Chapter 2

They were standing on a staircase, and she seemed to be gripping a balustrade as if her life depended on it, her fingers digging into the stone, her head almost hanging over it. She was incredibly dizzy, her stomach was lurching and she was certain she was going to be sick.

"Now, you must know that we are both very intoxicated…" He said calmly from behind her, his arms were around her shoulders steadying her.

"I think I'm going to throw up…" She said weakly, her pulse fluttered as she dry heaved.

"No, I don't think so," he said "it is just a momentary attack of vertigo… It will pass, but as I said, we are both very…"

"But I don't recall…" She interrupted.

"Such tends to be the nature of intoxication." He gave her a moment, "Now," he said again, "We are on a staircase and we're going up to my room…"

The staircase seemed to be made of marble. Fine white polished marble. With blue veins like a cheese she had once eaten in Orlais... She began to feel sick again. "Ugh…" She said clutching her stomach and straightening up, his arms moved around her waist so she didn't topple, "Where did you say…"

"On a staircase. On the way to my room."

"Do I…"

"Yes, yes you do. Very much so. We like each other very much… We are extremely compatible." His voice was firm leaving no room for doubt, not even the slightest, smallest corner.

She looked straight at him and got the impression that she was seeing him, or a part of him, for the very first time. "Solas, what's with the…"

"Fen," he corrected her gently, "I am Fen here…"

"Fen," she said feeling it on her tongue, it felt strangely wrong when applied to him but at the same time very right. There was a deeper meaning to that name, she was sure of it. He was smiling up at her, he had a beautiful smile, full or warmth. "Fen, why do you have red dreadlocks? They don't really suit you…"

He actually laughed, "But you see, you're wrong, your eyes must be deceiving you, Nehnera, I have no dreadlocks…"

She scrunched up her eyes and looked again and sure enough, he didn't. Anymore. "What a relief," she said, "you look so much better like this." She reached down and placed a hand on the back of his warm naked skull, somehow she knew he liked that, that he liked it very much indeed. "What did you just call me?"

"Nehnera, you are Nehnera here. Do not forget that… It is a very sad elf who forgets her own name.… Or a very intoxicated one." He added, looking into her eyes and toying with one of the long silver earrings she was apparently wearing, he seemed to place a special emphasis on that word intoxication. "You also took part in a poetry recital earlier this evening…"

"A poetry…"

"Yes, a competition…" And now that he had mentioned it something tweaked almost irresistibly at edges of her memory…

"You do recall… that's why you're here… There was a competition… The competitors had to drink three shots of strongwine in three minutes and then recite three stanzas of poetry, by heart in front of the crowd without tripping up…"

And then it came to her the tang of alcohol in her mouth, the warmth in her blood and an extremely colourful but friendly crowd formed of extravagantly dressed and painted elves, no less drunk than her, probably more so, punching the air and chanting "Dirth! Dirth! Dirth![1]" As she rocked on the balls of her feet in front of them…

"I was the prize?" She asked, cautiously.

He laughed, "No, I was, I volunteered… I do hope you enjoy your evening with me."

She thought about it for a while and then slapped her thigh, "Oh I know what this is about, I know what is going on here…" As she did so she noticed were several rings on her fingers including one of obsidian around her thumb.

Mystified she extended her arms in front of her, bracelets and bangles, rings of all colours and all textures, jade, silver, mother of pearl, cornelian, she was wearing them. She touched her neck only to discover one very wide collar and several looser necklaces. Shook her head, earrings fluttered. A rainbow of filmy skirts cascaded from her waist held in place by a belted, jewelled girdle and above her waist she appeared to be wearing little more than an elaborate embroidered silk bodice, clasped between her breasts, with white linen sleeves covering her shoulders and upper arms.

"Oh you do, do you? Please inform me." He looked highly amused, there was an annoying smirk on his face.

"Fen… That name…" It flooded into her, she started jabbing a finger towards his chest. "You are a scoundrel, a wastrel, a ne'er do well, unreliable, all that… And you are attempting to seduce me."

He seemed fascinated, "Now how would you know that?"

"Because everybody says so, Fen!" She waved her arms in the air and nearly overbalanced, he made a quick grab for her.

She landed hard on her bottom on one of the steps, her jewellery jangled "Ouch!"

He squatted down next to her "Careful now." He did smell of alcohol, and sweet spicy perfume, fresh perspiration (the evening was balmy), smoke and something, other things… She thought. It was not unpleasant.

As if he couldn't help himself, he reached out and ran a finger over her lips. She blinked up at him, still not quite managing to see him as clearly as she would wish. He widened his grey, grey eyes that were looking directly into hers and raised his eyebrows suggestively. A wave of heat coursed through her.

And then he said expectantly, as if to help her focus. "You were saying?"

"Everybody, everybody around here, all the rumours they all say the same thing, he is not to be trusted, that Fen… Fen, Fen this, Fen that…" She had started off shouting but by the end she was mumbling.

She looked at him again. He grinned. Now she noticed that he appeared to be wearing heavy eyeliner and when he blinked there was dark blue glitter on his eyelids and even a smattering of golden glitter on his cheeks… And earrings, his left ear was pierced in several places and he wore a variety of rings through it. It was all very strange. She stroked the glitter on his face with a finger, as if to get it off, although it did look good on him, she had to admit.

"Where is here? Ell… Nehnera? Tell me, where are we?" He asked her.

"Here is here," she said with the drunk's irrefutable logic. "Here is…"

"Here is…" He repeated, coaxing her, as if she were a child.

"Arlathan…" She said with conviction. "Here is Arlathan. We are in Arlathan. Of course…"


[1] Speak! /works/359253/chapters/582283