"Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, and a thousand more..."
~ Catullus (84-54 BC) ~
Though Redcliffe is battered and weary in the wake of Connor's possession and subsequent invasion by the walking dead, Arl Eamon and Arlessa Isolde certainly know how to host a lively celebration, Alistair thought nursing a mug of ale.
Now that Connor was safely restored to his former self and his parents were coming to terms with the boy's new found mage powers, the villagers of Redcliffe had gratefully put together an impromptu feast to honor the Grey Wardens and their companions for saving everyone. Here in the village square, where only days before they had fended off hordes of walking corpses, tables were laden with simple but hearty fare spiced with the Arlessa's own secret Orlesian ingredients.
Alistair couldn't remember the last time he had eaten like this and had seconds and thirds of almost everything. It wasn't often he could feed his Grey Warden metabolism so well and he indulged to the fullest. He was very glad to be wearing a comfortable nobleman's outfit he'd found in his chamber instead of his usual ensemble…his gut was just a bit too full tonight for tight-fitting armor.
Wine and ale flowed freely. Much to his delight, cheese was also in abundance on the feast tables. Somewhere nearby Alistair could hear Leliana's dulcet tones singing the harmony to an old Orlesian tune with the band of minstrels who had been playing all night.
"Alistairrrr….there you are!" Oghren roared loudly, dodging and weaving his way through the crowd. Alistair's lips twitched with amusement as he noted the two large bottles of alcohol firmly grasped in his hands. The dwarf was most certainly in his cups already and the sun had barely gone down. "There ya are. I was lookin' for ya." Oghren said taking a pull from each of the bottles in his hands. "Needed to find ya. Have you seen the lass?"
"The lass?" Alistair repeated. "You mean, Brielle?"
"Aye…" the dwarf chuckled and drank some more. "that elven cur, the assassin, asked me awhile ago about her. I thought she might be with you but uh…well, she ain't here. It's a big party though. She'll turn up."
"Yes," Alistair nodded and started gazing the crowd for their leader's pale face or rich russet hair. After a few minutes of scanning to no avail, he narrowed his golden eyes and noticed Zevran staring straight back at him from across the festivities. His heart clenched in his chest for a moment as his possible romantic rival gave a mock salute and disappeared into the shadows. How does he do that? Alistair wondered.
Before he could consider the answer, the blond-haired elf in question dropped down silently in front of Alistair and Oghren from the porch roof above. "Ah, good evening my friends. Enjoying the rural entertainments?" Zevran drawled.
"I was before you just dropped out of the sky like a bloody cat," Alistair snapped, a bit rattled at the man's stealthy skills.
"Did ya find her?" Oghren grunted, unfazed by the elf's sudden appearance.
"Of course I did," Zevran replied, his usually serene eyes alight with concern.
"What's wrong?" Alistair asked.
"She is at the docks. I believe she wants to be alone right now. But I do not think she should be alone…." Zevran said taking the mug of ale out of Alistair's hand. He took a deep sip and waved the mug in the direction of the docks. "Go to her, Alistair. This is not my area of expertise."
"I thought all women were in your range of expertise," Oghren chuckled and slapped the elf on the back.
"Our lovely leader is already spoken for, I believe, and beyond my expertise…for now," Zevran quipped tightly, shielding his gaze from the templar. He didn't want to see the look of triumph on the man's face. "Come, dwarf. Let us go find some wenches to fill our cups…and our laps." On that note, Zevran lead a wobbly and laughing Oghren back into the crowd leaving Alistair alone to find his fellow Grey Warden.
He found her at the end of the farthest dock, overlooking Lake Calenhad. In the light of the full moon, she stood tall and slender, a solitary silhouette against the backdrop of dark mountains and the sound of gently lapping water. Torches lined the dock path atop pedestals and he walked towards her with a growing feeling of concern. She was standing so still. He was also caught off guard for a moment to see her wearing a dress, a noblewoman's gown in fact, in a watery blue color that hugged her petite curves and flared down to her feet.
He'd never seen her wearing anything but armor yet she looked just as good, as natural, and feminine wearing fine fabrics as she did bloodied rogue's leathers. And though pleased to see her glorious dark red hair unbound and hanging free in waves down her back, Alistair frowned as he approached. She wasn't moving. As he drew closer, he could see her arms were wrapped around her torso and her head was bowed down slightly.
"Go away," she sniffed and he stopped in mid-step "Maker's Breath, I just want to be left alone for one bloody m-minute of my life!"
Beyond Zevran's expertise indeed, Alistair mused. The elf hadn't wanted to betray her confidence aloud and had sent him to find her like this….crying alone in the dark.
Ignoring her command, Alistair stepped forward and slipped his arms around her, resting his chin on her head. He felt her tremble and he hugged her close, inhaling the freshly-washed flowery scent of her hair. "Bree, I understand if you don't want to talk about this…but I cannot leave you out here by yourself on these creepy docks. You do realize a whole bunch of enchanted, animated corpses were crawling all over this place just a few days ago?"
Brielle laughed and sniffed softly at the same time and he felt her relax a bit. "I didn't really think about that. I just needed to get away from everything…from everyone."
"I didn't see you at dinner...have you been out here this whole time?" he asked gently.
"Yes. I didn't want anyone to see me in this silly gown," she mumbled and he almost believed it. "Lady Isolde is having my armor "properly" cleaned and polished so she loaned me this...girly dress."
Alistair brushed aside her hair and placed his lips on the exposed, creamy skin of her neck. "It suits you. Though I know you didn't miss most of dinner fretting over how you look in a dress. You are too polite and well-bred for that. What is wrong?"
"Connor… said something earlier and reminded me…of someone tonight and something inside of me just snapped. It started small, the feeling of grief and loss, and the more I thought about it, the deeper I got sucked into it. I couldn't bear to look at that child's face another m-moment at dinner."
Alistair gently gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. She hid her gaze beneath her long, thick lashes and stared at his chest. Yet in the faint torch-light, he could see the agony and grief written in the tear tracks running down her face and his heart ached for her. She had never really talked about her life before she became a Grey Warden. In fact, he knew very little about the circumstances surrounding her being found by Duncan other than the fact the entire Cousland family had been betrayed and slaughtered by Arl Howe's men….except for her. Duncan had helped her escape from Highever and brought her to Ostagar where he had first met her.
"I've taken your generous nature for granted and I am ashamed," Alistair murmured and ran a callused thumb up her jaw line, wiping away tears. "Here you are, leading us back and forth across this surprisingly large country of ours, never complaining, always listening to me and everyone's problems, solving those problems, and helping the less fortunate people we encounter. But not once have I ever stopped and asked how you are doing. No one has."
"No," she said quickly and turned her head so that her lips grazed his palm. "I prefer it this way. It is simpler for me to focus on others."
Alistair's breath caught for moment as a frission of heat radiated from his hand where her lips had just touched. He looked down into her eyes, her entrancingly strange violet eyes, and felt his body temperature rise. Focus, man! his brain screamed.
"Who…does Connor remind you of?" he suddenly blurted out, needing to break the seductive spell before he got carried away.
Brielle's lower lip quivered at his question and she averted her gaze, desperate to hide the fresh tears that were forming. "M-my nephew. Oren," she finally whispered, wringing her hands together nervously. "Before dinner, at the head table, I was chatting politely with Connor. He is such an inquisitive boy….he asked such an innocent question: "What is your favorite book, my lady?" And it was like I was transported back in time, almost a year ago, my sweet little Oren, so intelligent and funny, had asked me the same thing at his birthday feast. My heart exploded in grief out of nowhere. I thought….I was fine."
The anguish in her voice was almost too much for him to bear and he swept her up in his arms. "Tell me how about that night, love," he encouraged gently, "What happened the night your family was murdered?"
And so she did. In a flat monotone voice, she detailed the events of that devastating day and night that surrounded the destruction of her entire family. Alistair's blood chilled when she spoke of finding her sister-in-law and nephew's bodies. His eyes welled with a few unshed tears as she told of her last moments with her dying father and devoted mother. Her brother Fergus had probably walked into a trap after leaving Highever before the attack and was presumed dead as well somewhere in the Korcari Wilds. He couldn't believe she had suffered this massive tragedy and was still a sane, level-headed person. And then to have the burden of the Grey Wardens placed upon her shoulders immediately after losing her entire family…he was in awe of her willpower.
"At times I feel dead on the inside. Like I am living without feeling anything…just going through the motions like I am in a dream. Other times I am so consumed with grief and rage I can't think or see straight. I know that I have a lot to live for, but the thing spurring me forward more than anything right now is revenge. Deep, dark, twisted, nasty revenge. I will kill Arl Howe and send his traitorous bastard soul to hell," Brielle finished tonelessly.
"I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
"Yes, I am sure you have some idea. You want to avenge Duncan and Cailan's deaths just as badly as I want to avenge my family."
"Then you know I will do anything in my power to help you avenge your family's murders. Arl Howe and Loghain will pay," Alistair said, running his fingers through her long, wavy hair.
"Alistair?" she asked.
"Yes, love?"
"I don't want to talk anymore. Just... kiss me."
"As you wish," he replied without argument as his mouth found hers. Her lips tasted of tears and sorrow and he wanted nothing more than to take the pain away. He kissed her deeply and tangled his fingers in her hair. Brielle's arms wrapped around his neck and she responded to his kiss with a fierce heat, her mouth hungry and challenging his to a duel of passionate need.
Thus entangled and enraptured with one another, they failed to hear the person at the end of the docks come upon them with a few discreet "ahems." When that didn't work, the person stomped a stern foot two times that surprised both of the lovers and broke them apart suddenly.
"Are you done devouring each other?" Wynne asked with a twinkle of mischief in her wizened eyes.
"Wynne!" Alistair gasped. "Maker above woman, don't do that again! I nearly died of shock!"
The mage lifted a brow and smiled sweetly, "As did I when I first came upon you two…writhing on each other."
Alistair felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears and he heard Brielle giggle nervously behind him. "We uh…Bree was umm…upset and I came out here to make sure she was alright," he said and it sounded lame to his own ears.
"Hmm…what an interesting comforting tactic you have," Wynne commented dryly.
"Yes….er…" he stammered. "Um….did you need something?"
"Arl Eamon is looking for you both. He sent me to fetch you in. The festivities may well last awhile into the night but he needs to speak to you about our next move."
Brielle cleared her throat and anxiously wiped the remaining wetness from her cheeks. She felt flush with desire and could taste Alistair on her kiss-swollen lips. She needed time to gain her famously steely composure. "Thank you, Wynne, for coming all the way out here. I shall go on up to the castle presently. I need to freshen up in my room before we meet the Arl. I'll see you both up there," she intoned hastily and brushed past Alistair, her footfalls barely making a sound as she ran down the dock. Alistair watched her go with a wistful smile.
"She was crying," Wynne stated and it irked Alistair that she said it with such confidence, like she knew all the secrets in the world.
"Umm…how do you know that? Can you see in the dark?" he mumbled, walking towards the elder mage.
Wynne smiled and simply said, "It has been building up inside of her since I first met her at Ostagar. I was expecting it sooner actually."
Alistair narrowed his eyes as she joined in step with her, walking back towards the rowdy sounds of the party. "What do you mean?"
"Despite the carefully crafted façade Brielle has adopted as the leader of our rag-tag band, occasionally those old wounds resurface. Watch her carefully the next time we battle against Darkspawn and you will see it. Her rage is quite magnificent."
"She lost everything...and she has never said anything about it before. I hadn't realized how skilled she is at hiding herself, her real self, from me," Alistair mused.
"Hiding herself? Isn't that what good rogues do?" Wynne said raising a silvered brow.
"Ha," Alistair smirked. "You know what I mean."
"Indeed. Though she is tough and cunning and brave, she is young, Alistair, younger than you and in some ways, much more sheltered than even you were. The life of a high-born noblewoman is a very confining cage. She probably possesses many skill sets that will surprise you."
Alistair scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed, "Do you think there is anything I can do to make her feel better?"
Wynne came to a halt on the outskirts of the celebrations, watching with amused eyes as Zevran and Oghren danced sloppily on unsteady feet with serving wenches from the castle. She pondered Alistair's question for a moment and finally cast him a side glance, "Just love her. Continue traveling down this dark path with her, supporting her and fighting by her side, and seize those moments of love and laughter when you can. And in our travels, if you find the right merchant, I recommend you buy her a tin of chamomile tea."
"Tea?" Alistair chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not flowers or chocolates or fancy silks from Orlais?"
"Eleanor Cousland was famously stringent about observing afternoon tea with her family nearly every day. Irving often sent the Couslands boxes of his own special blends of tea for Wintertide. Brielle asked me recently if I had any tea in my traveling sack. She asked specifically for chamomile. Perhaps Lady Isolde has some in her pantry."
"I will ask her. Thank you, Wynne," Alistair grinned. "You always seem to have the answers to all my questions. It is rather amazing."
"You don't live to be my age without learning a thing or two," Wynne demurred. "Now shoo. The Arl and Bann Teagan are waiting for you in the Grand Hall."
Alistair grabbed her hand and bowed low, placing an over-exaggerated kiss on her knuckles. "As my wise lady mage commands, I shall go."
Wynne chuckled at his silly gesture but felt a faint blush creep into her aged cheeks. It had been a long time since anyone had teased her or treated her with such casual deference.
"Yes, please do," she smirked as he released her hand. With a wink, Alistair turned and walked with a renewed bounce in his step up the path to Redcliffe Castle.
- Finis-