Prologue
Oberon stood, alone on the outskirts of camp. He studied the skyline, the pillars of smoke from distant towns, drifting skyward. He was worried about his friend, Alistair, who was gravely injured. His thoughts drifted towards his duties as a Grey Warden, he was honour bound to protect the innocent and ward off evil. Alistair knew how to make the task seem easy, he was always there with a witty quip and a grin which had always eased Oberon's grief, and now Alistair was back in camp fighting for his life, as Wynne tried her best to heal him.
In the circle tower he never experienced true friendship, Jowan had been someone to talk to but anything closer meant the Templars had something to use against you, and Oberon did not wish for that weakness. Yet here he stood, looking at the stars stitched into the purple night sky, and here he worried, for a friend he never expected to have.
"If you are worrying for him then 'tis a wasted effort, he will live." Morrigan had approached quietly from behind, a failed attempt at comforting you but one you appreciated.
"I worry slightly, Wynne should've healed him by now, we need to get going in all honesty, but we cannot do that with Alistair lying on his back." Oberon turned to face her.
"He has proved more useful lying on his back, I find that Dog is a suitable replacement." Morrigan looked over to camp where Dog was found to be running around with Alistair's helmet clamped between his teeth.
The Warden let out a quiet laugh. "What shall we do to pass the time?"
Morrigan took him by the arm, "'tis rather cold in my tent, maybe you could put your efforts into warming it up."
"Sounds more like a command than an offer." Oberon's eyebrows quirked up, a slight smile playing on his lips.
Morrigan planted a light kiss against his ear, followed by a whisper. "You wouldn't have it any other way."