Author's Notes: Hi all! Things are going to start getting more interesting from here on out, so keep on your toes ;) Some plots are being set into motion, and all kinds of fun stuff. Plus, who doesn't enjoy some Alistair/Amell fluff? I know I do!

Stanza: Avernus is in the future. That's all I'm going to say for now. Thanks for the compliments! They definitely ease the writing process-I don't feel as self-conscious. :P

bart4nat: It's true-you don't see too many! One-shots I like, but I find them a lot harder to do...I'm not as good at fitting all I want to say into just one piece. I always do chaptered stories for that reason. :)

Stone in focus: It gave you butterflies? XD Oh dear. I hope that's a good thing. And you know, I thought about the issues that'd come with them telling. Let's just say that things involving how they rebuild the order is going to cause some waves. With whom, you won't know. But you'll see. :P Get out of my head! Haha!

Don't forget to review :D Please and thank you!


"I do hope we'll be staying here in Val Royeaux a little bit longer. I made an engagement for tomorrow night that I plan to keep."

"Don't worry, Zevran, I don't plan on leaving just yet." Thayer took a bite of his greens, looking down as he chewed. "We've only been here, what, two days? That wouldn't be much of a vacation, would it?"

"Val Royeaux has so much to offer," Leliana said cheerfully. "I haven't gotten a chance to show you all even half of it."

"I could use some recreation after all we've been through these last few days," Alistair said. He drank from his mug. "And the less we see those Grey Wardens, the better."

"You never did tell me what you did while I was at the library." Thayer looked at the other. "Did you run into anyone else?"

"Yes, and they were just as welcoming as before. Ugh."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Trouble with the Wardens, hm?"

"You could say that," Alistair muttered.

Leliana furrowed her brow and looked from Thayer to Alistair. "What happened?"

"They find it very strange that Thayer survived slaying the archdemon. In truth, it is odd, but they're being incredibly disrespectful about it. After all, he slayed the damn thing!"

"No Grey Warden has ever survived, isn't that right?" Zevran stroked his chin. "Their suspicion isn't unfounded. And as Orlesians, they harbor certain feelings against Fereldans, anyway." He plopped a cherry tomato in his mouth.

"Not all Orlesians act in such a way against Fereldans," Leliana retorted. She gave Zevran a mildly disapproving look. "It's unfortunate that the Grey Wardens are treating you so badly."

"It's not exactly bad," Thayer said, "they just seem uncomfortable with it. To be honest, I am, too, but there's nothing really I can do. I'm here, and that's the end of it."

He and Alistair stared at each other for a moment. The truth of the matter was they both knew why he was still alive. However, it was a secret that would remain between them, with only one other person in the know. He wondered briefly where Morrigan was, what she was doing…wondered about the baby.

He shook his head.

"So do you have everything you need to complete your ritual?" Leliana inquired.

"Yes. It's deceptively simple, but who knows whether or not we can do it successfully. I'll leave that part to Thayer." Alistair smiled playfully at the mage. "It involves mixing things. I'm just the hack-and-slasher."

Thayer chuckled. "You can recite the chant. That will work." After finishing off what was left on his plate, he leaned back in his chair. "So, what about you two? What will you two do? "

"Not become a Grey Warden," Zevran said immediately. "With all due respect, that is not a life I wish to live. However," he said with a smile, "I would be more than willing to accompany you and help you with recruiting. I daresay I've got a good eye for eligible candidates."

"I want to help, too," Leliana said. "I'm not an assassin by any means, but I know a bow better than anyone. Even you, Zevran." She winked.

"No disagreement there," he said. With a challenging smirk he added, "But I'd like to see you kill seven people in five seconds using a bow in the same way I can with a dagger."

Alistair made a face. "Can we not talk about killing people at the dinner table?"

Thayer laughed. "What would Wynne say?"

He took no offense to their refusal to join the Wardens. In truth, it was probably safer that way. After all, there was no risk of them dying in the ritual if they never did it. And even if they weren't Wardens, they could still be of great help in rebuilding the order. Between the two of them there was a vast pool of knowledge in how to kill with stealth and precision—something neither he nor Alistair was particularly adept at doing.

Leliana did her best impression of Wynne, even going so far as to fold her arms over her chest and frown disapprovingly. "Talking about killing at the dinner table is poor manners. Now, Zevran, eat your food."

They all shared a laugh. Things weren't quite the same without their other companions for the trip, but between the four of them, a special camaraderie had formed. They were well balanced in some ways, and complementary in others. One's weaknesses were another's strengths. The only thing Thayer wished for was someone with a stronger grasp of healing magic. His wasn't terrible, but it was far from the natural skill that Wynne had.

"I wonder how she's doing. We'll have to stop at the Circle Tower and see what kind of progress she's made."

"Just another duty to add to the list, right?" Alistair grinned. "You've got how many now?"

"Enough," Thayer said. He snorted. "But first, I'd like to enjoy Val Royeaux a little bit more before we have to get back to work. We were nonstop for a year. We deserve at least one day more of relaxation."

Zevran clapped his hands together. "That's the spirit! Let's get us some more drinks. It is going to be a fun night."

. . . . .

"Good night, you two. We'll see you in the morning! Ow! Zevran, that was my foot…"

Thayer grunted with effort as Alistair tried to guide him into their room. He didn't know why it was such a big deal for Leliana or Zevran to see him with Alistair's hands on him, but he felt strangely modest. Maybe he didn't feel ready to tell them. Maybe he just felt embarrassed.

"Alistair, really, I can get in the room quite fine on my own."

"Yes, well, I just want to have my hands on you. I hope that's not a problem."

Alistair wore a playful smirk as he gently pushed Thayer into their room. It was late, far later than either usually stayed up, and they were still drunk from their rounds downstairs with their companions. The two rogues were more or less in their room when Alistair had begun to nudge him inside, but Thayer still felt that shock of anxiety coursing through his veins.

He realized what his problem was: he was scared they would judge them.

Part of him thought, How ridiculous of an idea is that? And yet, another part of him felt the danger was very real.

The worry faded slightly when Alistair shut the door behind them and brought Thayer close against his body. There had been one or two times in the past where Alistair had done the same thing, but under very different circumstances. He wasn't protecting Thayer from anything now—he simply wanted him near.

"You're very warm," Thayer commented.

"I tend to be like that with alcohol in me," Alistair commented. "The Grand Cleric would be ashamed to see me now. Somehow, that makes it all the better." He leaned in and kissed Thayer's forehead.

"You've always liked a little bit of danger."

"More fun that way."

Thayer wrapped his arms around Alistair's neck and began walking backward toward one of the beds. He ended up tripping over his own foot and fell onto the soft surface with Alistair coming along for the ride. The weight from the blond's body nearly knocked the wind out of him. The mage let out a gasp, then a laugh, closing his eyes.

Alistair shifted to lie beside him.

"I think I'm beginning to enjoy this relationship thing," Alistair said. "It's…indescribable, this feeling of closeness. Just being near you gets me all warm and fuzzy inside."

At first, the mage didn't respond. He simply laid his head beside Alistair's arm, feeling his warm body heat. As he set his hand on the other's hip, Thayer said, "You've no idea how long I've waited for this."

Being drunk was certainly counterproductive to keeping his feelings secret. Thayer didn't regret having said that, but that didn't mean he didn't feel embarrassment. Thankfully for him Alistair chortled.

"It's strange. This progression feels so natural, I wonder why it didn't happen sooner."

"We had a lot to worry about," Thayer explained. "Our personal feelings often took a backseat to everything else. But it matters little now. Here we are, in the moment. Let's enjoy it." He opened his eyes and shifted on the bed so that he could kiss Alistair's ear and neck.

"Oh…well, I could agree to that." He shivered. "My, that tickles…"

. . . . .

Thayer awoke that morning feeling much warmer than usual. As his consciousness began to clear, he realized it was due to the fact that Alistair was wrapped around him. He couldn't much remember what had happened the night before—not just yet, anyway. Instead of worrying about it, he just sighed comfortably and closed his eyes once more, enjoying the sensation.

That is, until Alistair started snoring.

He was able to weather it for a few minutes. Eventually it became too much. Thayer rolled over, nearly falling off the side of the bed in the process. A twin mattress wasn't exactly big enough for two full-grown men. All of his moving around roused Alistair, who buried his face in the pillow and groaned quietly.

"Revered Mother, please let me sleep in a little longer…"

"Revered Mother," Thayer sniggered. Now that he was facing Alistair he reached out and nudged the other's bare chest. "Oy. Wake up. This isn't the Revered Mother."

Alistair's face emerged from the surface of the pillow several moments later. His bleary eyes blinked several times to gain focus. Down the right side of his face ran a red indent mark from the folds of the pillow. He looked lost.

"Thayer?"

"Yes. Welcome to my bed."

"Ooh, how naughty." Alistair cleared his throat and looked around him. He groaned quietly. "My head hurts. I shouldn't have drunk so much last night."

"I don't know that you did. You must just be a lightweight."

"Watch it, or I'll knock you out of the bed with my light weight." Alistair was well aware that in size he had Thayer beat. The mage, though just as tall, was slimmer due to his lack of physical training. When push came to shove it wasn't hard to knock him over.

Alistair leered, but it lost its edge due to his being half awake.

"So I don't really remember how we got into your bed together, but I imagine we behaved ourselves. Only my shirt is off, and that's how I usually sleep."

"I suppose it depends on what you mean by 'behaved ourselves'." Thayer investigated a mark on Alistair's neck he'd just seen a moment before, now with a bit more scrutiny. Sure enough, it was red and patchy. He pointed at the mark. "I don't know if I did."

"What?" Alistair tried to look at where Thayer was pointing but it didn't work; he couldn't stare at his neck. He felt the spot gingerly with his fingertips. "What is it?"

Thayer smiled coyly. "You might get up and look for yourself."

The warrior stumbled up and out of the bed with a comical near-run in with the dresser. He stared at himself in the full-length mirror for a few moments before he realized what it was Thayer had pointed at. His bright eyes went wide, and Alistair let out a yelp.

"Thayer!"

"What?" the mage asked innocently.

"You know what! You know very well what!"

Alistair was acting almost like an embarrassed teenager. Briefly Thayer wondered what the other had been like at that age. Had he always exaggerated this much? It was amusing.

"I can't hide this!" Alistair rubbed the spot over and over, as if trying to wipe it away. When it went nowhere, he let out an exasperated grunt.

"Oh, calm down," Thayer said, sitting up in the bed. "Come here, and I can fix it for you."

"How can you fix this?" Alistair whined. His poking and prodding had increased the redness of the area.

Thayer reached out, took hold of the other's hand once he was close enough and guided him to sit down beside him. Alistair's skin was flushed pink. This had clearly upset him. Still, Thayer couldn't help finding it funny. He'd been through this before, but Alistair hadn't. He needed to have his moment.

"All right, I need you to close your eyes and think with me that the spot doesn't exist, all right?" Alistair nodded. "Okay. Close your eyes and picture the mark gone. Keep thinking about it."

Thayer extended his index and middle fingers, bringing them close together. Closing his eyes, he began to gently stroke the mark as if he were painting over it. With each brush of his fingers the redness disappeared bit by bit until it faded away completely. He opened his eyes and admired his handiwork. Glamouring took a lot of focus; he was surprised he'd done such a good job this early in the morning.

"Now," he began, "this will disappear in a while. Glamours don't really last, and only the best illusionists can maintain them over long periods of time. I don't practice this often so I doubt it will even last through the day, but if it starts to fade, I can redo it."

Alistair couldn't see the mark clearly and so he got up to view it in the mirror. He tentatively touched where it had been, astonishment in his eyes. He turned around to Thayer and smiled. "You can really do a lot, can't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Magically." Alistair stepped close and took a seat on his own bed, reaching down between them to collect his cotton button up shirt. He slipped into it. "I've never really asked you about your spells…only seen them in action. I know you throw a wicked fireball, but this kind of stuff is completely new to me."

"I thought Templars were trained in a little bit of magic," Thayer mused aloud. Then he remembered. "Oh, that's right. You never actually started in with the lyrium, so you didn't get that far."

"Mm-hmm. Part of me is glad, because it means I won't end up like the rest of them. But another part of me will always wonder what kind of things I could have done had I been exposed to it. Nothing as cool as this, though." He grinned.

Thayer felt his cheeks turn pink. He smiled again, looking down for a moment. "None of it really intrigues me anymore. Well, most of it, I guess I should say. Magic I know. It's the world around me I don't."

Admitting that aloud felt strange. He'd always known it to be true, but he'd always avoided verbal confirmation of the fact that he'd lived in the Circle Tower for the majority of his life. Only in this last year had he seen Ferelden and what it had to offer. And even then, he hadn't seen it all. There were still so many things to see, so many places to travel to.

"Well, once we rebuild the order, I promise you we'll go visit other places. Wherever you want to go."

"Really?" Thayer couldn't help sounding eager.

"You have my word, love." Alistair moved to sit beside him on the bed. He cocked his head, seemingly having caught what he said. "Love. I just called you that. Huh. Strange, but it fits, doesn't it?"

The mage nodded. "I like it."

With a smile of his own, Alistair said, "Somehow, I thought you might."

. . . . .

Leliana bounded in front of Thayer and the others. "Come on, we'll be late!"

How the mage had missed out on the fact that the great holiday of Satinalia—better known as Feastday—was today, he hadn't the slightest idea. It was only when Leliana reminded him at breakfast that he recalled. Feastday had never been a big deal in the Circle, as pranks usually ended up with someone getting hurt. However, his first Feastday outside of the tower had been rather enjoyable, and he remembered it well.

According to Leliana, however, one hadn't truly experienced Feastday until they did so in Orlais.

That seemed to be the way she felt most days. Thayer found it strange, considering how she'd fled the country in the first place. But that had been ages ago, and he knew from listening to her talk that she missed it at times. Maybe things were better in Orlais, at least when it came to celebration. Maker knew they were an extravagant culture.

For the first time in ages, the four of them were dressed to impress. Leliana wore a beautiful tapered dress with a mesmerizing pattern of reds, blues and purples. Zevran was done up in embroidered black silk with elegant golden stitching. He wore his hair pulled back completely, which accentuated his high cheekbones and pointed ears. He could easily pass as nobility, had elves such a status. Thayer himself chose a tightly woven cotton robe, dyed a beautiful royal blue.

Of course, his eyes were focused mainly on Alistair. He wore the same outfit he'd donned at the ceremony after the archdemon's defeat: a forest green hand-woven cashmere shirt and a nice pair of finely woven dark cotton pants. Only once or twice had Thayer ever seen Alistair dressed up. He knew the warrior preferred not to in most cases, feeling like he was on show. But for a night like tonight, he had made an exception.

That might have been Thayer's doing…

"So, where are we going tonight?" Alistair asked.

"Everywhere," Leliana replied airily. "Feastday in Val Royeaux feels like a never-ending event. There are booths upon booths of wonderful food, of great presents, of all kinds of things…the night is ours to enjoy!"

As they walked along the busy cobblestone pathway Thayer caught sight of Alistair absentmindedly rubbing the side of his neck. He had glamoured the mark away once more just before they left, but Alistair had been obsessing about it all day. It was funny how the smallest things seemed to get under his skin the worst.

They traveled through the magnificent booths in a group, breaking apart here and there to look at different things within the same small area. Leliana was enchanted by a jeweler who was selling finely crafted necklaces and bracelets, while Zevran rummaged through several sets of shoes sitting on the edge of another booth. Thayer didn't know quite where to begin; the stands surrounding him had everything imaginable.

"Oh!" Alistair nudged him and pointed to a booth right beside Leliana. Thayer followed, surprised to see that the warrior had gotten all excited over…finger puppets.

"Want to start your own one man play?" Thayer teased.

"Ha, ha. Funny. These are adorable."

After they greeted the booth keeper Alistair began looking through what he had to offer. There were finger puppets of all kinds: human, dwarves, elves, animals—and they were all very well crafted, too. He picked up one up and admired the handiwork. The stitching was topnotch, as was the attention to detail. This particular elven puppet must have been Dalish, because it carried a bow and had tattoos along the side of its face.

"How much are these?" Alistair asked eagerly. "Ooh! What about this one?" He held up a puppet clearly decorated as a Grey Warden.

"Three silver apiece," the booth keeper said. "Except for these ones here,"—he gestured to the ones on the far right, which must have been caricatures of nobility, given how they were dressed—"these are ten silver."

"Ten silver. Whew, for finger puppets? Three I can do."

Seeing Alistair get so excited about the finger puppets made Thayer smile. He thought it would be a great way to say he was sorry for what happened earlier with the mark. So, before Alistair could reach for his money, Thayer slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved three silver. "Here, we'll take the one he has."

Alistair shook his head. "No, Thayer, it's all right, I can get it."

"No, really, let me." Thayer gave the booth keeper the silver, using his other hand to stop Alistair from searching for his own. "It's my treat. Happy Feastday."

The grin on his companion's face was so wide, Thayer thought it might split his face. He couldn't help laughing. Alistair took the puppet and slipped it onto his index finger, giggling excitedly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. This little guy is going to be great."

Thayer gripped Alistair's shoulder, letting his hand linger momentarily before guiding him over to where Zevran was. The assassin had moved on from boots and had found a booth serving fine spirits. Thayer didn't recognize any of the bottles, but Zevran looked like he might burst with joy, so clearly, he did.

"You must be joking. It's impossible to find this nowadays."

"No, my good friend, I am not. That is a fine bottle of rare Antivan brandy. One of the last of its kind, seeing as the—"

"The creator died some time ago. Yes, I am very aware."

Thayer raised an eyebrow and looked at the collection of dark bottles of varying shapes and sizes. The one in Zevran's hand was about the size of an average bottle of wine, and seemed quite ordinary. However, Zevran was clutching on to it like he desperately needed it.

"How much?" he inquired.

"Five sovereigns," the booth keeper replied. He, too, was an elf, and had an Antivan accent. His dark brown hair cascaded around his face to his shoulders. "The price has gone up, but it is still worth every last bit."

"Five sovereigns!" Zevran looked to Thayer and Alistair. "Highway robbery. I'd applaud him if I didn't want this damn brandy so badly."

"What's so special about it?" Alistair asked.

"It's a taste you won't find anywhere else. It hits all the flavors on your tongue, and leaves you with a warm aftereffect. If he had any to sample, I would ask for you to try it. Once you taste it, you'll be hooked forever."

"Antivans," Alistair murmured in amusement.

"My friend, I only have…" Zevran jingled the coins in his pocket, revealing three gold pieces, "three sovereigns. Would you take three?"

"I'm sorry, but it's five or nothing. There are plenty of people who are willing to pay even more, in fact. I'm giving you a steal!"

Thayer felt around inside his breast pocket where he kept his own money. Sure enough, he felt two large coins—sovereigns—in there. It was definitely an extravagant amount of money for just one bottle, but given all that Zevran had done for him, Thayer figured it would be a good way of saying thank you.

"Here," he said to the elf, handing him two sovereigns.

"Really?" Zevran raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You cannot be serious."

"I am. Consider it a belated thank you for everything you've done to help me."

Zevran, for once, didn't seem to know what to say. He blinked a few times, looked down at the money, and then laughed. "Such a confusing human. First I try killing you, then you spare my life, and now you're feeding my alcohol addiction. You confound me so. Why do you toy with my heart?"

"It's a problem," Thayer said, managing to keep a straight face. "A problem I just cannot fix."

Zevran grinned. "Well, Thayer, let me be the first to tell you, you're a cruel, but lovely human. Whatever man you end up with will truly have a treasure." Thayer and Alistair shared a brief glance, one Zevran missed due to his delight over the brandy. "This is perfect for tonight. Just what I was looking for. I hope you all don't mind, but I have a prior engagement to get to."

"Mm, why am I not surprised," Alistair offered dryly.

"He said so yesterday, don't you remember?" Thayer shrugged his shoulders. "Go on, Zevran, enjoy your evening. Leliana can keep us company."

"Thank you again, really," the assassin said, genuine gratitude ringing in his voice. "I will see you all tomorrow. Stay safe. Enjoy the evening."

Thayer and Alistair watched Zevran disappear within the flowing crowd of people. Adventure and excitement swarmed around them, surging adrenalin through the mage's body. He could handle crowds, but he had to remind himself to keep his focus. Any unplanned jerks of his hand could send a jet of flame or ice if he didn't remain under control.

Alistair began looking around them. In the process he laid his hand upon Thayer's shoulder. "Where is Leliana, now that you mention her?"

"I just saw her right over there." Thayer pointed just over his shoulder. When he turned around, she was nowhere in sight. He blinked. "She was looking at jewelry. Where did she go?"

"Wait, isn't that her?" Alistair pointed at her across the busy pathway at Leliana, who appeared to be following someone into a narrow alleyway. Thayer knew by the way she was moving that she was sneaking after them. Who was it? Why was she following them?

"I'd recognize the dress anywhere. Let's go."

The two men started to weave their way in and out of the crowd. Thayer grabbed Alistair's hand as a means of keeping the two of them close together, pushing through the numerous Orlesians grouped around the booths and along the pathway. It didn't take long for them to find the alleyway down which Leliana had disappeared, but after they ran down it they soon came upon a split path.

"Which way to go?" he asked.

"We could split up."

"Never safe. Let's—"

From the right came a clatter. Thayer, still gripping on to Alistair's hand, headed that way down the dark, narrow path. He stopped immediately when he heard a woman's voice.

"It was foolish of you to come back here, Leliana. The Orlesian government may have given up on finding you but your reputation did not die among the minstrels and bards. Did you think we would not know you were here? We know everything."

Leliana's voice came softly, like velvet. "Mm, am I supposed to believe that? It took you how many days to finally approach me? Either you just now found out I was here, or you were all too scared to cross me."

"Who is she talk—"

"Shh." Thayer brought a finger to his lips. Any sound would likely bring focus to them, and he didn't want to put Leliana in danger. Curiosity urged him to move closer, to see who was speaking, but he knew better. He stayed put.

The woman's voice grew irritated. "Believe you me when I tell you that it is neither. We simply waited for the right moment to strike. What you did to Marjolaine…c'est incroyable. After all that she did for you. We will make you pay."

Thayer heard a shink! He felt his heart sink. Whoever she was speaking to had drawn their dagger. Before he had a chance to react he heard a gruesome squish, followed by a splatter. Thinking the worst, Thayer gave in and bolted for the opening around the corner just a few yards away from him. Alistair's call behind him fell on deaf ears.

When the mage came across the scene he was surprised by what he saw. Leliana wasn't the one on the stone below. Rather, it was the woman she had been speaking to. Scarlet red blood poured from a slit across her throat and pooled beside her lifeless body.

Leliana turned around, the dagger's blade flat against her forearm. There was an edge to her eyes that faded once she saw who stood before her.

"Oh, Maker," she breathed.

"Leliana, do you—"

"Down!"

Thayer's natural reaction was to listen, and so he ducked to the ground. Something whisked past him in the air and hit a nearby wooden wall with a heavy thud. When he looked over his shoulder he saw a woman dressed in black, a dagger in each hand. Her quick, fluid movements got her up and over Thayer and Alistair in a mere moment. Her daggers clinked with Leliana's, and the battle started anew.

"Damn it, why don't I have my sword?" Alistair cursed.

Thayer said, "Just keep watch over the alleyway, more may be coming!"

He turned around, pausing at the fight before him. Leliana and the woman repeatedly blocked and parried one another's attacks, moving so fast that they nearly blurred together. He wanted to help, but he had no idea how to hit the spy without hitting his friend. The two of them fought valiantly, each grunting with effort in an attempt to overpower the other. Thayer couldn't help but stare in awe at their skill.

And then finally came an opening. Leliana pinned the woman to the wall and headbutted her, hard. It left the woman temporarily dazed. Thayer focused on the cold air around him, pulling it into a concentrated essence that he then magically shot directly at the spy. She cried out in surprise as she froze from head to toe.

Leliana, winded, took this time to catch her breath. Thayer moved close to her and helped her stand. She was bleeding; a nasty gash ran along her right forearm.

"Thank you," she said. "I wasn't expecting…"

"We're here," Alistair said. He moved toward the spy. With a grunt and a focused kick to her center he shattered her into dozens of pieces that clattered on the ground beneath them.

"We need to get this healed…" Thayer gazed at her wound. "I have some soothing balms upstairs that we can use. For now…" He laid his hand carefully atop the gash, seeing it mend in his mind's eye. Healing magic was hard for him, but after several moments of intense concentration, her skin began to slowly mend itself. Once he finished he felt light headed.

"Let's get back to the inn," Alistair said. His eyes kept darting from side to side. He put a hand on both Leliana's and Thayer's shoulders.

Thayer and Leliana looked at one another, somber.

Things were about to get much more complicated.