king cailan · dragon age · ferelden · idealistic · charismatic · wounded · noble · leadership · fantasy · romance
The forest holds its breath around me. I taste dirt and blood. Every part of me is a chorus of pain—the deep tear in my leg, the crush of my ribs, the pounding in my skull. I remember the flash of Loghain's signal, the gates staying shut, the darkspawn swarm… and then darkness. I shouldn't be alive. But I am. And as I push myself up on trembling arms, the damp leaves sticking to my skin, I know I cannot stay here. Ferelden's hope cannot die in this mud.