A/N: I got the idea for this little fluff piece because I'm a late bloomer and I'm just now playing Dragon Age: Origins. The more I thought about it, the more the ideas flowed. I hope you enjoy it, and don't forget to R&R!
-LCB
The stakes were high, possibly higher than any The Warden had encountered before. The die had been cast. The deed was done. All that was left to do was throw everything he had into the task before him and hope he came out on top.
For the sake of Ferelden.
Or, at least, for the sake of his own pride.
Alistair clenched his jaw tight as a smirk formed. He felt this was truly something he was bred for. This was a challenge he was more than ready to face with his friends by his side. He never intended for a single second to let them down.
He would give them a good show alright.
The two men sat down opposite each other at a long table within the Gnawed Noble Tavern in Denerim. Alistair stared ahead at his friend and fellow Grey Warden, ready to begin this battle that he was sure neither would soon forget.
"Are you sure about this?" He asked. "If this is too great a task, I won't hold a retreat against you."
The Warden set his staff to the side, letting it lean against the table. He nodded resolutely, before a playful smile crept across his face.
"Not only am I sure about this, my dear Alistair, I am also certain of victory."
The Warden tossed his money pouch onto the table, shooting his friend a challenging look.
"At least, certain of my own victory."
The crowd of gatherers around both men erupted into cheers. The hall filled to the brim with their jubilant shouts, seemingly shaking the very ground they all stood on. Alistair jumped slightly at the sudden burst of noise. He smiled crookedly at all those around them who had come to watch this contest.
Truly, this would be a special night indeed.
"You're on, then, oh fearless leader," Alistair replied.
He pulled his own money pouch out, casually tossing it up and down, devilishly grinning.
"I just happen to have a stash of Sovereigns I put away for a rainy day. Tonight, it rains ale!"
He tossed his pouch in and turned where he sat.
"Barkeep! Six pints each! Let us begin this first round of battle!"
The cheers erupted again. The Warden couldn't help but smile himself, but much more reservedly than his companion. There had been so much weighing on his mind of late. He knew those burdens were also shared among the others. They had finally freed The Circle of Magi from the sinister grips of Uldred and his abominations and, in turn, also freed Arl Eamon's son, Connor, from the grip of his own demon.
The Warden knew that soon they would all set off on a long journey to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes that would perhaps cure the Arl. So, for the moment, for the night, he would orchestrate this night of revelry for the people of Denerim and the people traveling in his company. Everyone was entitled to a few moments of happiness in their lives.
But most of all, The Warden had put this night together for Alistair. His reunion with his sister, Goldanna, was….chilling….to put it lightly. The Warden had fought alongside Alistair for so long now and had come to trust him with his life. This was the least he could do to help cheer him up.
A tray laden with twelve pints of ale smacked down upon the table, waking The Warden from his musings. It was accompanied by more cheers as Alistair excitedly separated the ales, putting half on The Warden's side of the table and the other half on his side.
"I'll be a Darkspawn-lover before I let another man drink me under the table, old friend!"
While that was going on, The Warden looked over to the main bar, spotting some of his companions.
Sten and Wynne were engaged in conversation, their attentions not turned toward the contest. Strange, The Warden thought. After weeks of travel and combat, he had just recently coaxed the Qunari into saying more than four words. What could he and an old mage have in common?
Morrigan looked completely and utterly uninterested in the entire ordeal. Instead, her focus was on her fingernails, as if some hint of filth was not coming out of them properly.
The Warden's gaze then fell on Leliana, who had her own drink in her hand and was talking Morrigan's ear off about something or other while the witch ignored her. It was probably something about shoes or clothes or the fine lands of Orlais, The Warden guessed. Leliana's eyes turned and met his. She smiled that beautiful smile at him and waved her other hand.
The Warden quickly cleared his throat, nodded and smiled back.
A clap on his shoulder brought him back to the tavern.
"Pardon me, my friends, but shall we make this competition a bit more….interesting?"
The Warden turned to find a face bookended by pointed ears and framed by flowing white hair.
So that's where Zevran went.
"More interesting?" Alistair blurted indignantly. "What do you mean, more interesting?"
The elf merely smiled and placed both hands on the table, addressing both Wardens.
"I mean, let us cook some spice into this! If I may, allow me to judge this contest with Antivan drinking rules."
The Warden cocked an eyebrow. "Antivan drinking rules? What do those entail, exactly?"
Alistair snorted. "We probably have to take a drink then try to stab each other. Drink, stab, drink, stab, until we're both bleeding out on the floor. Or do you assassins prefer to beat each other with blunted objects after you drink?"
The Warden fought hard to suppress a grin, not succeeding. Zevran shot Alistair a vexed look but he knew how to ever-so-slightly manipulate the more stubborn Warden.
"I apologize, Alistair. My mistake." Zevran gave a bow of his head that was both apologetic and patronizing. "I was not aware that Fereldans feared a contest that they cannot win."
Before The Warden could assure Alistair that the elf was egging him on, Alistair slammed an armored hand on the table with a loud bang.
"We Fereldans fear nothing! Am I right?"
After he yelled the question, the Fereldans all around Alistair burst into affirmative cheers. Alistair turned back to Zevran, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
"Bring it on, pointy-ears."
Zevran smiled. The Warden didn't know whether to be entertained or afraid.
"Very well then, good gentlemen of Ferelden. The rules of the first round of drinks are simple. You each have to turn those six pints into empty mugs. Whoever downs the last drop before the other is awarded the first point."
"Easy!" Alistair shouted, gripping the glass handle of his first mug. The Warden fixed his friend with a more-than-ready smile, grabbing his own mug, at the ready.
Zevran, in true showman style, thrust both arms into the air, addressing the hall.
"Sons and daughters of Ferelden, here sit your champions! Grey Warden against Grey Warden! Let this contest…..BEGIN!"
Mugs were quickly tipped back and whoops and hollers burst forth from the crowd, cheering their favorite Warden on.
/
The Warden smacked his final mug down, only to find Alistair slowly shaking his head, arms crossed over his Templar chest plate. All the people on his side of the table cheered.
"Alistair has won the race! A point to him!"
Zevran's shout was accompanied by more cheers. Alistair scoffed playfully.
"Whenever you're ready to surrender, I will be a gracious victor."
The Warden would have none of that.
"The war is far from over, Alistair! Zevran, announce the next round!"
Zevran clapped The Warden's back again. "The battle is far from over, indeed! As we do in Antiva, things, ah, how you say, heat up, in the second round. The first round was a test of your speed and endurance. The both of you are feelings some of the effects now, yes?"
Alistair never dropped his crossed arms. "I don't feel a thing!"
To say that The Warden felt nothing would be a lie. That much alcohol in that short of time had his head temporarily swimming. Whether Alistair truly felt anything or not, he was playing a good poker face.
"Neither am I!" The Warden stated evenly.
"Excellent! I will need two new pints of ale for each of these gentlemen!"
As the pints were brought, Alistair fixed the elf with a quizzical look.
"Just two? Come on, Zevran. Don't Antivans have stronger stomachs than this?"
"Ahh, but it is not a test of stomachs. It is a test of balance."
"Balance?" The Warden asked, genuinely curious as to where the contest was now going. "What are we balancing?"
Zevran picked up one glass and placed it right on top of The Warden's head. "One pint you balance on the top of your head. The other, you drink. The one who spills the glass on their head is the loser. Get ready!"
Alistair's mouth hung agape for a moment. He could not believe what this elf was having them do but he wasn't going to shy away from the challenge now. Both Wardens placed a mug on their head and very delicately took the other in-hand.
"Begin!"
Cheers burst forth again and The Warden grinned slyly at his friend. This was where he would excel, he knew it. All those balance exercises the Enchanters beat into him at a young age. In order to teach apprentices how magical energy was concentrated and accessed through the entire balance of the body, through the very breath they inhaled, they were instructed to balance piles of books on their heads while walking through the library.
The Warden smiled at the memory as he easily guided the mug to his mouth, the mug on his head not spilling so much as a drop.
Alistair, on the other hand, was having quite a bit of trouble with the exercise. He was wearing heavy armor, after all, so his movements were much more confined as opposed to The Warden's Mage robes. It didn't even take a minute for the mug on his head to tumble to the floor, showering several unlucky onlookers with alcohol.
"Alistair's glass has fallen! A point goes across the table! The victor may set both glasses down and give them to his opponent."
The Warden gladly obliged, sliding all three glasses over to Alistair. Zevran nearly cackled.
"It falls to the loser to drink all three of those mugs in one minute's time! Help him out, Fereldans!"
Hands reached out from the crowd behind Alistair, forcing the mugs up and into his mouth as he quickly tried to down them all.
/
"Must we dedicate every coin we possess to this exaggerated display of the male ego?"
Morrigan looked on at the contest with clear contempt. She looked at such antics as beneath her and beneath the man whom they all followed, or so she had thought. This was right up Alistair's alley, though.
It was just her and Leliana left watching the show. The others had returned to camp for the night. Honestly, Morrigan was surprised she still remained. The one good effect of the competition was that it got the Chantry girl to shut up about shoes and Orlesian flowers. The crowd's shouts also drowned her out whenever she tried to resume such discussion.
In that sense, Morrigan supposed she owed this collective stupidity. She sighed and brought a hand to her forehead, closing her eyes behind it.
"I find it so reassuring that the man we follow is prepared to drink the Darkspawn threat away."
Leliana smiled, giggling every now and then as she watched The Warden and Alistair. Zevran was now forcing them to try pouring two mugs' worth of ale into their mouths at the same time. To what end, she did not know. Maybe the person who had the least amount of ale under their chair at the end would win.
"It's all in good fun, Morrigan! You may not believe it, but I know he's doing this to try to relax us."
They all needed it in their own ways, she thought to herself. For her own part, she was happy to watch such good fun after her recent encounter with Marjolaine.
"We get such few opportunities for a little healthy frivolity, don't you agree?" Leliana turned to Morrigan, smiling.
The witch scoffed, putting an end to her leaning against the bar.
"If I'm going to spend this evening in frivolity, I may as well take Halleth for a walk. I think even a Mabari would make better company than this host of fools."
Leliana giggled. "Perhaps he will bring you another hare for your undergarments!"
Morrigan huffed frustratingly before departing the tavern. Leliana watched her go, disappointed that she did not come around yet thankful that at least she took her hardened attitude away from the merriment.
Leliana took this opportunity to take her drink and walk closer to the crowd. She leaned against a post inside the tavern, where she would have a clear view of The Warden and Alistair as they continued their battle.
She couldn't help but admire the way The Warden's face shone during all the whoops and cheers. His face was already handsome, chiseled and covered with a well-kept black fuzz of facial hair. Weeks ago they had shared a talk in camp about how he needed to smile more. Sure enough, he was even more handsome when he smiled. His hazel eyes seemed to shine brighter. Even his skin glowed when he smiled.
/
"Alistair….I am so sorry. I should have listened to you." The Warden slurred out, gripping the side of the main bar for support.
"Listen **hic** to me? About what?" Alistair teetered slightly where he stood.
"I should have….killed that blasted elf on the way here when I had the chance," The Warden managed to get out. Longer sentences were becoming harder to form. It was almost like someone was stuffing his lips and tongue with rocks.
"I do believe he's trying to kill us."
"I **hic** told you that before," Alistair said. "But NOOOOOOOOOO, you had to be all 'Oh no, Alistair, we could use him!'"
Alistair held up air quotes and stumbled once to the side.
"'He could come in handy, Alistair! You're talking crazy-talk, Alistair! Go gather the firewood, Alistair! Help me bury this bone, ALISTAIR!'"
The Warden blinked. "I never buried a bone."
Alistair shut his eyes tightly. "Oh yeah….that was the dog. Well sometimes I get you two mixed up anyway!"
The Warden arched an eyebrow, but that gave him a headache. He shook his head once.
"Wha-…..I'm not a dog! Why would you think I'm a dog? You're a dog!"
Alistair pointed a finger at his companion. "Hey….that is uncalled for."
Alistair slinked his arm around The Warden's shoulders, pulling him in, speaking conspiratorially.
"C'mon, you know what I mean, you dog. I know you're nearly gone. You're just putting on a show for your biggest fan over there."
The Warden followed Alistair's finger to Leliana on the other side of the gathered crowd. The girl smiled again and blew The Warden a kiss for luck. His eyes shot wide and he pushed away from his friend.
"Wha-…you mean Leliana? Oh…come off it, Alistair. Me and her? How could you….I mean….where do you get off….we have a very important mission and I….shut up!"
Alistair guffawed drunkenly and started yelling in a sing-song voice, dancing around The Warden.
"Nicolae and Lily-Anna sittin' in a tree! K-I-S….uh….um…."
Alistair placed a hand to his forehead, shutting his eyes tight.
"Oh, bollocks. OK…there's two S's, right? Did I already use the first one?"
It was The Warden's turn to laugh. "The Great Grey Warden Alistair, beaten by spelling!"
"Hey…shut up!" Alistair shouted. "I'll show you who can't spell!"
He reached for his friend but ended up colliding with the bar, his heavy armor working with gravity to bring him down. The crowd exploded into laughs and jeers. Just when The Warden believed he had this contest wrapped up, Alistair demanded that someone help him up.
Once back on his feet, Alistair didn't have time to get another word out before Zevran was pushing a mug into each Warden's hand.
"Time for Round 5, gentlemen! The question is, can you drink as one?"
Zevran then twisted both Wardens' drinking arms around each other until they were hooked together in a lock in front of their faces. They still held their beers in front of them, but now their motions would pull on each other.
Nonetheless, both gave it their shots. Ale splashed on both of them as they tried to tip their glasses higher to get to the last of the ale. The both of them ended up on the ground.
/
"Nicolae…this madhnessh needsh to shtop. Jusht….shurrender alreadeh."
Alistair stared blankly ahead at the Warden, back at the long table. He was supporting his head in one hand, his elbow on the table. Even that was a struggle, as his leaning arm trembled every now and then.
"I goht a bettah ideah….why dhon't yooouuuu shurrendah?"
The Warden willed every last bit of resolve to staying conscious. He could feel it. The world was spinning. Colors and shapes were melting together, forcing him to blink every now and then to clear his vision. Alistair was right about this contest devolving into madness.
Then again, The Warden never saw the atrocities of an Antivan drinking game coming.
In the past couple of hours, they had shot mug after mug back, balanced them on their heads, walked across the table while balancing them on their heads, poured two mugs into their mouths at the same time, and Maker only knew what else.
"No, I has to be shtrong." Alistair stated, before his face took on a sullen quality. "If my own shistah is shamed to knowh meee, then I hahve ta showh shtrength here."
The Warden slapped a palm on the table, jolting the drunken Alistair.
"Hey! Yoooouuu dohn't need her, Alis….Alice….Alistairs. You goht ush nowh. You are a great guy! Any shistah wouldh be luckee to has yooouu!"
Alistair's eyes glistened. He was filled with emotion….or was that ale?
"You're right. I knowh yooou areh. You're mah familyh nowh!"
He slinked his arm around The Warden's shoulders again, addressing the crowd around them.
"You hearh meee? I LOVE THISH MANH! HE'S MAH BROTHAH!"
Alistair lost his balance and slid off his chair, taking The Warden down with him. As both their heads collided with hard floor, the last thing The Warden heard was muffled shouts before everything faded to black.
/
"Urrggghhhh. I feel like an Ogre's been using me for a club."
"Yep…that sums it up. Me too."
"Well, the both of you have earned it!"
The Warden and Alistair sat on a long log by the fire of the camp, cold ice packs pressed to their heads. They were reaping what they sowed from every last sip of alcohol.
The Warden had to admit that even while working through the murk of an alcoholic haze, the glowing embers of the fire were still a soothing sight to see.
Wynne stood in front of the both of them, hands on her hips, old eyes peering down upon them, judging them. They felt it. The heat from her gaze was nearly as intense as that from the fire.
"So tell us, my dear Wynne, what magical concoction have you placed in our cold packs?" Alistair asked, pleading in a joking manner. "Will it help our burning skulls win the day?"
"It's frozen water from the river," Wynne stated curtly. "Magic will not be used to cure the self-inflicted pain of fools."
She dusted her hands off before placing them squarely back on her hips. "If you're going to throw away your senses with alcohol, then you'll suffer for it just like everyone else."
"You want to know my favorite thing about you, Wynne? Your bedside manners." Alistair quipped.
The Warden couldn't stop the smile, just as he couldn't stop his curiosity. "It would be easier on our pain if we found out who even won the contest. Where's that damned elf who tried to poison us?"
"Zevran? He's out hunting. It's nearly dawn and time for breakfast. You two have been napping for hours."
Alistair cringed. "Usually when I nap, I wake up with a nice, fuzzy, happy feeling. I don't know what to call what I woke up from, feeling like this."
"The both of you are lucky your bodies had the good sense to pass out before you drank yourselves to death!"
The Warden blinked a few times, looked up at Wynne and smiled. "Thank you for the packs, Wynne, and the advice. We shall heed your words for next time."
"Yes, Mummy, we certainly will," Alistair interjected. "Now, can I go play with my friends?"
The Warden caught the faint creeping of a smile on the edges of her lips.
"I suggest the both of you take to your tents. We'll all be stirring soon and our Wardens should be fresh and ready for the day's journey. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go try to wash the wet dog smell out of my tent….again."
With that, she walked back to her own tent. The two Wardens sat in silence for a time, gazing into the fire. Alistair broke the silence.
"By the Maker, did I really say that I loved you?"
The Warden chuckled. "Yes. You pretty much yelled it."
Alistair sighed dramatically. "Wonderful! Now word will spread far and wide across camp of our forbidden romance!"
"Good," The Warden replied. "Then maybe Zevran will stop making advances on me."
The both of them heard a woman clearing her throat off to the left, and The Warden cringed inwardly, knowing instantly who it was.
"Oh Spawn Spit….hello, Morrigan."
"Come to turn us into toads now?" Alistair asked.
She practically stomped over in front of them, her leer just as if not more intense than Wynne's. Alistair mused inside his head how she truly looked like a demon, standing there, glowing orange with the fire at her back.
"Might I be so blunt as to inquire whether or not these sorts of events will happen every time we arrive at a new town? "
Alistair touched his armored hand to his chin thoughtfully. "You know, that's actually not a bad idea. We could call it the Ferelden Drinking Tour! Now, who would sponsor us?"
The Warden laughed, elbowing him in the ribs. "We'll be a team! I can make our costumes!"
Morrigan huffed. "I fail to see how drinking yourselves to submission is going to help you when you confront Flemmeth."
The Warden held up a hand. "One companion's personal problems at a time, Morrigan. I know how much you want us to kill your mother and all. We'll get there."
"Yes, we'll get right on that," Alistair continued. "Think of the Sovereigns you'll save on family gifts and travel with her out of the picture!"
Morrigan crossed her arms in front of her chest, standing before both men. Her patience for their antics had come to an end. She had already had to witness their tomfoolery at the tavern. She didn't need to see anymore here at camp.
"I will be in my tent when one of you is ready to realize his responsibility as a Grey Warden. Until then, I hope both your skulls crack open from pain."
She turned on a heel and stomped away. Alistair chuckled, nudging his friend.
"By 'one of us,' I know she means you. She can't stand to be around me."
"You think I can stand to be around her all the time?" The Warden countered. "I swear, it's like every decision I make around her is the wrong one! If it were up to her, The Circle of Magi would be annulled and every innocent being would be left to their deaths in the streets!"
"Ahhhh, music to her ears," Alistair wistfully exclaimed.
Both Wardens fell silent again. Alistair looked into the fire, lost in thought. Concern spread across his face before he turned to The Warden.
"You don't think they're right, do you? Wynne and Morrigan? Maybe….maybe they are. Maybe we're not acting like we should be."
The Warden turned to face his friend on the log. He could see the small bit of conflict growing in his eyes.
"We are, after all, the last two living Grey Wardens in Ferelden, thanks to Loghain. Maybe we shouldn't have acted so carelessly."
The Warden arched an eyebrow and then placed a comforting hand on Alistair's shoulder. They must have been out all night. Alistair's armor felt damp with morning dew.
"I would not call our most recent misadventures careless at all, Alistair. We all needed to blow off some steam. I wanted us to have some fun for a change. We've all gone through so much, you with Goldanna, Leliana with Marjolaine, Zevran facing the death threats of the Crows, Sten losing his beloved sword. Maker, even Morrigan must be going through SOME trepidation at the thought of killing her own mother."
Alistair nodded, his eyes staring into those of his friend. "Not to mention you and Wynne facing the near-extinction of your home in the Circle."
The Warden nodded. "Also not to mention the entire Blight at our backs. Irving taught me a lot of things in the tower when I was growing up. One of those was that, sometimes, a little well-placed merriment can be just as crucial in battle as the most well-strategized tactic."
The Warden withdrew his hand, clapping his friend once on the armored back, immediately regretting such a decision.
"Ow."
Alistair chuckled and shook his friend's shoulders. "You're right. That sounds quite sensible, in fact. I will enjoy it all the more, then, when you seek your attempted rematch."
The Warden scoffed. "Why would I seek a rematch when I won?"
Alistair turned full-force to face his friend. "You most certainly did not! I remember watching you drop to the ground long before I did!"
The Warden laughed condescendingly. "Oh really? Your memory serves you so well? Was that before or after you were dancing on the tables with that bucket on your head?"
"Hey! That dance was just for you," Alistair exclaimed, pretending to be hurt. "That never leaves this camp. At any rate, who are you to talk? In all my years as a Templar, the image that will forever stand out in my mind the most is that of a grown mage having a conversation with a vase, like it was a person! Then you knocked it over and shattered it!"
He points an accusatory finger. "You're a right bloody murderer, you are."
"That almost got us thrown out. The bartender was furious."
Both Wardens turned to face the newest female voice to reach their ears. Leliana stood facing them both, smiling down on them. The Warden smiled as well, but also retreated slightly into himself on the log.
"Oh…you saw that, Leliana? Um…erm…"
The Warden cleared his throat. "I can explain that. You see, Zevran spiked our ale with something and…uh…"
Alistair, seeing a chance to be his friend's wingman, smiled and chimed in.
"That's exactly right. Some sort of blasted Antivan hallucinogen. Our good friend here is a true gentlemen who would never commit such atrocities against pottery under any other circumstances."
That drew a giggling laugh from Leliana. The Warden sighed, facing Alistair with a grateful look. His fellow Grey Warden only smiled and nodded back.
"Anyway, Alistair, I hope you don't mind if I borrow our leader for a moment."
The Warden's eyebrows rose curiously. He never saw Alistair's sinister "I told you so" look.
"But of course I don't mind. You kids have fun now!"
He clapped The Warden hard on the back, nearly knocking him off the log. As it was, The Warden stood up and walked with Leliana away toward the center of the camp.
Alistair readjusted the cold pack on his head, smiling at the sight. He wished those two would stop messing around and just get together already. It was only the hottest gossip around camp. Everyone needed someone in this world. Alistair knew his friend was shouldering so much weight, though he never showed it.
Bodahn Feddic walked up behind Alistair, also transfixed by the two.
"Three Sovereigns says the boy finally gets a kiss tonight."
Alistair chuckled. "You know, it could just be the hangover talking, but I'll take that action. I love the man and all that, but he's a chicken with the ladies."
Sandal only tilted his head, watching the two.
"Enchantment?"
/
The two came to a stop in the middle of the camp, between the tents by the fire and Morrigan's tent, far enough away from the ears of everyone else. The moon was still claiming dominance in the skies, but the Warden could tell by its position that the light of day would be restored in a matter of hours. He was thankful for the way the moonlight shone in Leliana's face. Her beautiful blue eyes stood out even more as the light played across her pale skin and red hair.
"I didn't expect you to still be up," The Warden led off with. An innocent enough question, right?
Leliana smiled. "Someone had to help you and Alistair back to camp. It took me and another villager to drag you back here. It took four villagers for Alistair in all that armor."
The Warden suddenly felt quite embarrassed. "Oh….you….carried me back? I…I am sorry for that."
Leliana laughed softly. "I'm not. It was a very enjoyable evening. Don't worry. I slept some while the both of you were still out. I imagine I'll sleep more before dawn comes, but I wanted to ask you something out of earshot of the others."
Out of earshot of the others? The Warden caught himself gulping. Why was this moment making him so on-edge? For Maker's sake, how many Darkspawn and abominations had fallen at his hands? The hordes of darkness, he had no problem with. Standing under the moonlight alone with Leliana, that was a much steeper challenge, apparently.
"Well then, what would you like to discuss?"
Leliane smiled, taking a step toward her leader. "That song Alistair was singing back in the tavern, about you and I….kissing in trees."
Now The Warden remembered. He had a sudden urge to throw Alistair onto the campfire.
"Oh…yes…that. Well, **ahem** you know, Alistair had a lot to drink by that time, so, you know, you can't take anything he says seriously."
Leliana laughed louder, placing a hand on The Warden's robed chest, stopping him. The Warden did indeed freeze. He felt a strange buzzing where she was touching him. Warmth was spreading across his body from that spot.
Leliana shook her head slightly. He truly was cute when he was embarrassed. This man who displayed such strength, such confidence, such fearlessness, looked frightened beyond help. Perhaps the Maker's guidance and her own female intuition were pointing her down the right path, after all.
She also couldn't help but admire the way the moon brightened up his face. In its pale light, the faint tattoos forming black flames around his eyes and cheeks stood truly beautiful in her eyes.
"I would argue with that," she said softly, playfully. "You forget my years as a bard. I have seen many a man succumb to drink, and it is in those moments when they become their most truthful."
She pulled her hand back and smiled, as did The Warden. He even found himself missing the warmth of that touch.
"So whenever you're ready to discuss it in more detail, Nicolae, you needn't fear so much."
She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. The Warden's eyes shot open, keeping their shock when she pulled back.
She giggled upon seeing his reaction. "When that time comes, I think you'll find that you never had a reason to be afraid after all. Good night, Grey Warden."
Leliana smiled one last time before turning and departing for her tent. The Warden watched her go, bringing a hand up to touch the spot where she kissed him.
Now, he could place a finger on this feeling, the warmth from her touch that spread throughout his body.
It was the same warmth he felt whenever he called upon the power of his magic to slay his enemies….and protect those whom he loved.
/
"Pay up." Bodahn demanded.
"That doesn't count!" shouted Alistair.