Chapter Text
She had played this part of the game so many times now, Naomi was sure she’d memorized each line of dialogue. From her companions to Eamon, even Riordans little monologue about the Archdemon. However, this time would be different! Angrily she clicked on the screen, directing her character towards their room, heart thumping slightly in nervousness. Her friends told her she had a problem. That she was obsessed with a fictional world. Well what was so wrong with that? The real world usually sucked anyway! Nothing but work, sleep and more work! In Dragon Age she had no bills, no responsibilities, and a cast of characters who appreciated her eccentricities. Mentally she sighed, Unlike my very lonely real life. The thought made her pause, her throat briefly closing as she blinked back the telltale sting of tears.
Rallying, she waited as the scene loaded, Morrigan standing quietly before the fireplace, a solemn look decorating her face. A scene she had watched hundreds of times before. Naomi regarded the mage carefully, she had always wondered how Morrigan felt deep down about this offer. Didn’t she hate Alistair's guts? I don’t know about her, but I wouldn’t want to sleep with someone I hated . A small sardonic smile curved her lips. At least this time Morrigan wouldn’t have to. The dialogue had finally reached its apex, and the choice to accept or decline the dark ritual was suddenly staring her in the face. Compressing her lips she fixated on the options. She could do it. She could ignore the dark ritual and kill off her character. It was just a stupid game right?
Naomi huffed out a brief breath, annoyed at her racing heart and sweating palms. She’d never not done the ritual before, too terrified of accidentally killing Alistair or herself and denying them their happy ending. Was it so wrong to want happiness for her fictional life? She closed her eyes. This. This was why she had to do this. She wasn’t even thinking of the warden as a character anymore, but as herself! “This is really unhealthy, isn’t it?” she asked her empty apartment. The buzz of her aging fridge, the only answer.
Naomi forced herself to turn Morrigan down, cringing as the woman she considered a good friend yelled in anger before sweeping away and transforming into a wolf. Well… she thought. That wasn’t so bad?
Mentally she rallied, the game marching on as Queen Anora came forward to deliver her battle speech. With a sigh she leaned back against her couch, mentally comparing the Queen's speech to Alistairs when she had made him King.
A soft meow drew her attention to her cat as he climbed into her lap. “Here for moral support little buddy?” she crooned, scratching the blacked haired menace beneath the chin. Right. She could do this. Grabbing her mouse she prepared to fight through the city, quickly checking to make sure her entire party was equipped, and tearfully listening to their last goodbyes. At the character selection screen she hesitated. Why was this so hard?
Should she take Alistair? He wouldn’t try and strike the killing blow would he? He never had before. In fact, he’d never disobeyed an order in game. Of course he hasn’t, he’s a video game character! Shaking her head at her foolishness she grabbed Wynne and Zevran as well, and set off for the first general. “I’m over thinking things aren’t I Wigums?” she asked the cat, blowing out a huff of air at her nervousness.
On and on they fought through the city to Fort Drakon, the fights now instinctive as she directed her party to make choke points, using her mage to rain huge elemental storms on scours of darkspawn. Giggling maniacally she mixed the inferno spell with the electrical vortex, watching as the two huge columns of energy obliterated everything. “I wish they had kept those in Inquisition.” Naomi told her cat, glancing down to watch his ear flick to hers slightly. “Yeah.” She sighed. “That would have been a little too OP I guess.”
Finally they were fighting the Archdemon. Like a well-oiled machine she directed the flow of battle, decimating the enormous dragon in record time. Smiling, she leaned back as the dragon keened towards the ground. Now was her moment! Abruptly the camera flipped to Alistair, his armor shining as he strode towards her character.
“Wait. Let me. There is no need for you to die. This is my duty, I should be the one to kill it.” He faced her character, weight shifting as his eyes almost seemed to lock with hers.
Naomi froze, her hands white knuckling around her mouse and keyboard. Sucking in a harsh breath she stared down the other warden. “Like fucking hell.” She muttered. Scrolling down she glanced through the options, angrily selecting her refusal. They would do this wouldn’t they? Goddamn Bioware. Her previous adrenaline filled good mood was quickly turning sour.
He smiled in response, titling closer. A shiver raced down her spine at his movements. Was it just her or did they seem more…. Real? Less… stock? Shaking her head in frustration she blocked out the thought. “I will reload the shit out of this save if I have to. Fuck this self help bullshit.”
On screen Alsitair was continuing, “I know how I feel about you, I won’t let you die, not while I can do something about it.”
“Stop it!” she growled, panic curling in her gut. Unreasonable panic, her brain whispered. What was happening? “The one time you decide to try and take a stand it’s now!? Why?” Angrily she closed her eyes, trying to find the right words amongst the options to convince him down. “Which one is it?” she hissed. This had not been part of the plan. Her heart beat anxiously, her throat closing as her eyes watered. “I’m the one dying here, not you, so stop it!”
With a soft chuckle he straightened. “You say that as if I’m giving you a choice.”
Naomi froze, mouth dropping in surprise. She hadn’t clicked an option… abruptly the screen flipped, Alistair turning to run towards the Archdemon, hands grasping the sword to end its life. “No! Shit!” Scrambling for her mouse she clutched the useless hunk of plastic in her hands, eyes riveted to the familiar scene, suddenly tragic to watch in the dim light of her apartment. This wasn’t….. “It’s just a game, it’s just a game.” She repeated the mantra, willing tears away. “For fuck sake.” She hissed, wiping her cheek. This was like Mass Effect 3 all over again! Except for some reason this was almost impossible to watch.
His eyes seemed to almost lock with hers again as he raised his sword high, face smiling slightly as he plunged it into the Archdemons head, blinding light pouring from the wound. Her eyes locked with his, blurring as the Archdemon entered its death throes. Why?
Instead of ending as it usually did, the light got brighter and brighter, the TV blaring with a cacophony of sound. On her lap Wigums meowed nervously, wriggling away. This definitely wasn’t normal. “Wigs?” Naomi gasped, staring at her screen in growing worry, the noise almost deafening now. “What the hell is happening?!” Abruptly the light exploded outwards with a bang, the screech of her coffee table shattering barely audible beneath her own scream of terror as a concussive blast of air knocked her clean over the edge of her couch. She lunged to her feet, adrenaline having her standing before she lurched over, gasping at the lack of air.
“Holy shit!” She choked out, coughing and wheezing, rubbing the after images away. She thumped her chest desperately as she staggered around the wrecked contents of her living room, dizzy. Suddenly a soft groan rose from next to her couch, low and male in the quiet, and distinctly not cat like. Body stiffening she peered over the edge.
Beneath her a man sprawled across the destruction of what had once been her coffee table, silver plated armor glinting in the light from her ceiling. Her breath seized in her chest as he shifted, shield and sword clanking against his back as he began to push himself upright.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Naomi gasped, reaching down to grab a table leg tightly. A stranger was in her house, had someone thrown a flashbang into her living room? What the hell was happening. Why was he here??
With a huff the man pushed himself upright, golden red hair matted and dirty. “Well that wasn’t how I expected that to go”
She stared, brain seizing as that voice echoed through her apartment. “What…” she croaked, vision blackening, air thinning as she hyperventilated. She choked, trying to force her laboring lungs to breathe. There was a strange man in her house and she could NOT pass out.
“My love?!” He was standing now, face shadowed as he reached with a blood covered hand for her
She lost the fight. The world careened to black, the endearment echoing as her face rushed to meet the floor.