So the Prompt Fest has started up again at the Dragon Age livejournal community, and with all the hype surrounding the new game, I've been inspired to dip into the DA world again. Head on over to the DA LJ community if you too want to participate in fun writing times!

Prompt: It's not even my birthday

Bethany headed down to the Keep's mess hall for breakfast, one hand trailing against the wall. It was hard to believe that this enormous fortress rightfully belonged to Warden Howe... or at least it did by birth. Now it belonged solely to the Grey Wardens.

Her hand clenched convulsively and she paused before entering the hall to compose herself.

As she pushed open the door, a knot of other Wardens looked up from a table. Bethany's eyes snagged on the storm gray eyes of Nathaniel Howe and she nodded briefly before heading for the table where food was lined out in plentiful arrangements to meet the huge appetites of the wardens. Bethany's stomach rumbled despite herself, and she loaded her plate.

She had no sooner sat down at an empty table before a tall figure sat down next to her, plunking a plate in front of her. She blinked and looked into the angular face of Nathaniel Howe.

The plate he set down on the table held a small chocolate cake with a single candle in it.

"It's not my birthday," she blurted out, a little flustered by his closeness.

"It is," he said in a gravelly voice. "It's your second birthday."

"My 'second' birthday?"

"Tonight the Warden-Commander had told us we will be celebrating the first of what she hopes will be an annual event: the celebration of our becoming Wardens. Our 'second' births." He nudged the cake closer with the tip of a finger. "This is yours. Cook made one for everyone, though I had to save yours from Oghren."

Bethany felt her fingers clench the edge of the table. "Why," she said, her voice sounding brittle to her own ears, "would anyone want to celebrate the beginning of our eventual decline into madness?"

If she had hoped to crack the cool exterior of Nathaniel Howe, she was disappointed. His mouth twitched in what instead might have been a smile.

"It seems that way sometimes, but for many of these wardens—including myself—it is a day to celebrate a second chance. You know what my family was, Bethany, don't you? My father murdered the family of a man he once fought alongside as a comrade-in-arms. I was painted with the same brush: traitor, they called me. But here, among the Wardens, I am only a brother. What we were before no longer matters. The past cannot hold sway here." He peered at her face. "What were you before the Wardens, Bethany Hawke?"

Bethany's fingers twitched. "Thank you for the cake," she said after a moment, "but it is not a day that I want to celebrate. Oghren can have it."

Nathaniel let out a breath that was almost but not quite a sigh. "There will be a party tonight," he said. "Please come."

Bethany stared at her plate and made no response. His arm brushed hers as he rose from the bench beside her and left the table.

#

Apostate. The word resounded in her head. It was the kindest term out of many she had heard directed at herself by others, family, or even her own sense of guilt. Bethany sat in front of her fireplace, hands clasped in her lap. What was she now? As a Warden, she was no longer beholden to the Circle or Templars. She had loyalty only to the First Warden and her fellow wardens

"I shouldn't be here," she muttered to herself for what felt like the hundredth time. "I don't want to be here."

But she was here and there was no getting around it. Perhaps... perhaps she had to find that piece of her Malcom Hawke in herself. Her father was somehow able to become what he needed to be in every town they moved to. At the time, she'd thought it was mere survival that encouraged these changes, but now she looked at them in a new light. Maybe her father had relished the changes; maybe he had looked at them as opportunities rather than prisons.

Maybe... maybe Bethany Hawke could remake herself too. Maybe she could replace the word "apostate" with something else... something stronger. Bethany eased her way out of her room and followed the sound of laughter and music to the great hall. The party was in full swing when she opened the door to peek in. A quartet of wardens with instruments sat before the empty fireplace, feet tapping to the beat of their own music. A few couples were dancing, others eating, others just gathered in groups, talking.

She felt the urge to melt into the background, to blend in, to hide, and had to force herself to take a step into the room. One step more. She would change. She would be stronger... she would grow...

A passing servant carrying a tray of goblets passed by and on impulse, Bethany seized one and downed the liquid inside in one gulp.

It was a mistake. Choking, gasping as the alcohol burned down her throat and up her nose, Bethany squeezed her eyes shut as the unpleasant sensations passed.

"You came," said a voice above her.

She glanced up to see Nathaniel smiling down at her. Her heart gave a wild leap.

One step forward...

"Yes," she said, standing up straight and meeting his eyes, unable to stop herself from blushing, but trying not to care. "I figured out something."

"What is that?" he asked, holding her gaze.

"I want to be brave," she said, and before she lost her nerve, she took two steps forward and pressed her mouth against his.

Nathaniel stiffened at her touch and she started to draw away, but then his hands came up to her waist, and he was kissing her back and he tasted of wine and cinnamon and the start of something new.