Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Dragon Age. Bioware does, so please don't sue me. There are a few conversations that are taken directly from the game (and I know that all fangirls will know which ones), but it makes for a better sense of being in character. That and David Gaider and the Bioware writing staff are totally epic. THANK YOU to everyone who read, added, and reviewed the previous two stories in this series. It means more than I could write... :-) Big thanks to Viaan, Erykine, EmbersOfAmber, Whiteshade24, Primary, Speakfire, and -AnimeWhiteRose- for the reviews. This portion is a little lengthy, but is a turning point in my character's development. Next post will be much more romantic and action-filled... Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read! Much love!!
My sword's tip grazed the marble floor as I charged at my adversary. I lifted the blade and swung, but my attempt was easily thwarted and I was sent sprawling on my behind. I glowered up at my opponent and when he offered his hand, I just scoffed. Pulling myself back up into a vertical position, I hastily swung the sword once more, hoping that I had taken him off guard. It wasn't to be, however. He was too quick and by blocking the blow, my sword became dislodged from my grasp. He brought his own blade to the base of my throat, flaunting his victory.
"I yield," I muttered through gritted teeth.
The wooden blade was taken away from my jugular and I quickly sought out my fallen sword. I still had much to learn. But I had not even reached my teenage years and knew that if I kept up with my studies, I would best him one day. He just had the age advantage on me at the moment.
"It's not whether you win or lose, my darling sister," my brother stated in a pleasant yet mocking tone. "It's how you handle never winning."
"Cute," I scoffed, flipping the training sword between my hands. "It's just the age difference. Sooner or later, I will best you. Don't doubt it."
"There will always be eight years between us," he pointed out with a laugh, as he shrugged off his training armor, handing it to a nearby servant. "I will always have your number."
"Just keep telling yourself that, Fergus," I murmured, more to myself than him.
I turned away from my still grinning adversary and walked toward the nearest practice dummy. I fell into an offensive stance and struck at the torso. I quickly fell into a rhythm of strikes – torso, shoulder, neck before falling into a defensive stance. I knew the straw and wood could not come to life and attack, but if I learned anything from my brother, it was you always needed to be on you guard. I mimicked a few defensive poses before attacking anew.
I lost track at how long I spent in front of that dummy. I wanted to be stronger. I wanted to be faster. I wanted to be just as good my brother… if not better. Just the thought of Fergus's astonished face as my blade rested on his neck was enough to fuel my enthusiasm. I picked up the pace, forgetting all about anything but the dummy in front of me. Thus when I felt a warm pressure on my shoulder, I swung around ready to attack. The startled face of one of my servants was enough to cool my fervor.
"By the Maker," she exclaimed, stepping a few cautionary steps from me.
"I am sorry, Viola," I said with only a hint of annoyance. She should have known better than to disrupt me. "I didn't hear you and was startled."
"You were startled?" Viola said sardonically, before stepping up and taking the wooden blade from my grasp. "Your father wishes to see you. Go clean up, get into something suitable, and meet him in his study."
She shot me one last disapproving glance before turning away. I sighed and slowly made my way out of the training area. I walked through the stone corridors of the castle lost in my own head. I heard the passing salutations – "Good day, my lady," "How are you today, my lady…" – but responded to none. It wasn't that I was trying to be uncouth. I had nothing against the people of this castle.
It was the title and my station that bugged me. I was just beginning to realize what being a teyrn's daughter entailed. I was born into a position of power, of greatness, some may say. When I was younger, I loved being waited on – loved having my every desire granted at a flick of my fingers. Yet now, I realized just how lonely this life truly was. You never knew who was being genuine or false –who was your friend because they truly enjoyed your companionship or because of your family's name.
The past few years, I had spent more time with my nose stuck in books than socializing with the Highever populous. I had few friends outside of the castle, but it didn't bug me… much. At times, I prayed to the Maker that my life could be more normal – that my family's name didn't mean anything to the common person. I knew it was selfish and that I was being ungrateful, but in my adolescence, it was how I truly felt. I knew that I would never live up to the name of my ancestors – why even try?
Not heeding Viola's advice, I headed directly to my father study. I was clad in my basic training armor, which consisted of rough leather armor, boots, and gloves all branded with the Cousland family crest. My father knew very well of my training in swordplay; he was the one who put me on the road, anyhow. I didn't need to get dressed up in the frilly dresses my mother wished I would always wear just to see my father. I turned the knob on the door and wished that for once I wasn't so stubborn.
My father was not alone. My mother, brother, and sister-in-law were all present… along with other members of the Ferelden nobility. My mother shook her head disapprovingly, even though I knew for a fact that she was a pretty skilled fighter herself. My aspirations were nothing new to her. She did sympathize with my longings, but still wanted me to act more like a prober lady of the nobility. She always said that she praised the Maker when I was born, for I would be one Cousland who would not be raised on war and battle. Joke was on her, I guessed. My brother was trying his best not to laugh. If not for the fact that he was holding his toddler in his arms, I am sure he would have. My father's expression did not change. He was just happy that I was there.
"Ah, there you are, pup," he said with a smile, breaking the tension that had fallen over the crowd. I didn't recognize many of the other faces, so I kept my attention on my own family. "I hear you were training with Fergus once again."
"And losing miserably," Fergus remarked under his breath.
"Enough, my son," my mother imparted. "Theresa, would you please help me with some things in the next room?"
"Yes, mother," I muttered, as I followed her to the small adjoining room. I knew very well that she needed no help. The room held nothing but excess supplies. I hopped up onto a few crates in the storage area as my mother shut the door.
"Young lady, what were you thinking?" she questioned in a whisper, knowing very well that the room was hardly soundproof. "I told Viola to get you properly dressed. Do you know who we are in the presence of?"
"Father didn't seem to care," I stated brashly.
She shot me a look, telling me to keep my voice down. I didn't care. This was ridiculous. It wasn't like I was in my undergarments. It was just armor.
"Yes, because you truly are your father's daughter," she said with a sigh. I looked at her quizzically, unsure of what she meant by the statement. Instead of answering my silent query, she just continued on. "You know the Arl of Aramanthine and his family, but the other three visitors… oh, what they must think of us?"
"Mother, you make it seem like King Maric was here, himself," I joked with a chuckle. She just turned to me with a frown.
"No… just his son," she remarked. "Cailan has accompanied the teyrn of Gwaren and his daughter to Highever to invite us to the palace in Denerim for Wintersend."
"You mean the great Loghain Mac Tir is here?" I asked, eyes wide in admiration and excitement. "The Hero of River Dane is here! I have so much I want to ask and…"
"Theresa Rosalind Cousland, calm yourself," my mother declared sharply. "You will do no such thing. Teyrn Loghain is here as an envoy from the king. He is not here to answer the questions of a star struck child… and you will not bother his daughter or the king's son either. The way you have already behaved, I have the mind to send you to your room without supper."
I just glowered at my mother as she continued ranting about how a proper lady is supposed to act. I paid her no heed and returned to my own thoughts. I had heard countless tales from my father about the war with the Orlesians. My father fought with Maric's rebels, but it was Loghain Mac Tir who truly aided Maric and made the victory possible. I so longed to hear about those battles in his own words, but knew that my mother would see to it that I did not have the chance. I was startled from my thoughts when the door opened once more and my father poked his head in.
"Eleanor, our guests have moved to the dining hall," he said with a stern look on his face. "Would you please entertain them for a few moments?"
"Of course," she answered with a sigh, before placing a chaste kiss on his cheek and leaving the storage room. My father strode in and looked down at me from my seat on the crates. The sternness made way to a smile, as he leaned down and placed a kiss to the top of my head.
"You certainly made quite an entrance, pup," he mused with a laugh. "Your mother, I am sure, has already reprimanded you for your indiscretion."
"How was I to know of your guests, father?" I implored, even though I could see that he was not irked by the action. "Viola only told me to come and see you. If I would have known…"
"Hush, now," he said smiling. "You need not explain yourself to me. None of them were at all offended. Why would they be? You just proved how much of a Cousland you truly are. Now, why don't you go wash up, get dressed 'suitably', and meet us for supper?"
I quickly shot up – my breath coming out in ragged gasps. My heart was threatening to burst from my chest. It felt so real… it was real. Six years ago, that was my life; a young girl who wanted nothing more than follow in her father and brother's footsteps. Forget courtly aspirations – I wanted battle and adventure. Yet this was not the way I hoped for my dream to come true.
When we left Denerim weeks ago, I thought I was finally getting past these morbid feelings of failure. That was truly why the ghosts of my past were still haunting me so… I felt like I could have done more. I could have stayed with my family, protected them until my final breath. But after being in the company of my companions for so long – undertaking this monumental task of ending the Blight that was threatening Thedas – my feelings were changing. Even though as a Grey Warden my surname and title have been discarded, what I am doing is in part to uphold the Cousland name in Ferelden. I was not about to let it just become a memory, burnt up in the flames at the castle in Highever.
Yet with that motivation on my mind constantly, it was hard to let the ghosts finally rest and truly move on. Today's events did little to help my unpredictable emotional state. I lifted my hand into my vision, staring at the amulet that was entwined around my fingers. With my finger, I rubbed over the symbol of the Chantry that was emblazoned on it. It was nothing fancy – not something that I would have even batted an eyelash at back at Highever. With a flick of my finger, the amulet turned to the other side – a mirrored back that I had found myself enraptured by for the whole time it was in my possession.
The amulet was given to me by my father… not the physical warm and loving teyrn of Highever. No, it was a spirit taking on my father's appearance. It all seemed so real – the way he spoke, what he spoke… he even called me "pup." I thought I would never hear that pet name again and it made a smile come to my lips. It was short-lived however… the spirit could not stay. "You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back" – the calm yet resolute statement embodied my father's essence. In a moment of foolish hopefulness, I pleaded for it to stay at least for a little while longer. He just smiled and responded "Now go, carry with you my love and forgiveness, pup."
Before the spirit faded, it passed me the amulet. We did not have much time to sit and reflect… the urn was figuratively within our grasp. More trials lied ahead of us – including having to deliver the "killing" blow to a spirit resembling Alistair. If I had not still been in shock from speaking to my father once more, that action would have torn me apart a lot more than it did. I was proud at myself for actually being able to accomplish the task with little emotion.
When we finally reached the urn, I did not feel an overwhelming emotion take over me like it did two of my companions. Leliana and Wynne both had gleams in their eyes that rivaled mine when I saw my father. Alistair was just happy that the urn had finally been found – that there was a good chance that Arl Eamon could be saved. I just wanted to take some of the ashes and get back to camp. I needed some time to myself… needed time to reflect on all that had happened.
When we did make it back to camp, Wynne took me aside and talked about my personal experience in the Gauntlet. She did not have any factual information on the occurrence, but a theory that what I saw was a spiritual image coming from my own subconscious. The image I saw of my father was more a part of me than it was him. That did little to help my restless mind and I retired early to my tent, sparing no words to any of my other companions.
I spent a long while just thinking… thinking of the past, thinking of the present. The one thing that never reached my subconscious was the future. It was still so volatile; I couldn't fathom trying to hope for anything other than surviving. I would look at the amulet and ponder the words of the spirit whom gave it to me. Was this trial supposed to be a sense of closure? The Guardian of the Ashes was the one who first brought up that fateful night at Cousland Castle. He wondered if I had any second thoughts about leaving my parents to die. I answered truthfully, thus maybe seeing my father was my reward: the Gauntlet's way of trying to get me to move on once and for all.
As I stared at the amulet in my hand through the moonlight that filtered into my tent, I watched as the mirrored façade reflected my features back at me. This was the aspect of the pendant that held me so captivated. If I looked into the reflection hard enough, my features seemed to morph into someone else. It was fleeting, but it was as if my eyes turned darker… my hair short and grayer… a frown turned into a smile. My father…
I pulled my eyes away from the silver object and crawled toward the opening of my tent. I didn't want to sit in contemplation anymore. I needed to talk to someone. I tried to remember who was on watch duty tonight, silently praying that it was either Alistair or Leliana. I needed someone I could talk to; someone that I knew would listen and respond in kind. I pushed back the fabric and scanned the area. One lone figure sat near the flickering yet fading flame of the campfire. I sighed… not exactly the listening type, at least I don't think he is. Even so, I pushed open my tent, stood, and walked over to where he sat.
"Want some company?"
He turned to me and I watched as his golden eyes glowed in the fire's light. A smirk came to his face, one that I would have taken offense to weeks ago. Now, it had just become part of his charm.
"I thought you would never ask, my dear Grey Warden," Zevran purred in such a seductive manner that a blush arose on my cheeks.
"Wait – that's not what I meant," I quickly stated, prompting a chuckle from the elf.
"Yes, yes… I am fully aware of that," he said, patting the soil a few inches from him as an invitation. I sat down as he continued. "But I could not pass up a chance to see the color that such a request would bring to your features. Such a lovely shade of pink, no?"
"It's just the heat from the fire," I muttered evenly, knowing full well that he knew the true cause.
Since he joined our ragtag group weeks ago, any opportunity he could get to good-naturedly bother any member of the group he would take. Alistair and I were seemingly the easiest targets. I did not mind as much as the former templar, but that was because he had yet to fully trust the assassin. I couldn't blame him as Zevran did try to kill us after all. That futile attempt seemed to be water under the bridge for many of us at camp as the elf had been quite useful and reliable since.
"Whatever you say. Now, what brings you out here at this time of night?" he asked, the slightly lecherous grin still adorning his features. "Looking for someone to keep you warm and safe from the cold?"
"Maybe," I murmured, pulling my knees to my chest. I rested my cheek on my knees and turned to him. At least now, he couldn't see my blushing as much. "Or maybe I just wanted to talk… if you don't mind. You know, get to know you a little better."
"I know other ways we could get to know each other," he purred in the same sultry tone as earlier. I buried my face in my hands, but knew I was too late. "Ha, ha – there it is again!"
"You truly are insufferable," I remarked after a few moments. I turned to him once more as he shrugged, still smiling. Was he ever unhappy? After the life he has led, I would think he would have to be.
"I've learned to take pleasures when they come," he answered truthfully. "And this, my dear, is quite pleasurable."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I was still slightly unnerved by my dream of the past and he seemed quite content to just sit in each other's company. Yet I came outside with a purpose of trying to forget about the past… about trying to move on. I didn't feel comfortable opening up to Zevran as much as I would have a few of my other companions, but he could prove a usual diversion. I knew that as long as Howe lived, moving on would be virtually impossible, but I couldn't dwell on that. Ferelden needed me to stay strong.
"So… care to tell me a little about Antiva?" I asked, trying to pick a query that would be easy to answer yet interesting. I knew very little of the place even though my sister-in-law was from the land. She spoke of it seldom and considered Ferelden her home.
"Oh, you wish to know about Antiva, do you?" he asked rhetorically with childlike eyes. He truly must love the place. I would never think of Highever with that type of glee. "The only way to truly appreciate it would be to go there. It is a warm place, not cold and harsh like this Ferelden. In Antiva, it rains often but the flowers are always in bloom, or so the saying goes."
"Don't you want to go back?" I asked and his expression immediately fell. It was very slight, but I noticed some of the glimmer dim from his irises. He sighed and looked at me.
"It's not really a matter of wanting to go back: I cannot go. At least, not yet," he stated in the firmest tone I had ever heard from him. I was about to press on, but he quickly shifted tones. It was once again lighthearted. "I hail from the glorious Antiva City – home to the royal palace. It is a glittering gem amidst the sand, my Antiva City. Do you come from some place comparable?"
The question caught me off guard. Highever was just like the rest of Ferelden's settlements. Well, maybe it was a little more built-up and prosperous, but it would be nothing in comparison to his homeland. From what I knew of Antiva City, it was one of the (if not the) wealthiest places in all of Thedas. Highever was nothing like that. Thus I decided to answer with wit. It was something that I had sharpened over the course of this journey and used any time I did not have a genuine answer… or when I was too embarrassed to tell the truth.
"Of course, my mother was better than any gem," I said with a grin. He just laughed and I was happy to see that much of the fire had returned to his eyes.
"You have me there, indeed. I, for one, can make no such claim, as I never laid eyes on the woman," he stated, but there was no fall in his tone.
Unlike Alistair, whose lack of familial ties haunted him to this day, Zevran just took it as part of life. I wished that I could have his attitude. I didn't have any family left and it hurt me every day. But Zevran… he knew nothing of family or even love for that matter and he seemed fine with it. It was odd, but I could never ask him about it. Not yet anyway…
"Hmm, you know what is most odd?" he posed, breaking me from my own musings. I just shook my head. "We speak of my homeland, and for all its wine and its dark haired beauties, and the lillo flutes of the minstrels… I miss the leather the most."
"Is that some kind of euphemism?" I asked with a laugh. He couldn't have been serious, and from what I knew of the Antivan, almost every reference he made was something sexual. If not, there was some part that was at least a little salacious.
"It may as well be, but not this once, no," he said with a chuckle. "I mean the smell – for years, I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits… packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day, the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home, more than anything else."
"You sound like you've been away from home forever," I mused, as even his description of the leather was slightly wistful in nature.
"Oh, not so long, I know. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly," he answered, an almost genuine smile coming to his face. It soon merged once more into his normal grin. I wished that I could bring out the smile again for it truly was beautiful. "Before I left, I was tempted to spend what little coin I possessed on leather boots I spotted in a store window. Finest Antivan leather – perfect craftsmanship. Ah, but I was a fool to leave them. I thought, 'Ah, Zevran – you can buy them when you return as a reward for a job well done.' More the fool I, no?"
"This job being killing me, right?" I asked while he laughed. He nodded still chuckling.
"Yes, and now here I am," he said, spreading his arms out and gesturing to the quiet campsite. "One simply never knows what is to come next. How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden – a woman who then spares my life? I could not."
My mind did not process much of what he said. It was stuck on the adjective he used to describe me. Beautiful… Besides himself and Alistair, I had never actually heard myself addressed in that manner. Sure, I had suitors back in Highever, but I never took any of them seriously. I wanted to marry for love, not for politics. And on this journey that was just so full of death and destruction, I was being designated as something truly converse – something I was not used to.
"Beautiful, is it?" I asked with a slight blush.
"I say you are beautiful, because it is true. Should I not?" he asked in a tone that was more serious than in jest. I shook my head with a chuckle before turning back to him.
"No, by all means," I said with a smile.
"And glad I am to hear it," he responded and his smile did return.
He did not want to speak of Antiva any longer and I couldn't blame him. He truly was homesick, even if he would not admit it. I repaid him for his information and told him a little of Highever. He seemed more interested in talking about my formal attire and making lusty remarks than the actual history. That was fine with me. I wanted to avoid many memories of the actual place.
The conversation then turned to today's events. I switched my tone from friendly to authoritative as I divulged the details of the mission. When it came up to the Gauntlet however, my voice wavered. He noticed, but did not press. I collected myself and continued, avoiding all mentions of my father's image.
"One of the trials was having to fight against ourselves," I stated, trying to keep my voice level. "I wasn't prepared for anything like that."
"Yes, but it was quite obvious that what you were witnessing wasn't real," he imparted with a chuckle.
"I know it wasn't real, but… could you imagine having to kill someone you really cared about?" I asked him. I saw his eyes darken and he turned from me. He has so many layers and I don't know if I am getting to the core or just making more prop up. I frowned and looked up into the night sky. "I guess that's a stupid question, in your line of work. I just… everything about that place was unsettling."
The only spirit that I encountered in that battle was Alistair's. The way that the two of us sparred reminded me a lot of Fergus and I back at Highever. He had the upper hand many times, but I kept pressing on. I was able to overtake him and strike the final blow, but it was hard. When I pierced my sword in the spirit's barely corporeal matter, it was Alistair's grimace of pain I saw. The pallid matter dissipated and the actual man was standing next to me, asking me if I was hurt. I just shrugged him off and barked that we needed to get to the urn. All of the emotional energy was spent.
Zevran and I never fell back into easy conversation. It seemed that we both had too much on our minds. He suggested that I go and get some rest and I obliged. I bade him goodnight and returned to the canvas confines of my tent. I still couldn't sleep. I doubted that I would get any rest. The sun would be rising soon, anyhow. I picked up the flint and kindling from my bag and lit the candle in my lantern. I pulled out the ink, quill, and journal and opened to a fresh page.
Month: Molioris, Day 16
9:30 Dragon
I miss my family.
I stared down at the four words as the first tears made their way down my cheeks. I closed my eyes. I knew my father would not want to see me like this. He would be proud of what I was trying to accomplish… of what I was a part of.
But I will move on.
With that proclamation written in ink, I shut the journal, gathered the writing instruments, and placed them back in the bag. For the rest of the night, I just laid on my bed roll, thinking of my promise. I would no longer look back and think of what could have been. I was going to start anew, but still hold onto my past. I held the newly received amulet to my chest and let the last tears for my family fall.
The morning had started like any other. After going about my daily routine, Leliana and I got together a breakfast meal for the camp. I broke away only once to place a gift outside of Zevran's tent. It caught the eye of the bard, but she said nothing. During the night, I had remembered about the leather boots that I had pilfered from one of the huts in Haven. They seemed to be of great make and I hated to leave them in such an ominous setting. I was not sure of their origin, but I thought that it would show I enjoyed out conversation.
I did not see his reaction. I was too busy getting things together. But when he strode over to the fire for his meal, the boots were proudly worn. He shot me a smile as I handed him a small loaf of bread, one which I heartedly returned. Today truly seemed like it would be a better day.
"Morning, Alistair," I greeted warmly, as I sat down beside him. "How was your night?"
"Fine," he muttered, tearing off a piece of his bread and dipping it in the soup Leliana had prepared. I frowned at his tone. He was never that short with me. I know that I wasn't the best of company yesterday, but there was no reason to hold it against me.
"That's good?" I said questioningly, to which he just continued his meal.
He didn't even spare me a glance. None of my companions said anything for quite some time. Morrigan was the only member of the team not present. She enjoyed her space and ate most of her meals away from us. No one minded that she was absent. Yet at this one moment, I wished that she was present. Even if her remark was uncouth, it would have at least cut through the tension.
The silence droned on. The only noise was the fire crackling and slight noise of chewing. I looked up at Leliana and pleaded with my eyes for her to talk. I couldn't take the hush that had fallen over us. Before she could open her mouth, Zevran decided to take it upon himself to get the joviality back in the camp.
"You know Alistair," Zevran started as all of the attention turned to the elf. He grinned at the former templar, but Alistair would not bite and continued in his stoic state. "Antiva has a long tradition of royal bastards."
I knew that this conversation was not about to change anything. It would probably just make things worse. I shot Zevran a warning glare, telling him to back off and keep his mouth shut. Yet to my surprise, Alistair actually responded.
"You don't say?"
His tone was monotonous at best. I turned my attention to him as he continued to stare at the bread in his hands. He had set aside his empty bowl and seemed to be finished his meal. Even so, he didn't even spare Zevran a glance. That did not stop the Antivan from continuing.
"Oh, yes. They've led wars to claim the throne," he said, speaking in his normal, playful tone. Alistair paid him no heed. "Some of them have become kings. In fact, I'd say the current royal line in Antiva stems from bastard blood several times over."
"Well aren't you just chock full of useless trivia today," Alistair responded, standing from his seat near the fire. I reached out to grasp his hand and try to get his attention, but he quickly walked from the spot. He reached down and put the rest of his loaf back in his satchel. Even though he may have thought the conversation was over, Zevran would not take the hint.
"Sadly, whenever a royal bastard rears their head in public and declares themselves, it often goes poorly for them," the elf said listlessly with a shrug.
Surprising everyone in attendance, Alistair broke out of his lifelessness. He turned to the assassin with the smallest of smirks on his lips.
"Let me guess: they get assassinated?" he posed sardonically, lifting his bag onto his shoulder to take back to his tent. Zevran's own smirk grew at the attention that Alistair had now bestowed upon him.
"Only the very popular ones," Zevran replied with a wide grin.
"And the unpopular ones?" Alistair asked, even though from his tone, it didn't seem as if he truly cared. It didn't seem to matter to the Antivan.
"Well, they get by somehow, I'm sure," he said with a shrug.
But then, a gleam of mischievousness came to his eyes. His look became much more lascivious, but for once, it didn't seem to fluster his target. Alistair just stared at him, waiting for the Antivan to continue.
"There was one fellow who did quite well working as a prostitute based on his uncanny resemblance to the king," Zevran divulged. I looked away from the elf to see that Alistair didn't even flinch. I guess he knew something of that nature was coming, but his ears and cheeks stayed their normal hue. "Charged a fortune."
"Couldn't afford him, I take it?" Alistair mocked with a dry chuckle before turning away from us and heading to his tent. I frowned and rose to follow him.
"That cynicism will serve you well, my friend," Zevran called after him. Alistair stopped and looked back at us. "Hold onto it."
I caught his eye, but he quickly turned back around. I went to go after him, but Zevran grabbed my arm. He shook his head. I looked to Leliana and she wordlessly agreed. No one knew exactly what was going on in Alistair's mind, but everyone seemed to be in consensus that he needed his space. After Ostagar, Alistair had needed time to grieve for his fallen friends. The whole trip to Lothering was spent in uncomfortable silence between us. It was up to Morrigan and I to pass the time in discussion, which didn't always necessarily end well.
I figured that Alistair was just nervous about Eamon's health. Now that we had the ashes in our possession, it seemed like fate was on our side for the moment. Nevertheless, we had been gone quite some time. Maybe Alistair is just worried that we will be too late…
We packed up our campsite in record speed and set out away from Haven. The journey to Redcliffe Castle would take a few days. Luckily, the weather was quite favorable the first day and we were able to get a lot of mileage accomplished. I made idle chat with Wynne and Leliana during the trip as Alistair blazed a trail in front of the group and didn't look back. It just further cemented in my mind that he was troubled because of the Arl's heath. That and the fact that we had decided to take a short side trip, since it was along the way.
When we were traveling to Haven along the Imperial Highway, we met a merchant at Sulcher's Pass. He gave us a control rod for a golem that he had heard about in a town called Honnleath. Alistair informed me when we procured the rod that it was close to Redcliffe. It was then that we decided to visit the town as soon as the ashes were in our possession. Yet judging from Alistair's attitude, it seemed as if he thought we were just wasting time. I believed that it would not hurt spending one more day on the road and it was a viewpoint that was shared by many of my companions.
The party camped for the night only a few miles north of Honnleath. After a party meeting where we discussed the plan for the next few days, the whole congregation went their separate ways to set up accommodations for the night. At the nightly meal, I was quick to notice that a certain fellow Grey Warden was missing. I hoped that during the course of the meal, he would make an appearance, but it was not to be. Instead, I had to sit through Zevran and Leliana talk about intimate relations in Chantry life. I would have thought that the elf was only doing it to make me feel awkward, but it was honestly just who he was. This type of conversation was what was normal to him… that or he liked to see use all become uncomfortable because of his sexually witty words.
After cleaning up the campfire area and getting out of my armor for the night, I searched out my oddly quiet companion. While traveling today, it wasn't just I whom he hardly spoke a word to. Usually, he couldn't be kept quiet… even if it was just to bicker with Morrigan. Something was not right… this went passed just any concern for Eamon. He would have at least come and talked to me about it.
I spotted him near the wooded area flanking our campsite. His hair was slightly damp, obviously having just washed up in the small creek that ran near. The moonlight highlighted the planes of his face and my breath caught in my chest. Even in this brooding state that he had found himself in, he was truly a sight to behold. All of the playful thoughts that were circulating in my head dissipated when I remembered his attitude earlier. I stomped my way over to him before he could re-enter the clearing, tugging on his arm to turn him back around.
"I need to talk to you," I stated, pulling him back into the shadowy haven of the trees.
When we were yards away from any of our companions, I let go of my hold on him, turning to face him with an irritated look on my features. He was the one facet of this abysmal journey that I truly was thankful for. When he was upset, I was upset. Alistair looked down at me with the same indifferent look on his face that I had been accustomed to seeing all day.
"What about?" he asked flatly.
"Your attitude for one," I said with a forced chuckle. He looked away from me, but I would not be dismayed. "Stoicism and dullness might work for Sten, but it doesn't look good on you."
I thought that a comment like that would garner some type of response. Nope… He looked down at his feet, scuffing his boots in the soil. I tried to process what could have changed between the two of us. I knew that I was not the best of company yesterday, but it was not unlike his own behavior after Ostagar. If anyone could understand what I was going through, it would be him.
"Is something wrong?" I finally asked, sick of the awkward silence that had fallen between us.
"Why should anything be wrong?" he said with a shrug.
I cringed at his answer. Nothing bothered me more in conversations than answering a question with a question. It was an evasion technique that I learned quite well and had employed to the best of my abilities back at Highever. Double standard, I know… but it irked me beyond belief.
"You tell me," I murmured, seeking out his gaze. He sighed and paced slightly in front of me.
"I have just had a lot on my mind," he replied, waving his arms slightly to emphasize his point. Yet I wasn't buying it. If he had something that pressing on his mind, I think I would be the first to know. He didn't have any qualms about talking to me before. "I know you know how that feels."
"Are you sure that is all?" I asked as soon as he finished. "You know you can talk to me."
He didn't look swayed. The way he was looking at me… so distant. I gazed up at him and decided that I needed to use another tactic. I knew one that was a failsafe of mine with my father. I wondered if it could possibly work on Alistair. I figured anything was worth a try at this point. I let my face fall into mock sadness, puffing my lower lip out obscenely.
"Please?" I pouted, my tone muddled by the positioning of my lips.
I casually batted my eyes and swayed slightly on the balls of my feet. Luckily, my embarrassing tactic had the desired effect – he cracked a smile, something I had missed the whole day it had been gone. He chuckled, but I did not relent. I kept peering up at him in my pitiful state. I was ready to start the fake sobbing, when he finally decided to speak.
"If I tell you, will you promise never to use that face against me again?" he asked smiling. I sucked my lip back in and smiled myself.
"If you promise to answer truthfully," I said, happily gleaming up at him. He brought his hand up to brush back the few tendrils of hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. I leaned into his touch, loving the feel of his warm hands on my skin.
"I could never lie to you, Tess," he said tenderly. It was so tempting to reach up and pull him down to me. His lips looked so inviting. Yet his hand dropped back to his side before I could act on my intuition. His face took on a more serious façade. "Alright, I've been wondering about… well, about Zevran, really. It seems like the two of you have become quite… friendly."
I furrowed my brow and shook my head. What did he even mean: friendly? Besides the previous night, I had barely spent any time with the assassin. We had only talked a few times prior while traveling times and during our communal campfire discussions.
"You aren't jealous, are you?" I asked jokingly. He seemed to take my question seriously as his tone did not lighten.
"No, no. I'm not jealous. I'm just curious," he answered, a small frown making its way to his lips. "Maybe it's inappropriate of me to ask, but what are your intentions towards him? Is it very serious? If you'll tell me, that is…"
I broke out into forced laughter. He couldn't be serious. This was the reason he was so reserved all day. I still was in the dark about what he was referring to. Zevran's banter was always bawdy. I knew that Alistair was quite aware of that fact. The conversations that we had were not unlike ones that he had with every member of the group… even the matronly Wynne was subjected to his banter.
"Before I answer that, can I ask what exactly you are referring to?" I asked, genuinely baffled by his question. He took a deep breath before looking down away from me once more.
"Last night… I saw you two by th…"
"You were spying on me?" I interrupted loudly. His gaze returned to mine and he quickly tried to explain his actions.
"Not spying… not really. I awoke to the sound of laughter… your laughter, actually," he explained gently. I just nodded my head, knowing that there had to be more to it. "I was curious. I didn't hear much of what was said, but you two looked… well, quite close. I know that I have not been the best of company today, but… I'm just confused. I thought that you and I were… well, you know."
I chuckled under my breath. I looked up at the moon that was slightly concealed by clouds and the treetops. I was still new to relationships of any kind besides the familial sort. I had few friends that were not part of my family, whether by blood or lodging in the castle. On top of that, Alistair was genuinely the first person I had ever considered becoming affectionate with. Yet even though we both led sheltered lives, I at least had confidence in myself.
I knew Alistair had confidence in his abilities as a warrior and Grey Warden, but his inability to want to take initiative and even his behavior today showed the true problem in his character. He was scared of failing anyone. He didn't want to lead because others might be hurt or suffer under his command. He was quite malleable in many situations because he trusted in others more than his own feelings (as long as it didn't compromise his sense of duty). And tonight, he would rather think that I was looking for romantic companionship elsewhere then see what a wonderful and special person he was.
"We just talked, Alistair," I stated evenly, returning my gaze to his. "Nothing more."
He nodded his head, but didn't look fully convinced. He looked like a wounded puppy who was trying his best to hide his pain. I could still tell he was hurt.
"I just needed someone to talk to – someone to get my mind off of the day's events," I continued, reaching up to cup his face in my hands. He looked down at me with a slightly surprised expression, but I continued on. "If you want to know the truth, I was hoping that it was you who was on watch."
"Really?" he asked in a truly childlike tone, his whole face lighting up at my admission. The puppy's wound was on the mend. He coughed slightly and his features returned to his normal appearance. "I mean, really?"
"Yes, really," I said, patting him lightly on both cheeks before dropping my hands. I walked a few paces away and leaned against the nearest tree. "We didn't talk about much. Most of the discussion was about our homelands. I didn't even get to talk about what had been bothering me."
"You still want to talk about it?" he asked, coming to stand in front of me.
His face was thrown into shadow. The moon offered little light when shaded by the high branches of the tree we were under. Yet I could still see the man I was slowly but surely falling more and more for in all his glory. He was my light in all the darkness.
"I actually have gotten past it, but thanks for asking," I replied. He just nodded, his face falling once more. And just when things seemed to be going back to normal… "But I'd be willing to tell you, if you want to know."
"I don't want to pry into your personal affairs," he responded softly.
"Don't be like that," I stated immediately, pushing away from the tree and past him. I walked through the wooded area, the only noise the quiet sounds of the natural world and two pairs of boots on the cool earth.
"Like what?" Alistair asked, trying to catch up with my swift strides. I shook my head, exasperated that he needed to ask.
"Like doubting your self-worth… doubting what I think of you," I said in an irritated tone.
When I made it to the bank of the creek, I turned to face him. He came to stand only a few inches from me. Without the cover of the trees, the moonlight shone directly on us. I saw the tender concern in his eyes and I melted. I could never stay annoyed at him, not when he was like this. Our shared naivety made me feel comfortable, but at the same time, it could make things trying. We both were new to this mutual affection phenomenon and seemed to be treading on volatile emotions at every turn.
"I thought we already covered where I stand on that issue," I continued softly.
Our relationship was moving slowly, but it appeared like it was the best speed for us. The flirtation and romantic embraces… the moonlit talks and kisses. It was like a fairy tale to me at times. Alistair closed the distance between us, pulling me to him in a tender embrace. I buried my head into his tunic-clad chest, smiling at the warmth that was enclosing me. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
"Some refreshing doesn't hurt," he whispered mischievously.
I lifted my head and he swooped down to capture my lips in his. After weeks of practice, our kisses had become much more passionate. There was no awkwardness when our lips were pressed together anymore. There was no hesitation when his tongue sought to part my lips – no hesitation from me as I conceded. Sometimes it would start out chaste, but would slowly build to a roaring inferno of feeling. This kiss started just as passionate as it ended. After our past few days of fears and irritation, everything felt right once more.
We broke apart after a time, but the emotion did not die. I leaned against him once more and thought about the previous night. I had spoken with Zevran about things to distract me from my feelings and the dream that had plagued me. Now, it seemed like I had the chance to fully gain my absolution from the past.
"I dreamed of Highever," I said quietly, hoping that I was not confusing him with my sudden statement. I did not wait for an answer to my silent query. "It wasn't a dream, really. It was actually a memory from my past."
"Good memory?" he asked contentedly into my hair.
I pulled back from him so I could look into his eyes. Happiness was all I saw and I knew that I would find my salvation. If only I had come to him sooner… he will help me get past this, just as I have helped him.
"Yes… well, in a way," I replied, moving out of his loose hold to sit by the edge of the water.
He was quick to follow and I was not without his warm comfort for long. He sat flush against me, draping his arm over my shoulders to pull me to him. He found no resistance as I let myself fall against him.
"It was six years ago; a day that we had visitors from other settlements," I explained. "Arl Howe was there, but he and my father were good friends so his presence was not striking. It was the other guests."
"Let me guess: Loghain," Alistair imparted at the anomalous tone that ended my speech. I nodded, turning from the water to look into his moonlit irises.
"With Anora... and Calian," I said cautiously.
I was still unsure how to handle speaking of his deceased half-brother. I knew from what little he had spoken of the former king, that he and Calian had hardly ever seen each other. The longest they probably spent in each other's company was at Ostagar, and those were not the types of memories I wanted to dredge up between us.
"Six years… before they were coronated," he said calmly.
"Yes, but still just as daunting," I replied, remembering the day vividly, partially thanks to my bittersweet dream. "I was only twelve at the time and looked to Loghain as a masterful tactician – a person to truly aspire to be like. I saw him as the hero he truly was."
"He was a hero, but his tyrannical feelings of thinking he always knows what is best for Ferelden have led him to become the madman he is today," Alistair imparted. I chuckled at his rationalization.
"I am quite aware of that," I said with a grin. He just mockingly glowered at me. As soon as I began talking once more, the heartwarming smile returned to his face. "The first time I saw them I was dressed in my practice armor, still sweaty and muddled from a long session of training. One of my attendants had told me to dress properly before going to my father's study, but said nothing of visitors. I thought, 'My father has seen me in worse: who cares?' Boy, must I have looked the fool. Anora was wearing a beautiful crimson dress made of silk and lace and I…"
" – probably looked just as stunning in your armor," he interrupted tenderly. I shifted my weight against him in a makeshift nudge. He chuckled at my attempt, taking the opportunity to press me closer to his side.
"I was twelve, Alistair," I stated drolly, keenly remembering the difference in maturation and age between myself and the soon-to-be queen. "While she had already blossomed, I had not reached that time in my life yet."
"I still hold to my word," he attested valiantly. Yet before I could try and explain further, he shifted the conversation back to the actual memory. "So, you met Calian before he was king?"
"We hardly spoke. It was more of just an introduction," I explained. "My mother was still cross at me for the manner in which I presented myself. Made me get fully washed up, made up, and 'properly' dressed before I could get anywhere near the dining hall. My mother stationed an attendant outside of the door to inspect my attire before I was allowed to enter. Until I had on my frilliest, gaudiest dress, I was not allowed in. It was…"
Alistair had been slightly chuckling through much of my latest statement, but the laughter soon became too much for me to continue. I narrowed my eyes as he continued, unsure of what I said that spawned this kind of reaction.
"What are you laughing at?" I asked pointedly.
"Just trying to picture you in a big, frilly dress," he replied through chuckling. I shot him a perturbed look, but it did little to stifle his merriment. I decided it was best to ignore him and continue.
"Anyway, it was this hideous lavender monstrosity that had been sent from Orlais," I explained, happy that the further description seemed to get the attention of the former templar. I cringed as I remembered how it felt to be caged in that horrid dress. It was a gift from an Orlesian diplomat and thus I was forced to keep it. "It had these laces in the back that had to be tightened to the point of bodily harm to give my torso some sense of curvature. Throughout the whole dinner, I was scarcely breathing."
"So what is the chance that I will ever see you in such a dress?" Alistair whispered directly into my ear, in his best seductive tone. I threw my head back in laughter, before maneuvering myself so we were face to face. Our lips were only centimeters apart. It took all my strength not to lean forward to sample his taste.
"How about never?" I replied with a smile. "The only way you would be able to get me back in a torturous frock like that would be by royal decree."
"Don't put these ideas in my head, dear lady, for they may come back to haunt you," he replied jokingly. I brought my arms up and lightly encircled his neck. Our noses bumped together, our lips only a hair apart.
"I'll take my chances," I murmured before crashing my lips upon his.
Whenever we were in this state, I would become more aware of my entire body. Even though my entire focus should have been on our lips tangling, it was hard when there were other reactions that were overtaking me. Like his arms that were wound around my form, pressing our bodies so close that our heartbeats seemed to become one. The stubble on his chin grazed my skin. The light scratching was not irritating and a feeling that I had become accustomed to. It was just a reminder that this was actually happening… that I wasn't dreaming.