"In war, victory
In peace, vigilance
In death, sacrifice"
-Grey Warden motto
"Orzammar?"
He raised a thick brown eyebrow at his ally. "What? Do you have some sort of personal vendetta against dwarves?" he questioned.
Alistair was quick to take back his words. "No, no, no, not at all, I just don't think they're the best choice at the moment," he answered hastily. The brunet's expression remained unchanging. "I'm just saying, we have other options to consider before running off to Orzammar. There's the Circle of Magi, the Dalish, Arl Eamon—even if he is a bit iffy at the moment—and…" Still not convinced. "What?"
"…So you do have a personal vendetta against—"
"Oh shut up."
Jack Cousland laughed at the scowl growing on Alistair's face. "Well, by all means, Alistair, pick a place! Morrigan said it before, right? You're the senior Warden here. You should be calling the shots, not me," he reminded him before taking a small swig from his flask.
Alistair rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the campfire. "We're not having this conversation again, Jack. I don't want to be the leader here, end of discussion," he replied curtly.
"Alright, alright. Don't get your knickers in a twist."
Deciding to change his train of thought, he began scanning the campsite, arms laid across one of the logs surrounding the campfire as he surveyed his companions. Alistair's eyebrows were furrowed slightly, either upset by the cold of night or upset by Cousland's teasing. He seemed to be struggling to keep warm, inching so close to the fire, Cousland could've sworn he was trying to hug it. Behind him, a stoic Sten shifted cautiously from one foot to another. Cousland bit back a snort as he continued to watch the qunari's impatience. It almost resembled a dance, from the way he returned to each foot in a made-up rhythm.
"What do you mean this costs forty-five silver?"
Cousland's ears twitched at the thunderous voice he recognized as Morrigan's. She stood near Bodahn's wagon, silver chain gripped tightly in her right fist as she wagged it in front of the dwarf's face. The apostate shouted over whatever he tried to say, drawing out her argument in a long detailed complaint that Bodahn seemed to have trouble keeping up with. Cousland tried looking past Sten's armor to see how Sandal was holding up, but the boy looked more confused than upset by the noise. His face bore an absent smile as he glanced between the two, oblivious to what was going on.
"I told you I'd give you a special discount, and I did! If you don't like it, you can look elsewhere!" Bodahn spoke up, feigning sternness. He sounded hesitant and a little afraid, however, so the façade didn't work so well.
Morrigan scoffed. "Don't spew such lies to me, you money-grubbing dwarf! I know what you are trying to do; I am no fool. Any merchant with a brain would claim that they are offering a discount, only to increase the price by an oversized amount. I, however, refuse to play this game. I will pay nothing more than ten silver for this trinket, and you will be grateful that you aren't paying me with your life," she hissed, hands faintly surrounded by a purple glow Cousland recognized as magic.
Bodahn's eyes grew wide as he stared at the impending doom her hands resembled. "Ten silver? That's almost ten times less than the amount I b-!" A threatening fist brought before his face cut him off. He made a low guttural noise in the bottom of his throat, so frozen in his terror that he couldn't even shrink back in fear. "…How does twenty silver sound?"
Upon hearing Cousland's amused chuckle, Alistair turned around. "You aren't going to do anything?" he asked.
Cousland shrugged. "Not my problem. Plus, it's more fun to watch, don't you think?" he mused. "You have to admit, he has guts. If I were him, I'd just give it to her for free."
Alistair laughed shortly before frowning a little. "…Oh, why did I laugh?"
He responded with a grin. "Because I'm hilarious," he said simply before taking another tiny sip from his flask.
"Mm? What's all the noise?"
Cousland's eyes lit up at the sweet sound of Leliana's voice. He quickly straightened and sat up in his spot, smiling pleasantly at her. "How was your sleep? Did you have any more…interesting dreams?" he inquired.
"If by 'interesting dreams'," Leliana yawned, still drowsy from her nap, "you mean a vision from the Maker, then no."
"Well actually, by 'interesting dreams' I meant dreams about me, but that works, too," Cousland replied with a wink.
Leliana smiled politely in return. "None of those either, sorry… I see Morrigan is stirring up trouble again," she hastily changed the subject.
Cousland returned his attention to the quarrel at hand, watching Morrigan continue her rant. "Yes, well, you know her. The woman can't go a day without screaming her head off at someone," he said with a chuckle.
"Perhaps someone should go calm her down. She looks awfully mad," Leliana suggested, staring at the mage's hands, which were now fully swelling with magic.
"I say let her get mad. I haven't seen a show this entertaining since the time I convinced Mother I was pregnant," he laughed. The redhead gaped at him for a moment, mouth dropped open in disgust, before he speedily added, "but, of course, this is different. Morrigan could really hurt someone, after all."
"Oh, but Jack, I thought you said it wasn't your problem. You wouldn't want to tire yourself over something that doesn't concern you, now would you?" Alistair mocked, fashioning Cousland's previous grin.
Cousland flashed a nervous smile at Leliana before punching Alistair in the arm and heading towards the fray. His grin automatically returned upon arriving at the scene. "You guys mind taking the volume down a bit? You woke poor Leliana, after all," he cut in smoothly, looking between the two as he spoke.
Bodahn's eyes reminded him of a frightened Halla, shrunken and shaking with fright. He looked to Cousland desperately, his face screaming a silent 'help me.' Already, it seemed Morrigan had taken her wrath out on the ground around him, barely missing Sandal and scorching the roof of his wagon. Morrigan's features were curled in a snarl, something dark with a twist of impatience clouding her eyes. She wasn't angry, not at all, but she was clearly irritated and grumpier than usual. It would hardly be too difficult to calm her. At least, it wouldn't be as difficult as it could have been…
"This fool of a dwarf refuses to lower his price to the proper standard. Either you side with him or you side with me," Morrigan explained, her hand's glow increasing as she emphasized the word 'fool'.
"Price? What for?" he questioned innocently. He then looked at her fist—her clenched, shaking, dangerously glowing fist—and noticed the silver chain dangling off it. Swiftly, he unfolded her hand and took the object from her. "This? Oh, I could pay for this. How much?"
The dwarf's voice was raspy as he answered, "F-forty-five silver, ser."
Cousland casually searched through his backpack for the proper amount before handing it off to the shorter man, adding in a polite word of thanks as he did so. "There we go," he said firmly, proud of his resolution. Nothing else could possibly go wrong. "Anything else you wanted, Morrigan?"
Except that. She smiled wickedly, all irritation forgotten. "A few things, actually…" she replied. A nervous, audible gulp sounded from Cousland's throat. Smooth.
Alistair watched the brunet noble suck up to Morrigan from afar. "Of all the Grey Wardens that could've survived, Jack Cousland had to be one of them…" he chuckled, half bitterly, half in amusement.
"Do you dislike Ser Cousland?" Leliana inquired.
He shrugged, leaning over to steal the flask Cousland had left unguarded. "It's not that, it's just…he's not exactly the heroic type, you know?" he replied.
She tilted her head at him. "True, he may not be very saintly, but he doesn't seem to be very criminal, either," she defended as she subconsciously started petting the nearby mabari hound, who had quietly crept up to the campfire in search of attention.
Despite the amount of times Cousland had taken a swig, much alcohol remained in the flask. Alistair closely analyzed the miracle as he responded, "I know, but…when I imagined being a Grey Warden, I thought I'd be fighting side by side with the bravest of the brave…not some immature spoiled drunkard."
"If he is really what you say he is, why do you travel with him?" Leliana questioned as she scratched the mabari behind his ears. The dog panted in response, his tail wagging.
Alistair opened the flask cautiously, peering into it afterwards. "I don't exactly have a choice in the matter. It's my duty as a Grey Warden to protect us from the Blight, and that's exactly what I intend to do, even if I have to deal with him to do that," he answered before taking a long mouthful. He scrunched his face at the overwhelming taste of strong alcohol burning his throat, nearly spilling the contents of the flask as he did so. "Bloody hell, what did he fill this with? Shots?"
"No, it's just beer. I got tired of the taste after a while, so I added in a tad more alcohol," Cousland corrected, snatching the flask from a recovering Alistair.
"A tad? Just how much was that?" he questioned.
Cousland paused for a moment, mulling it over in his head, before taking a quick drink. "Can't say I remember, sorry," he said with a nonchalant shrug. "Anyway, now that Morrigan is done bleeding me dry… We still haven't decided where we're going in the morning, have we?"
Leliana's eyes were on the ever-so-pleased mabari as she spoke. "Do we really need to decide where to go first? Can't we just go to all four at once?" she mused.
"Oh, of course! I'll just grab the Handy-Dandy Alistair maker, and we'll be on our way!" Alistair exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air unsteadily.
"Oh dear. I think Alistair's had too much," Cousland clucked. "No more flask alcohol for you!"
Alistair glared at the brunet. "Like I'd want any more of that vile concoction shoved down my throat," he snapped, swiping at him. Cousland laughed and swatted right back.
She narrowed her eyes at the two and their semi-drunken play-fight, frowning. "Well, we don't necessarily need a Grey Warden to accompany us. Just send Morrigan, Sten, and I with the treaties, and we'll take care of the rest," she continued, attempting to steer the conversation back on track.
"She makes a good point. Any objections, my sarcastic friend?" Cousland inquired.
Said friend was silent for a moment, face unreadable as he stared into the fire blaring before him. "Jack, could we talk in private for a moment?" he requested finally. He stood, solemn and serious, and held out a hand for Cousland to take.
His eyebrows rose comically. "Uh-oh," he said, laughing briefly before being dragged to the side.
Both men continued into the forest, where the glow of the campfire barely reached the depths of the shadows. Stumbling over twigs and bushes, Cousland wondered distantly if Alistair was actually planning on hurting him there in the dark. Neither knew each other very well at that point, and despite the fact that they had no one else to turn to, they were strangers. Also, he wasn't sure how much alcohol Alistair had in his system at the time...
"What are you doing?" Alistair questioned suddenly.
Cousland flashed a sheepish smile, realizing that he had been slowly backing away. "Nothing, nothing. What did you want to talk about?" he inquired.
Alistair looked towards the camp once more, checking to see that no one was listening in. Leliana seemed to be having a deep conversation with Cousland's dog, petting him in repeated strokes as she spoke with him. Morrigan was off to the side, as always, watching her own campfire with an empty gaze. Sten continued to wait impatiently, though he looked ready to join Leliana in conversation with the dog, his eyes darting towards the two every now and then. Each of them looked equally absorbed in their own worlds. They would be safe, for the time being.
"We can't trust them with any of the treaties. Ever," Alistair started, lowering his voice halfway through his statement.
The brunet didn't answer for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "And…why not?" he asked slowly.
He avoided the odd look his companion was giving him. "Just look at them. Leliana's a whacko, Morrigan's a bitch, and Sten… Sten just creeps me out," he admitted. Upon hearing the faint sound of Cousland snickering, he deadpanned. "What?"
"You say 'whacko' weird…" Cousland sniggered.
Alistair didn't even bother to roll his eyes. "Ignoring that," he said. "Think about it for a second, Jack. These documents are Grey Warden property—we can't just go handing them out to whomever we please. If we were to lose any one of these treaties, we would be losing valuable forces!"
Cousland crossed his arms, sobering. "I understand what you're getting at, but Leliana poses a good point. If we were to split up the work evenly, we would be able to get prepared for the Blight more quickly. Besides, we took these people along for a reason: to use them. What better use than our own personal messengers?" he countered.
"Even if we could trust these strangers, who's going to believe them without real Grey Wardens traveling with them? Not only that, but with Loghain hunting us down, it's much too risky to split up so soon after leaving Ostagar. One of them could get captured—one of us could get captured—and then who would negotiate the treaties?" Alistair said, the volume of his voice escalating as he went on. The noble remained silent, unsure of how to object. "I just don't think it's such a good idea to send others to do what we should be doing ourselves. You don't have to listen to me, but I'm just putting it out there."
Finally, after another short silence, Cousland smiled. "I'll be sure to think on it, don't worry. I'm not as thickheaded as you think," he assured him.
The blond snorted. "I'm sure."
Disregarding the clear insult, Cousland continued back towards the campsite. "Let's go. It's bloody freezing over here," he announced, warily stepping over branches and roots hidden in the shadows.
"Right behind you," Alistair agreed with a loud shiver. His foot had barely grazed over a twig when a sudden snap resounded from afar, quiet yet very distinct. He withdrew his step and squinted at the darkness behind him, scanning the shade for any sign of life. Although no other movements or sounds indicated someone there, there was a feeling in his gut—an instinct, almost—that warned him otherwise.
"Al? Everything alright over there?" Cousland inquired from the camp, kicking away a nearby stick as he did so.
Alistair immediately turned to shout at his fellow Warden, "For the last time, jackass, my name is Alistair."
Cousland cracked a new grin. "You call me Jack, so I get to call you Al."
"And what else would I call you? Jackary?"
A wider grin was all Cousland offered as a response. He then turned to Leliana and proceeded to resume his nightly flirting whilst she resumed her nightly ignoring his attempts. By the time Alistair turned back to the blackness looming behind him, the presence had receded. Albeit still suspicious, the Warden wasn't about to waste his time wrestling around in the dark for something that may or may not have even been there. Carefully manipulating his steps over miscellaneous branches, Alistair hurried back to the campfire, oblivious to a pair of eyes watching him from afar.
