, what heavy burdens lay there..
Isabela. A constant source of seduction should one need. She'd offer herself on a smile without words. Sweat and sex would be the scent of the evening, but in the morning it was always business as usual. She would never pry into the depths of ones soul, for she never planned on sticking around long enough to care.
Merrill. As oblivious to life as she is to the demon she dances with. An odd innocence that could grow on you, given time, and perhaps make protecting her become a necessity. The oddest of the bunch, so focused on the past she's blinded by the present, and therefore in no way able to really offer a friendship to another.
Aveline. Stronger than anyone she knew with the exception of her father. Anyone with the ability to wake up the next day after putting a blade through the heart that beats for you deserves a worthy title. Captain of the Guard? More like Survivor of All. Darkspawn, death, through it all this woman will shed no tears. This is why she would never allow the tears of others to fall.
Sebastian. The Maker will save your soul, even if you've slept with half of your country. Can he listen to you as a friend? Or is every word a simple confession seeking forgiveness from more than just him. Don't ever let your heart wander into those crystal blue eyes of his. He will give you forever, but only if you give yourself to the Maker.
Anders. An open book of emotions from the furrow of his brow to the softness in his eyes. Yet his cracks will show, quite literally, when overwhelmed by the smallest of misdeeds. He's quick to offer love and then pull it away; a constant dysfunctional friend. He will hold you, comfort you, but never have a complete heart again to love you (though he believes he can and dares to speak those words often).
Fenris. Tormented beauty of brutality and scars. He does not hide his pain or the injustice done in his lifetime. You know where he stands, where you stand with him, unless you dare to fall into those emerald green eyes. Then you drown with no help in the darkness as his past dictates your future. Would he be able to call anyone friend? Would you dare to go to him with your troubles knowing what his life has been like? Anything in comparison is shameful; remain quiet and remember who you're with.
She was alone. Faced with decisions every day that one person may never make in a lifetime. Tears sting her eyes as she looks around the table at those that would die for her, but could never really understand her. A leader, a warrior, a changer of cultures and cities. But alone. Desperate for a friend, a companion, in ways that no one seems to understand. How can so many people from different walks of life come and go and never truly know who she is? Never bother to take the time? Do any of these people seated here, sharing tales and ale, really know her?
Do they know she goes home at night to her empty home, the loss of family a constant weight on her heart, and cries herself to sleep? Do they even care that more than once, shamefully dozens of times, she has considered leaving this world and joining her family's side in death? Her father, gone, ripped from her before her life had even begun in her mind. Her mother, in this world long enough to see two of her three children gone, and then she joined them. Her siblings; so distant in life as they are now in death.
Always alone. And none of them know. None of them care to. They are content with living their lives, dealing with their own struggles. Can she blame them? Or are they just as alone as she is? Do they all just come together because they are all suffering so deeply they have nowhere else to turn? Their faces turn to her now, not full of concern at the dam threatening to leave her eyes, but to see what's on the agenda for the coming day.
Game face on as always. Get through another day. They look to her as they tend to do. And as alone as she was, she was still expected to save the day. Or week. Year? Life. When will someone save her? And is it even possible? Or is it too late?