Isla's eyes fluttered open, and she groaned. She had a monumental headache. "Uuurgh..." Her eyes fluttered open, and the concerned faces of Alistair and Duncan looked down upon her. "Welcome back." Alistair grinned, offering her a hand and helping her to her feet.
"Arran?" She queried, looking about for her sister.
She saw Arran lying sprawled out on the ground, her eyes shut. "Oh god! Arran!" Isla ran towards her, her heart in her throat. She was already calling healing magic to her fingertips, but as she knelt beside her, her sister's eyes opened.
Arran groaned too, pushing herself upright and massaging her temples. "I feel like I've been in a drinking contest with a dwarf..."
Her eyes focused on her sister's worried, but relieved expression. "Me too!" She laughed. They were alive.
Several Hours Later...
Alistair was heading to the quarter master, looking for Arran. Isla had advised him not to bother, because she wouldn't be found where she had gone. He had enquired at the kennel, but the kennel master had not seen her since she had helped apply a healing poultice to a rather ill looking mabari. He passed Cailan's tent, and the two guards posted outside glared at him.
"What?" He shrugged, moving past them, only to hear the flap of the tent being pulled back. He hesitated, wondering if it would be Cailan and whether or not to risk a snatch of conversation with the king. But it wasn't the king that emerged.
It was Arran.
Her hair was a little dishevelled, and as she stepped out she was busy adjusting her arm bracers. Her blue eyes caught Alistair's, and she offered him a knowing grin. "Hey there Handsome." He gawped at her as she approached, and he pointed to the Cailan's tent. "You...didn't?"
"Didn't what?" She projected perfect innocence, "Advise the King about Grey Wardenly matters? Course not Alistair, don't be silly. I don't know very much about Grey Wardenly matters."
"He's married!" He exclaimed, as she linked her arm into his and began to lead him back to the Grey Warden tents. "So was I." She retorted, letting out a sigh. "Well, sort of. Didn't end well."
"You were married?" Alistair looked at her in disbelief, eyes widening.
"Well...you know." And with that statement Arran's tone seemed to suggest that was the end of the conversation. "Were you looking for me?" She led the conversation away, and Alistair's mind clicked back into position.
"Yes...Yes." He said, "Duncan wants to go over the battle plans with us." Alistair let out a long sigh, eyeing Arran suspiciously. She said nothing, merely started to hum a tune under her breath. Her head bobbed along as they headed back to the warden's tents, blue eyes flickering over the passing scenery. The walk wasn't particularly long, but for Alistair it was very awkward.
"Ah, you found her." Duncan said as they approached, and Arran broke into a wide grin. She disentangled her arm from Alistair's and trotted over to him, affectionately kissing the old man on the cheek like she would a father. She turned around and planted herself next to him on the logs, and the quickly fell into discussion about the upcoming battle. Alistair was not pleased to be hearing that they were sent on an errand boy's mission - but then neither were the twins. Duncan soon shushed them about that, however, and that was the end of that. As the discussion drew to an end, Duncan reached into his pack.
"This, was given to an old friend of mine." He said softly, pulling out a large silver flask, embossed with the seal for the house of Aeducan on it. "It contains dwarven ale, and he told me of a tradition where he and his men used to have a competition to see who could take the biggest gulp. This of course isn't the same brew that I drank with him, but it is something similar and has the same... flavour, I guess." He grinned, his face crinkling with it. He lifted it up in a toast to...the maker, possibly, and then threw back a mouthful. He grimaced, one eye opening and then the other.
"I remember once, not long after I had joined the wardens." Duncan began, his voice hoarse. "I was with the commander that had recruited me, and we were at a function at the Circle of Magi. The ceremony was incredibly dull, so half way through I snuck out. I explored the tower for a bit, the place being mostly deserted as nearly everyone was at the ceremony. In the end I ran into a rather attractive young mage. She was very...forward, and being the age I was I didn't need asking twice. We headed off to the apprentice dorms, and we were just getting to the interesting part when in stormed my Commanding officer, an older woman just catching us right in the middle!" Duncan then burst into a loud laugh, the smile on his face widening as he handed the flask to Arran.
Alistair and Isla's jaws hit the floor, had Duncan really just told a sex story? Arran seemed unaffected, beyond amusement, at the old man's story. Her own grin matched his, and she chuckled. "You dirty old man." She teased, before sniffing the mouth of the flask gingerly. She grimaced, and crinkled her nose. "Eurgh! What is this filth?" She eyed Duncan carefully. The man shrugged. "Something I picked up in Orzammar, I find it best not to read the labels."
Arran shook her head. "When I was... 15." She began, her blue eyes glancing from Duncan to Isla to Alistair, "I was madly in love with a boy in the alienage. He was beautiful, the most intense purple eyes you've ever seen, a quirky, cheeky grin, and he could almost, almost out run me around the alienage. I was determined to impress him, and knew that he had been eyeing a particular pair of boots in Alarith's shop. I had no coin and was determined to steal them. So one night I picked the lock and snuck in. I located the boots and made to escape, but ended up tripping over Alarith's cat, where I fell and clattered into a set of shelves. Well, I managed to wake him and his wife up, and they chased me from the shop. I ran as fast as I could, but paid no attention where I was going and ran straight into a cart where I tripped again, fell over and knocked myself unconscious on a rock. When I awoke father gave me such a thrashing for stealing, I could never look at that gorgeous boy again without getting a twinge on my backside!"
With that tale concluded, she tilted her head back and took a great swig of the ale. For a second she gagged on it, but managed to take one gulp, and then two. After she lowered the flask she winced, and shuddered, her shoulders rising up as she forced the fluid down. "By the Maker that stuff is disgusting Duncan." She grinned, before passing the flask to Alistair.
He looked a little nervous as he took the flask from her, unsure of it's contents. He had gotten drunk with Grey Warden's before, and found it a difficult, if not fun, enterprise. His tongue darted over his lips and he hunted his mind for a story. "Does it have to be embarrassing?"
"It has to involve either sex, or some sort of personal humiliation Alistair." Arran grinned, elbowing him in the ribs.
He whined, swirling the alcohol around in its container. "But I do that every day! Surely you don't need one in detail?"
The other three eyed him, grins playing upon all their faces.
"Fine!" He relented, throwing his hands up in the air. "Fine. I had only been in the warden's three weeks. We were in camp, in the Brecilian Forest and I had just been sent on a hunt with a couple of the other Wardens, Lewis and Dean. We were stalking a particularly cautious stag, with Dean and Lewis flanking it either side. The brush was pretty thick and I have never been any good at being stealthy. I'm just no good at it. I thought I saw the stag and rushed forward with the net I was carrying... Only for Dean to think that my crashing through the undergrowth was the stag and he let loose an arrow. It hit me right on the arse, burying right in. I howled and screamed like a baby, and needless to say the stag escaped wild and free. I couldn't sit down for a month."
Arran laughed, Isla laughed, and Duncan laughed. Alistair could feel the hot embarrassment flush his cheeks. Duncan slapped him on the shoulder. "Take a swig lad, it dulls the pain!" The young warden obliged, lifting the cask and taking the largest gulp so far. Isla was horrified to see him swallow not once, not twice, but three times. And then a fourth. Her mouth dropped open and Alistair pulled the cask away, grimacing and drawing a haggard breath in through his teeth. "Urgh." His voice was dry with the alcohol, and Isla could've sworn his eyes looked like they were watering. "Maker's breath." He muttered, "That is vile." And then he offered her the flask.
Isla glanced between them all, each of them expecting some sort of story from her. She sighed and took the flask from Alistair. "I remember when I was in the tower, I was taking my bath and I had to leave everything but the small towel I had outside the cubicle." She scowled as she remembered what Jowan, the little snake, had done. "My so-called friend had the idea that taking my clothes would be hilarious so, when it came for me to finish up I had nothing but that tiny towel that barely covered anything!" Isla sighed. "I somehow made it through most of the tower without being seen but just as I neared the final set of stairs, Cullen bumped into me. You remember Cullen Arran, the red head. Yes of course you do! And there is me, almost stark naked standing in the middle of a hallway with nothing but a tiny towel covering the important bits, soaking wet and him standing there staring at me blushing almost as badly as I was. We couldn't even look at each other for over two weeks without us both running away with embarrassment!" With that over with Isla took a swig of the brew and gulped it down barely tasting it. A few seconds later she was up and running a few feet away from the fire before completely emptying her stomach near the mabari pen. "Maaaeraker!"
Duncan threw his head back with a hearty laugh. "That's exactly what I did the first time I tasted dwarven ale!" He called, as Arran also fell into uncontrollable laughter. Alistair hopped to his feet and trotted after her, rubbing her shoulders and offering her his water canteen. "Are you OK?" He asked gently, a slight smile upon his lips. Isla snatched the water and gratefully rinsed the taste of vomit out of her mouth.
"Don't coddle her Alistair!" Arran shouted over, a smile dancing on her lips. "She's a Grey Warden now, you gotta treat her like one!"
Isla spat out the water. "Oh, go make love to a goat Arran!" She hissed, stalking back over to their fire, sitting down by it. Alistair trailed behind her like a wee lost puppy, reclaiming his water canteen.
"So, what now?" He asked softly, "Do we carry on the game until we all pass out?"
"If you like?" Duncan suggested, shifting off the log and lying on the ground, his shoulders resting up against it. He had removed his breast plate and had it lying flat beside him. He unbuckled his dagger hostler from around his waist, and laid it on the breastplate. Arran's eyes were quick to spot it, and she moved from her perch over to squat beside the old warden. She popped it out and examined it in the firelight. It was beautiful, cut from Obsidian, or some other beautiful black gem. She tested the edge, cutting herself with a sharp intake of breath. Duncan's dark eyes watched her carefully.
"Where did you get this?"
"He stole it from a First Enchanter, if I recall correctly." The voice didn't belong to any of those sitting around the fire, it in fact belonged to King Cailan. Everyone moved to leap to their feet, but the King flashed them a smile and raised his hands. "Please, no ceremony on my account."
He wasn't dressed in his armour. Instead he wore simple grey leggings and a blue tunic, tightly belted at the waist. To Isla he looked almost normal, except for that wry grin on his face and the beautiful quality of his boots. His hair was tied back loosely in a pony tail, and his blue eyes flashed a sly look at Arran. She ignored him, instead focusing her attention on the dagger. "May I join you wardens?"
"By all means." Duncan said, settling back against the log. "And you are right, I did steal it from a First Enchanter. It is a powerful blade, especially potent against the darkspawn."
"You used it to powerful effect when you went into the Deep Roads," Cailan said, sitting himself on a log. "My father told me the tale when I was young."
Duncan nodded, "Indeed. As was the sword you now carry your Highness, the runes upon it glow in the presence of darkspawn."
"Does this mean we're all obligated to find funky anti-darkspawn weapons now? My precious Fang seems silly in comparison now." Arran weighted the dagger in her hand, swinging it around in a quick circle. "Not at all, dear one." Duncan grinned, reaching out and taking the dagger away from her. "You can rob my corpse of it when I die."
Arran frowned at Duncan, reaching out and kicking him. "You shouldn't joke about such things." She scolded. "I'd take your boots too."
Cailan laughed, and then gestured at the flask Isla still held in her hands. "Is that what I think it is?"
"If you think it's some sort of beverage fermented from mabari piss, you'd be right." Isla grumbled, passing it over to Cailan's outstretched hand.
"You've got a charming talent with words, milady." He grinned impishly.
"You try learning five different dialects of Tevinter, Mi'lord and see how your english improves."
Cailan laughed, "Ah, I see you sister does have a sense of humour Arran!"
Arran grinned. "Only when she uses really big words, makes her feel important." She squealed suddenly, leaping to her feet frantically patting out a flame on her ass. She shot a glare at Isla, who only grinned and blew on the end of her finger. "Wheesht."
Alistair rolled his eyes, and turned his attention to Caliph. "So, M'lord," He said, "Do you have a tale of personal humiliation to tell? Tis tradition, or so Duncan tells us."
The king nodded, eyeing the flask fondly. "I had only just turned 13, and we were staying at Redcliffe." He paused, a frown etching into her features, a moment of recollection turned into very happy memory, and he wagged a finger at Alistair. "Actually, my friend, this tale involves you."
Alistair's eyes went wide, his tongue darting over his lips, "Does it?"
"Yes! You were there, in fact, and the the whole debacle was your doing!"
Alistair gulped, and rubbed his hands over his face.
Isla raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate your highness?"
"Alistair is...well, was, the ward of my uncle Eamon. And I was visiting Redcliffe with my father, and Loghain. I was young at the time of course, and very impulsive. Poor Ali, you were even younger and very impressionable. I talked you into showing me where Eamon kept the key to his liquor cabinet, and I'm afraid we got very drunk of not very much brandy. Eamon had not been long married to Isolde, and in our drunken judgement we decided to raid her clothing chest and try on a few outfits." He laughed, and glanced at Alistair who was trying to disappear into his splitmail.
"So THATS where the desire dress up and dance the remigold came, he made you do it once before!" Arran exclaimed, pointing at Alistair.
Alistair just pulled his turtle-neck jumper further over his pink cheeks.
"No..." Isla said cautiously, a grin creeping over her lips. "Cailan did it, didn't he?"
The king laughed, "Yes, the lady mage is correct. I was actually in the middle of preforming the jig when my father stepped into the room. Naturally he was very confused, but then he spotted the barely touched bottle of brandy and reached a conclusion. To cut a long story short, he must have been extraordinarily bored with whatever everyone else was talking about and decided to join us in our drinking. It wasn't until Loghain discovered the three of us on the garden lawn singing "I've got the biggest balls of them all", or rather father teaching us the song that we felt a little bit embarrassed. The three of us were in Isolde dresses. I've never been able to look her in the eye since, that woman has a terrible taste in fashion. I think Loghain was more affronted that we were dressed in Orlesian fashion than in dresses."
Arran giggle as Cailan threw back a few good swallows of the ale, while Alistair burned with embarrassment. Feeling sorry for him Isla patted him on the shoulder, the first act of kindness she had showed him the entire day. "You were how old?"
"Nine." He mumbled.
"It's alright, I know how you feel. Having a role model turn out to be an embarrassing trouble maker is always hard going. I know, I am there." She offered Alistair a grin and a glance at her sister, who was trying to convince Cailan to put his hair in plaits.
Alistair glanced over to them, and exchanging a knowing look with Duncan, who just shrugged and offered a smile. Alistair returned it, after all, family always had to be embarrassing, didn't they?
At the top of the tower Ishal.
"What the HELL is that?" Alistair yelled, as the great ogre turned around to face them. The beast bellowed, and Arran frowned. "I dunno, but it sure is ugly!"
"It's an ogre." Isla said softly, covered in sweat and blood. She was not used to this – it was clear that Alistair had been in many battles, and Arran spent her days running. But Isla was exhausted, she wasn't used to casting spell after spell after spell, and Alistair was far too good at getting himself hacked up. She drained another lyrium potion, tossing the empty vial away. "I read about them in the tower."
"Right-o then." Arran said. "You got for it's throat, and I'll go for it's nads. Alistair, you gut it's stomach."
Isla shook her head. "No. It's hide is too thick. I'll just..." She waved her hand, casting a paralysing glyph on the creature. "Pause it. Go for it's eyes, watch out for it's teeth. And it's arms."
Alistair nodded, and sped off to intercept the beast, drawing it's attention away from the elves. Finding unknown reserves, Isla summoned up another electric bolt, hurling it at the beast just as it broke from the glyph. Arran bolted around the room, circling the great beast and going for it's back. She ran up to balance nimbly on it's large shoulders. She took one of her many smaller throwing knives, and plunged it into the beast's eye. It bellowed a roar of pain, and stumbled left, Alistair used the opportunity to leap up and bury his own blade in it's now exposed throat. It lurched wildly across the room, Arran hacking and slashing and stabbing at the soft flesh of it's face, before burying a blade deep within it's eye socket, pushing up into it's brain.
Again the Ogre let out a bellow, stumbling with it's arms swaying uncontrollably. "ISLA!" Arran yelled, but too late. The exhausted mage had not been paying attention, and looked up just in time to be swatted aside and into the wall by the Ogre's flailing limbs. Even above the chaotic noise, Arran could hear the crack of her skull against the stone.
"ISLA!" She screamed, leaping from the ogre's falling corpse to rush to her sister's side. Alistair ran to light the beacon, which flared to life. Hopefully the signal was not too late. He turned as the doors burst open, darkspawn swarming onto the top level. He was about to turn and yell a warning to Arran, but it was too late. Three crossbow bolt's pierced her armour, and she fell over the body of her sister. Alistair let out a war cry, rushing forward only to take an arrow in his chest. Then everything went black.
A day later...
"I won't believe it. I won't believe it until I see his body lying at my feet." Arran swallowed, staring out over the swampy marsh around Flemeth's hut.
"I assure you child, he is dead, along with the King and his Army." Flemeth was sitting by the fire, tending to the stew bubbling away.
"I don't believe you, witch." The elf spat.
"Arran...she's right. That many darkspawn...they didn't stand a chance." Alistair's voice was flat, deadpan. His eyes were red rimmed, his throat was raw. His stomach was heavy.
"I won't believe it!" Arran hissed, getting to her feet and walking to the edge of the swamp. She picked up a stone, and tossed it into the murky waters with a wet splat. "He wouldn't just die on me like that, he wouldn't. It'd be so rude."
"Rude?" Alistair glanced up at her, frowning. "Rude? What sort of thing is that to say?"
The elf turned around to glare at him, a frown deep on her features. "It's exactly what it is, rude! No final memorable parting words, no wisdom to take away with me! He wouldn't leave us with nothing, he just...he just wouldn't!"
"He didn't." It was Isla. She emerged from the hut, a bandage around her head and in her ruined and shabby mage robes. She leant upon her staff wearily, and was looking to her sister. "Duncan left us with each other."
Arran fell silent, as did Alistair. Isla moved to her sister and took her in her arms, where Arran broke down into fresh sobs.
"I may not have known him well, sister." She said softly, smoothing her sister's hair. "But I know what he meant to you." Her eyes moved to Alistair, noting that he looked like he was just about to crack too. She guided Arran over to where the Warden sat, and squeezed his shoulder with one hand, her other arm about his sister's waist.
"And I know he was just as important to you Alistair. And I promise you both, Loghain will pay for his betrayal."
Alistair tensed, drawing in a breath before he relaxed, turning his gaze to fix on Isla. Her face was set in an expression of grim determination, and with her sister now awake Arran seemed to be a little stronger. Well, the promise of revenge was something, wasn't it? He nodded silently. "So what do we do now?"
Arran sniffed, wiping her eyes. "We go kill Loghain, and then go get the archdemon. Easy."
"That's not a plan." Isla said softly, a smile touching her lips. "That's our goal." She ruffled the back of her sister's hair, and then let them both go. "We'll think of something."
Her blue eyes moved to Flemeth, who offered her a knowing smile. She knew the woman was more than she appeared to be, there was no doubt she was powerful to have saved the three of them from the tower. Isla could feel the magic rolling off her in waves, best not to piss her off then, she thought.
"You wouldn't know what happened to my pack would you?" she asked meeting the witches gaze. The witch grinned and nodded producing the tattered pack from a chest nearby and handing it too her.
"What's so important about the pack sis?" Arran asked, looking at her quizzically.
"Help, the treaties that Duncan sent us to find. They were still in my pack before the battle."
"Of course!" Alistair exclaimed, "We can use the treaties!"
Arran stared at them blankly. "Tretees?"
"Treaties sister, they'll help us build an army … to fight the archdemon, to save the world?"
"Oh … right now I get it! Treaties … good thing, gotcha!"Arran offered a two thumbs up.
Flemeth nodded, "And I want to offer you my help." Isla raised an eyebrow at the witch.
"Thank you, but you've really done enough already. Frankly, we owe you." "Consider it repayment for your lives, then." Flemeth said, and not letting them reply she went on, "I want you to take Morrigan with you." A silence greeted the old witch's request. "Ehh... Are you sure?" Alistair began, not sure he liked the idea of travelling with two mages. "Of course I am sure. You three need all the help you can get, and Morrigan is quite competent in her arts. You will find her extremely useful, of that I have no doubt."
"Do I not get a say in this matter, mother?" Morrigan muttered, walking over with a frown. "I would rather not go with them, if it's all the same to you."
"Nonsense child!" Flemeth snapped, "You will go where you are told, with less of your lip."
Arran hesitated, lifting a finger to speak and then thought better of it. Instead Isla said what was on her mind. "What if we don't want to take Morrigan?" "You will do it as a favour for me." Flemeth stated.
And so it was, Morrigan joined the Grey Wardens on their quest to slay the arch demon. No-one was particularly happy about it, but that was the end result.
Thanks for the Reads and Reviews! Not to mention all the faves - we've been really flattered people like the story so much. It's meant to be a little silly and has totally taken on a life of it's own!
Sorry it has taken us so long to get the next chapter up, but between working, travelling and moves, our lives have just been chaotic! You've probably noticed a lack of updating in all our stories, collabs and invdually. D= But that will change, since we now have time, glorious time! Hope you enjoyed the latest chapter of Arran and Isla's naughty adventures. That Cailian, he's a charmer just like his daddy. And lets face it, the Therin boys all seem to have a thing for elves, right? xD