AN: So, sorry about the huge delay between this chapter and the last. I had a serious case of writer's block with this chapter, and I'm still not very happy with the first half. I promise it gets better towards the end! :P Again, I worry about the length. I thought about cutting it in half, but I kind of like how the fluff in the second half balances out all the drama in the first half. I hope that you guys like it too! Once again, if you have any critiques, advice, or comments, please leave a review! Did you know that every time you review someone's story, a kitten and a puppy get their wings? Or something like that. Anyways, here's Chapter 4, hope you like it!
"Everyone ready? No telling what's waiting for us in here," Ser Perth said as he looked around at his fellow knights, the Grey Wardens, and their companions. The gathered fighters nodded and then, with one final deep breath, Perth yanked open the large wooden double doors that would lead into the Redcliffe Castle's main hall. The knights, along with Alistair, charged in first, their shields held up in front of them, with the rest right behind them. However, what they saw inside made them all stop short quite suddenly.
The hall itself was what Catherine always imagined a castle's main hall to look like. It was richly, but tastefully, decorated. A long, large light blue rug with golden trim ran down the length of the hall, ending just short of the two small steps that led up to the slightly-raised section of the room where a throne-like chair sat, presumably where the Arl would sit during his audiences. Lifelike portraits of what Catherine assumed were previous Redcliffe Arls adorned the walls alongside tapestries bearing the rook of the Redcliffe crest, and a welcoming fire was roaring in the large fireplace at the other end of the room, behind the raised seat.
What Catherine and the others did not expect about the hall were its inhabitants. Instead of a horde of undead or more demons, they saw a half dozen fully alive guards standing around Isolde, Teagan, and a young straw-haired boy that Catherine assumed to be Connor. What was most bizarre to the group was the strange acrobatics Teagan was doing. The bann was rolling around and waving his arms like some sort of jester, while Connor watched it all with rapt attention. Teagan finished his display with a backward somersault and a flourish of his hands, a goofy looking smile fit for a clown upon his face, and then took a seat on the ground next to Connor, his strange smile still plastered on his face.
You know, I have to hand it to the guy; he's pretty agile, Catherine thought, fighting down a smile that she knew would be entirely inappropriate, given the situation.
With the show over, Connor's attention was finally drawn to the group of heavily armed and armored intruders standing on the other end of the room.
"So these are our visitors? The ones you told me about, Mother?" Connor's lips moved, but the voice that issued from them was not one that fit a young boy, it didn't fit any human voice. It was lower than it should be and had a strange modulation to it that sent a shudder through Catherine.
Great, he must possessed by a demon. This should be… interesting, Catherine thought as she stepped forward, half expecting the apparently demon-enthralled guards to charge at her, but they simply stood where they were, staring at nothing.
"Y-yes, Connor," Isolde responded, her face a mask of sorrow and terror as she stared at her feet.
"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers? The ones I sent to reclaim my village?" the possessed-Connor asked as he stared intently at Catherine. The mage met the boy's gaze unflinchingly, trying with all her will to keep her face from showing her internal conflict.
They always told me there's only one way to deal with an abomination, Catherine thought with a mental grimace, but they never told me the abomination might be a little boy!
"And now it's staring at me! What is it Mother? I can't see it well enough," Connor said, which made Catherine's brow knit with confusion, she'd never heard of an abomination with eye-sight problems before.
"This… this is a woman, Connor. Just as I am," Isolde said quietly, looking as confused as Catherine felt while she finally moved her eyes to look at her son.
"You lie!" Connor yelled out, making Isolde take a frightful step backwards and stare back down at her feet, "This woman is nothing at all like you! Why, just look at her! Half your age and pretty, too. I'm surprised you don't order her executed in a fit of jealousy!"
Catherine quirked an eyebrow and felt suddenly very uncomfortable with the possessed boy's stare.
"Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!" Isolde exclaimed as she stepped back to her son, holding her hands out towards the boy as a few tears escaped her hazel eyes. In response to his mother's pleading cry, Connor's demeanor suddenly changed and he brought a hand up to his head, swaying slightly where he stood as if light-headed.
"M-Mother?" the boy asked as he looked around confusedly, "What's happening? Where am I?"
"Oh, thank the Maker!" Isolde said as she dropped to her knees next to her son, "Connor! Connor, can you hear me?"
But unfortunately for the relieved mother, the reprieve was only temporary, the demon quickly reasserting its control over the boy.
"Get away from me, fool women! You are beginning to bore me!" Connor snapped and pulled away from Isolde. The arlessa stood back up and stared at her son with her mouth agape for a few moments before turning towards Catherine.
"Grey Warden… please don't hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!"
"I know that, it's quite obvious he's been possessed by a demon," Catherine said, giving Isolde her best sympathetic look, which she knew wouldn't be at all comforting to the mother, before turning back to Connor.
"It was the mage that poisoned Eamon! He summoned the demon! Connor was just trying to save his father!" Isolde said desperately.
"No, I'm afraid your son did that on his own," Catherine said softly, frowning at the boy.
"It was a fair deal!" Connor yelled out suddenly, shaking his fist in the air, "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"
"Nooobody tells him what to do!" Teagan laughed out from where he sat next to Connor, looking up at the boy, "Nobody! Ha ha ha!
"Quiet Uncle!" Connor growled as he looked down at Teagan, "I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting didn't I? Yes, I did!" The boy turned back to Catherine, "But let's keeps things civil. This woman will have the audience she seeks. Tell us, woman… what have you come here for?"
"I came to put a stop to all of this," Catherine responded simply, taking a few more steps forward as she brought her staff up in front of her, "No one is going to be sending out more undead armies."
"She wants to ruin my fun! But I'm not done playing yet! No! I won't allow it!" Connor yelled out madly, "I crave excitement! And action! This woman spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now she'll repay me!"
With that, Connor ran out a side-door as the guards snapped out of their daze and charged forward. Teagan too, drew his sword and shield and ran towards Catherine, but Alistair moved up to intercept the bann, once again surprising the mage with his quick movements even while encased in heavy armor. The templar parried Teagan's first strike and then swung his shield around, catching the demon-influenced man in the side of his head, sending the noble to the ground in an unconscious heap.
The rest of the fight was over quickly as the outnumbered guards were overwhelmed by the attackers, the knights engaging their corrupted fellows, doing what they could to simply incapacitate the guards instead of killing them. Catherine and Leliana followed the knights' lead, but Sten and Morrigan had no such reservations, both of them slaying one of the guards.
With the combat over, Isolde quickly ran from where she'd been ducked to avoid any crossfire to help Teagan, who was slowly sitting back up and rubbing at the large bruise Alistair's shield bash had left on the side of his skull. The templar hovered nearby, sword still at the ready as Isolde offered Teagan a hand and helped the bann off the ground.
"Teagan! Teagan, are you alright?" the arlessa asked frantically.
"I am… better now, I think," Teagan said softly as he stood back up, "My mind is my own again."
Alistair relaxed, as did the rest of the rest of the group, though the knights seemed to be sending rather pointed glares towards Morrigan and Sten as they moved to help the surviving guards, who were also coming back to their senses.
Oh well, a couple dead guards isn't all that big compared to everything else that has happened here, Catherine thought with a shrug as she moved towards Isolde and Teagan.
"Where did Connor go?" Teagan asked as he took Isolde's hands in his.
"He probably ran up to his room," Isolde said, casting a glance upwards, "All this violence must have scared him."
That, or the demon realized it was outmatched and made a hasty retreat, Catherine thought with a frown. Who knows what it's up to up there? We need to figure this out quick.
"So, does anyone have a plan as to how we handle—" Catherine began, but the miserable look Isolde gave her made her falter, the mage opened and closed her mouth a few times as her brain worked to try to find some solution to their current problems that didn't involve one of them killing a child. Unfortunately she kept coming up with nothing, so she steeled herself to tell Isolde something that she knew the other woman most certainly didn't want to hear. Luckily for Catherine's conscience, Alistair beat her to it.
"There's only one way to deal with this," Alistair said quietly, his eyes staying fixed on the stone floor beneath him, "To get rid of the demon, we have to kill Connor."
"No!" Isolde exclaimed with an anguished sob, tears once again rolling out of her eyes freely, "You can't! My son is still in there, you saw it!"
"There's no other way," Alistair whispered, still refusing to meet Isolde's gaze.
"Actually, there is," a voice said from behind them.
Catherine spun on her heel and her lips curved into a small smile as she saw Jowan standing before them, eyeing the collected knights and guards cautiously as he slowly moved forward.
"You!" Isolde screamed, one of her arms rising to point accusingly at the fugitive mage, "What are you doing here? How did you get out of the dungeons! Arrest him! Now!"
"Wait," Catherine said, stepping between the knights and Jowan, "He got out of the dungeon because I let him out so that he could try to help us solve all of this. As I pointed out earlier, the demon and the undead is Connor's doing, accidental I'm sure, but it wasn't Jowan."
"But he did poison my husband!" Isolde cried, "I brought him here to help me and my son and he betrayed us!"
"I'm so sorry, I thought that—, "Jowan began to try to explain himself, but was cut off by Isolde.
"Enough! Perth, arrest him!"
"No," Catherine kept herself firmly between Perth and Jowan as she tried to keep her tone as diplomatic as possible, which, after having had only a few hours of sleep in the past two days, the mage found difficult to do, "I'm not saying that his poisoning of your husband should go unpunished, but Jowan just said that he knew of another way to get rid of the demon without killing Connor. Let's hear him out."
Without waiting for a reply, Catherine turned and gestured for Jowan to speak, silently praying that he had some miracle solution.
"There is another way to get rid of the demon, but it involves going into the Fade and confronting the demon there," Jowan explained, "If the demon is defeated there, it will be unable to keep its connection to our world and Connor will be freed."
This sounds way too easy, Catherine thought as she waited for the "but" that she knew had to be coming.
"But…"
Damnit, I hate being right all the time.
"The ritual to send someone into the Fade requires a lot of magical energy. Usually it would take a lot of lyrium and quite a few mages, but I can use the energy in someone's blood to make up for that," Jowan hesitated for a few moments before continuing, "However, it will require all of the energy in someone's blood to work."
"Meaning what, exactly?" Alistair asked, his hand having moved back to the hilt of his sword the moment Jowan entered the room, his eyes watching the blood mage's every tiny movement intently.
"Meaning, for this to work, someone will have to sacrifice their life," Jowan finished quietly, his face a mask of sorrow.
There was a long silence as everyone considered Jowan's words.
"I will do it," Isolde suddenly broke the silence with her bold statement, her tears stemmed by her sudden determination, "If it means you will not have to kill my son, I will gladly give up my life."
"Now wait just a minute!" Alistair exclaimed, "This is blood magic we're talking about! And that's a fugitive blood mage! I won't let you sacrifice yourself when we can't even be sure it will actually work!"
"It is not your choice to make!" Isolde cried, turning to glare at the former templar.
"She's right Alistair," Catherine said quietly to her fellow Grey Warden, "It's her son and her life. Therefore, I think this is her choice."
Alistair turned to stare at Catherine incredulously, looking both shocked and betrayed that she'd go along with this. Catherine gave him her best apologetic look, but once again, she knew that she fell far short of comforting.
"This is insane!" Alistair threw his hands into the air as he turned to the rest of their companions, looking for some support, but finding little. Morrigan looked bored, as if she was hardly paying attention to the conversation, and Sten was entirely impassive and silent, as usual. Leliana however looked thoughtful for a few moments before she suddenly spoke.
"You said the ritual is usually performed with a lot of lyrium and many mages, correct?" the bard asked, looking over at Jowan.
"Yes, but there are only three mages here, and I doubt you could have crammed the necessary amount of lyrium into your packs," Jowan responded regretfully.
"Ah, yes, but wouldn't the Circle Tower have both of those things in abundance?" Leliana asked as she turned to catch Catherine's gaze, "We have to go there for the treaty anyways, don't we? I'm sure we could convince them to come help the son of an important noble while we're there."
"It would take us a few days to go to and return from the Tower," Catherine pointed out, "Do you really think Connor will just sit up there and play with his toys while we're gone?"
"It's a risk we should take rather than go along with some blood magic ritual that involves Isolde sacrificing herself!" Alistair said, glaring at Catherine, "Do you really think Eamon will be happy to learn when he finally wakes up that we let his wife kill herself while he was bed-ridden and unconscious?"
Don't you mean if he finally wakes up? Catherine wisely decided to not voice that thought aloud.
"I think he'd prefer hearing that his wife gave up her life to save their son rather than hearing either that we killed Connor ourselves or that Connor and his demon pal went on a killing spree and slaughtered the whole damned village while we went on a stroll over to the Tower in the hope that they could help us!" Catherine said instead, her voice steadily rising in volume until she was yelling and the air around her nearly crackling with magical energy. The strain from all the battles was combining with the strain of this difficult moral quandary to put her very on edge.
Alistair, along with most of the others, gaped at her outburst. Before the other Grey Warden could respond, Leliana stepped between the two of them, facing Catherine. The redhead reached out to place a comforting hand on Catherine's shoulder and the mage felt herself relaxing slightly as she looked into those bright blue eyes.
"What should I do?" Catherine whispered so only Leliana could hear her.
"Do what you think is truly right," Leliana whispered back, giving Catherine a small smile and her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
Catherine heaved a sigh and turned to Teagan.
"Do you think, with Jowan's help, that you could keep Connor in check for a few days?" she asked.
"I think you cleared out most the undead," Teagan said as he scratched his jaw thoughtfully, "If you truly trust Jowan's intentions, then I think between him and the knights we can keep Connor from causing any more damage while you're away."
"I do trust Jowan," Catherine said as she gave her oldest friend another small smile and Teagan nodded his acceptance. Catherine rubbed her nose for a few moments, considering all her options as the weight of everyone's stares bored into her, "Alright then, we'll head to the Circle as fast as we can. First Enchanter Irving is a good man, so long as the templar knight-commander's stubbornness doesn't rear its ugly head too much, I think we can get the help we need."
Alistair smiled and surprised Catherine by walking up and enfolding her in a quick hug and thanking her emphatically. Catherine awkwardly patted his armored back and mumbled out a humble "you're welcome" before pulling away from the man and glancing towards the rest of her companions.
"Alright, no time to waste people, let's head out."
After having traveled as quickly as their tired legs would allow along the road leading north along Lake Calenhad's western shore, the Grey Wardens and their companions decided to make camp for the night as the sun set below the Frostback Mountains. They'd been fortunate to not come across any bandits or darkspawn along the way, but they found ample proof that someone was preying on travelers in this area, the evidence coming in the form of a decimated merchant caravan. And, judging by the amount of damage done to the merchants and their goods, it was likely the darkspawn. This left the whole group feeling uneasy as they settled in for the night.
Catherine was sitting in her tent, waiting for her shift on watch duty with Leliana. She knew that she should be attempting to get some rest while she could, but her head was so full of thoughts about the terror, excitement, and aggravation of the past two days that despite her aching limbs, sleep evaded her restless mind.
I'm starting to think I should have just let Greagoir send me away to be locked up instead of going along with Duncan, Catherine thought glumly, wallowing in her frustration at the cards life had dealt to her. You know, dear Maker, you have a terrible sense of humor. First you make me a mage that desperately wants to get out of the tower that your Chantry kept me locked up in, then you send along a chance to escape that prison only to lock me up in a whole new prison of world-shattering responsibilities. Thanks a bunch.
With a grunt of annoyance at her own depressing thoughts, Catherine reached into her pack in search of something to distract herself with. She groped around inside for a few moments before her hand closed around the handle of a mirror that had she'd found amongst the wreckage of the destroyed caravan earlier in the day. The mage pulled it out and examined the back of it in the light of the handful of candles she'd placed around her tent.
That the mirror had survived the destruction of the caravan undamaged was nothing short of a miracle, so Catherine felt that it must have some luck imbued into its beautiful golden frame, the back of which had pictures of deer and birds happily frolicking. Catherine had never been an overly superstitious type, but given the circumstances, she'd take what she could get, whatever it might be.
Plus, you've been without a mirror for weeks now and your vanity is slowly eating away at you, Catherine's honest, self-critical inner voice said slyly.
With a small chuckle Catherine turned the mirror over and looked into the reflected image of her face. While in the Circle Tower, Catherine had always prided herself on her looks, and had gone to rather great lengths to ensure she always looked good. Arrogant as it might be, the mage had always felt that her beauty set her apart from a majority of the other female students. Now, with the self-critical part of her brain more in control than ever before, Catherine had to admit to herself that she was never really that much more beautiful than any of the other girls, and was most definitely less attractive than quite a few.
And now I'm less attractive than all of them, Catherine thought with a soft snort as she took in her unkempt raven-black hair that was long overdue for a trimming and her dirt-smudged face. Looking down across the rest of her body she realized the rest of her was not much better off. Her body itself was actually in better shape than it had ever been, with all the traveling. She could feel tone in her muscles that had never been there before, but she hadn't lost her definitely feminine curves, curves that she was quite proud of. Her robes however, had never looked worse, stained with dirt, blood, and Maker only knows what else.
Can't do much about the clothing right now, but as for my face and hair…
Finding the distraction she'd been seeking, Catherine set about trying to fix herself up a bit.
First she pulled out her canteen and splashed some water onto her face, scrubbing at her smooth, pale skin firmly with a small piece of spare cloth until the dirt had been rinsed away. She looked back into the mirror and her full, pastel pink lips curved into a satisfied smile as she took in her soft, rounded, and now clean, face. She ran a finger along her high cheekbones, across her thin, slightly arched brow, and then down the concave bridge of her small, button nose. She was naturally fair-skinned, and being locked away in the Tower had always made getting a tan impossible, but since leaving with Duncan she'd noticed that she'd begun to get a bit of color that had never been there before. She rather liked that.
After giving herself a nod, Catherine reached into her pack and dug around until she found a pair of clippers and a comb, she then set about trimming her hair. In the Tower she'd always kept her hair well groomed, keeping it held back in an elegant bun so that her hair wouldn't get in the way while she was attempting to concentrate on her spells. When she wasn't practicing, however, she'd like to let a few stray locks bounce free so that she could flirtatiously flick them aside whenever she felt like trying to get something from someone.
Since leaving the Tower however, Catherine had found it rather difficult to maintain her usual level of grooming while constantly traveling with very few of the simple luxuries she'd taken for granted while in the Circle. Like for instance, a mirror.
Or regular access to a bathtub, Catherine thought with a scowl.
Once again holding the mirror up in front of her face, Catherine began using the small clippers to trim away bits of her ebony locks and using her comb to untangle the many knots that had formed, slowly bringing the tangled mess that was her hair back to order. Once the trimming and combing was done, Catherine began to tie her hair in her usual bun, high on the back of her head. Since the disaster at Ostagar, Catherine had never taken the time to do this after waking up in the mornings, as she did before joining the Grey Wardens. It really didn't take all that long, but time has seemed so critical to her since she'd set out with Alistair and Morrigan to somehow save the world that she'd never bothered with it.
Or perhaps it was because there was no one I wanted to really look good for at first, Catherine thought, smirking to herself as an image of Leliana suddenly burst into her thoughts.
A few minutes later, Catherine looked over her reflection once again, this time fully satisfied with what she saw, though not in the same way she would have been before Duncan recruited her. Before she would have been satisfied with looking her best for the sake of being better than others, but now she was simply proud that despite everything that was happening, despite all the responsibilities and worries that had been placed upon her shoulders, she could still maintain her beauty when she wanted to. Confidence replaced frustration as Catherine smiled into her own emerald eyes.
It's amazing what a little bit of a make-over can do for your self-esteem, Catherine thought with a smirk. Here I am, only twenty years old, leading a ragtag group of people trying to somehow stop an entire Blight, living out of a tent, and I can still look damn good.
"Catherine?" Leliana's soft voice interrupted the Grey Warden's rather self-absorbed thoughts, causing her to jump slightly, "It's time for our watch."
"Oh, right," Catherine responded as she tucked away the mirror, clippers, and comb and grabbed her staff before pushing herself off the ground and out of the tent. Stepping out of the tent flap, Catherine suddenly found herself face to face with Leliana, with only a scant few inches separating them. The mage watched as Leliana quickly noticed her new hairstyle, and was amazed by how quickly the confidence she'd just built up transformed into awkward nervousness as she hoped the redhead would approve.
"I like what you've done with your hair," Leliana said after a moment, and Catherine exhaled the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
Maker, what is wrong with me? How does this woman have such an effect on me?
"I, um, thanks," Catherine responded, feeling even more awkward as her brain seemed unable to think about anything other than how beautiful the other woman looked in the warm light of the campfire, "Uh, this is how I usually wore it back at the Circle Tower. I've kind of let it go wild since I left there, and I guess I just randomly decided to bring it back to order tonight for some reason."
Leliana let out a soft giggle (which nearly made Catherine swoon), then she suddenly grabbed the Warden's hand (which did make Catherine swoon) and pulled the mage over to sit by the fire so that they were shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip with the fire in front of them. The rest of the companions had already disappeared into their respective tents for some much needed rest, leaving Catherine and the bard alone. This fact had Catherine's imagination running wild.
"I think that hairstyle suits you, stylish, but not too flashy. Not like the elaborate styles they have back in Orlais," Leliana said with a chuckle. Catherine fought to bring her attention back to the real Leliana from where it was trying to focus on a fantasy-Leliana that was wearing considerably less clothing—
Gah! You're doing it again! Pay attention to her you idiot!
"One year, feathers were all the rage, so Lady Elise decided to outdo everyone else by having live songbirds in her hair."
Catherine blinked as this odd piece of information finally broke through the haze of her overactive imagination.
"She had birds… in her hair?" Catherine asked, dumbfounded.
"Yep, the poor little things were so scared, trapped in that big mess of hair. And let me tell you, little birdies have rather loose bowels when they're scared," Leliana giggled.
Catherine blinked a few more times as her brain registered the redhead's joke before suddenly breaking out in loud giggles.
"Shh!" the bard tried to hush the mage through her own giggles, "You'll wake everyone up!"
"S-sorry," Catherine said breathlessly as she managed to stifle her laughing, "That was just an interesting mental image you gave me there."
"I guarantee the mental image isn't half asinteresting as the real image was," Leliana grinned over at the mage, who turned her head to meet the redhead's gaze. The two then sat like that for a short while, simply smiling at each other, the air around them silent save for the crackling of the campfire, the whisper of the wind, and the faint sound of snoring issuing from the direction of Alistair's tent.
"I feel so comfortable with you, like I can say anything to you and you wouldn't judge me," Leliana eventually said softly. Catherine grinned in response.
"Oh, I'm judging you alright," Catherine said, "I just keep it to myself until I can gossip about you behind your back with Sten."
"See! It's so much fun to have a conversation with you!" Leliana said as she giggled some more. Catherine was quickly realizing that the redhead had the cutest laugh, and she silently vowed to make the bard laugh as much as she possibly could. Catherine was so caught up in making that vow that she almost didn't notice as Leliana rested her head against the mage's shoulder, "I enjoy your company so very much."
Suddenly Catherine found her confidence charging back up from where her nervousness had buried it. Perhaps it was the way the conversation seemed to be going so great that inspired the confidence, or perhaps it was the feeling of the bard's silky red hair barely tickling against her cheek. Or maybe she was just slightly delirious from lack of sleep. Whatever it was, something gave the Grey Warden the sudden courage to ask the question that had been haunting her mind.
"Do you often enjoy the company of other women?" Catherine asked in a playful tone she wasn't even aware was in her repertoire of tones, a tone that she hoped suggested all the implications she wanted it to express.
"And what would you do if I said that I do? Very much so in fact?" Leliana replied without hesitation, her tone equally playful as she shifted her body to press against Catherine a little bit more.
Number one on the list would probably be to jump up and dance around in joy, I think, Catherine thought as her lips curved into a huge grin, Then again, I think I much prefer the current situation.
"I dunno," Catherine continued the banter, trying to keep her voice from giving away too much of how relieved and excited she felt, "Maybe giggle a little bit, try to hide how much my cheeks are blushing and then flash you a shy little smile?"
Leliana lifted her head just slightly off of Catherine's shoulder so that she could turn to look at the side of the mage's face. Catherine fought to keep from shivering as she felt the other woman's warm breath against her cheek.
"My, you are blushing!" Leliana whispered into Catherine's ear, sending a pleasurable shudder down the mage's spine despite her best efforts at self-control.
Oh no you don't you little minx. I, Catherine Amell, will not be the seducee!
"You should save the shy smile for when I'm not expecting it though," the redhead shifted so that her lips were just shy of making contact with Catherine's ear before continuing huskily, "Surprise me."
However, I've been wrong before.
Catherine swallowed past the lump that had formed in her throat as she realized how entirely out-classed she was in terms of seduction when compared to the temptress that was leaning against her. Catherine was still working through the nearly overwhelming desire that clouded her brain to try and think of some way to turn the tables on the redhead when the other woman suddenly stood up. Catherine just blinked up at her questioningly, missing the warmth of Leliana's body pressed against her despite the fact that she was sitting a bit too close to the fire anyways.
"Can't get too comfortable," Leliana answered Catherine's unspoken question with a teasing grin that made it obvious that she knew exactly what she was doing to the younger woman, "Don't want to fall asleep on my watch, do I? Especially not while I'm sitting next to our group's leader! I think I'll take a quick walk around the camp."
With a final wink and a small giggle, the redhead flounced away, leaving Catherine to stew in her desires.
I… That was… She is… Evil! Catherine thought as she watched the bard wander off. So why does that make me want her so much more?