She had finally wrangled an assignment to get away from other Wardens, constant talk of darkspawn and posturing. The blight was over, the Architect dead, and when the talk turned to rebuilding the Wardens, Citrine Amell was fighting the real urge to not vomit on the speaker.
She would never say it to Alastair because his feelings for the Wardens were so wrapped in Duncan and tragedy that she stepped lightly if at all on the subject. Though she was cautious to not sneer, he was more observant than he usually got credit for, and especially with her. Every facial expression of hers was examined for meaning and filed and never forgotten. It was touching, but it was also bloody inconvenient. She knew that he knew that her role in the Wardens wasn't a matter of pride for her, but of horror and circumstance. He stepped just as lightly as she did on the subject.
She felt free on the road, cleaning up small groups of darkspawn. She felt even better when there was no darkspawn at all. She didn't fool herself into thinking she was ridding the world of darkspawn. They were endless. At least this she could damned well do. She didn't exactly hum when she was killing them, but she sometimes felt like it in comparison to her other duties. As horrific as the darkspawn were, she felt cleaner killing them than she did representing the Wardens in any capacity. If, as commander, she tended to alter the roster occasionally to give herself a break from actual choices made regarding condemning other people to nightmare, death and horror, so be it. Peace was fleet and she chased it, away from the sources of turmoil.
It was an odd world when the death screams and clash of metal and spark of magic were the things that brought her the most comfort as far as her job went.
Alastair was with her and that's what mattered. The world wasn't going to end. She wished people could start behaving as if that were true, could start celebrating. Instead they used the excuse of "rebuilding the order" to coerce farmer's boys and girls into death and darkness.
Splattered in ichor and blood seemed to be the safest place for her. As long as he was with her, that's really all that mattered to her. She was no longer worried that either of them would die in a skirmish, because they could both sense where darkspawn were. They wouldn't be caught out. On the road they were never permitted to buy their own drinks and found a lot of friendship and thanks from those who remained after the blight was over. She enjoyed it, meeting people, meeting them again a few months later as she passed through her rounds of the hot spots. She hoped she managed to at least protect more people than she allowed to die to the demands of the Joining chalice.
The rattle of armor behind her made her smile. Alastair's voice rang out "Guess who!"
She didn't turn but kept smiling. He continued "No, really, guess. Guess who is covered in blood and shouldn't be touching anybody?"
She turned to look at him, he wasn't kidding. She said "Do we pay attention to shouldn't?"
He laughed "No! That is part of our irascible charm." Throwing down his gauntlets without care, he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her and said "I'm the charming part, you're the irascible part."
She drew her brows together "Wait, I want to be charming."
He shook his head. "Too late. Not with that expression on your face. Any darkspawn not already eviscerated is running away from you. I'm brave enough to approach."
She opened her mouth to argue but he kissed her until she wasn't formulating any new thoughts. He quirked a smile and said "Remember we were here a few months back?"
She nodded "And we found that pond…"
He wrinkled his nose "The pond with the leeches."
She shrugged "You remember your favorite part, I will remember mine."
He shrugged also "Totally worth the leeches by the way."
She smiled "We can't always be covered in blood all the time. Itches."
He redirected her "Anyway, remember that part where we were here and it wasn't all about leeches?"
She nodded.
He held up a finger "Wait here. Don't move. Okay, you can move, but only if you still stay here."
She called after him "Why?"
He called back "Impatient and irascible!"
She sat down on a stump and started wiping the gore from her staff. She wondered if she just started rubbing it in, if it would develop a darkspawn patina. It would be convenient but…ew. She kept cleaning it, more industriously.
Alastair came back after a few minutes with a basket. She perked up "Dinner?" she said hopefully.
He winced. "No. Definitely no." The basket wriggled and she started to wonder. "Baby dragon?"
He shook his head. "No. Doesn't squeak like it. Anyway, we were here a while back and it appears that our companion was off on his own adventures." He pulled a puppy from the basket, a vigorously wriggling Mabari.
Her eyes went huge and she started making those baby talk noises that came unerringly after puppies arrive.
Alastair smiled but said "Peace, woman, this is a future warrior. Show some respect."
She curled the puppy into her arms and rubbed noses with it, and the puppy immediately attempted to bite her, but had poor aim and grip and mostly skidded off her nose.
Alastair said "She's just weaned."
The puppy turned at Alastair's voice and started to whimper.
Knowing that look, Citrine handed her back over to him. "She's yours."
He started, then lifted the puppy to look at her, the little Mabari's wriggling body frantic while her tongue was licking at his thumb, the only thing she could reach.
Alastair said "But she's supposed to be for you."
Citrine laughed "I can't have two Mabari myself, but we can share ours."
Alastair awkwardly hugged the puppy to him and smiled at the little wriggling mass of fur and teeth encouragingly "She's going to be magnificent."
Citrine laughed and tousled his hair "Did you think to get some food for her? She can't eat our food and we can't let her live on darkspawn blood."
Alastair pressed his lips together "I see several flaws in my original plan. True, you pointed them out first, but I see them now."
Citrine nodded sagely "For the gentleman with the tiny monster, anything."
Alastair considered "What should we name her?"
Citrine thought a moment and said "Not Goldanna."
Alastair shook his head "Notgoldanna is a terrible name."
Citrine waved her hand and said "I'm off to get you some food and blankets and something for her to chew on other than you." Citrine rescued Alastair's thumb from a determined if ineffective mauling and replaced it with a stick.
Alastair's lips twitched "I'm going to call her Isolde. She's a bitch."
Citrine laughed but said "You are not. She deserves better."
Alastair thought a little more "Let's call her Paragon."
Citrine laughed "Fine, just don't say that when we're in Orzammar. They might not understand."
Alastair agreed "Besides, they'd be jealous." He fell to making the same exact baby puppy noises that he'd stopped her from making as she walked away to get together a suitable puppy bivouac.
She was humming.