Chapter 8: Match-making in the process.

A/N: I apologise for the chapter being a little too indulgent—well—people have to come clean before they can move from the awkward phase to the hot, steamy bits. Hehehe.

Daylen

I was mortified—my screams had woken the whole first floor, and the fact that everyone had made up other excuses for being awake made it worse. Still, I was grateful that Kiera had rushed in to wake me up, even if she had broken the lock in the process— while holding that vicious-looking blade she loved so much. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling, the fact that all of them came running as if I was in danger, but it was also… so very emasculating. We had the fireplace going with a quick blast of flame.

"So… Alistair, we have to tell you a few things." Kiera's voice, although low, broke through my thoughts of self-pity. The man looked vaguely alarmed, perched awkwardly at the edge of the bed. Kiera had thoroughly snuggled up in the sheets, hugging her knees whilst facing him; and somehow I knew that it was her pose that disturbed him more than her words. He was blushing, faintly, in the firelight—and tried not to look directly at her.

"Ah… um well… I think I already know, actually." He looked resigned, and hung his head—as if waiting for some severely bad news.

"You do? That's a surprise… And here I was thinking that we kept it on the… quiet," she was confused, as was I. What did he already know?

"It's… kind of obvious, you know. I bet even Leliana—"

"Leliana knows? Was it… that… apparent?" Kiera's panic-stricken eyes flicked to mine, but I was equally horrified.

"That you two have a thing for each other? Yeah." Alistair sighed, depressed, having got off the bed and started towards the door. We stared at him. It was such a strange thought, that anyone could picture us even… remotely involved.

Kiera reacted first, by laughing, hard. And I would have been slightly offended, if I wasn't doing the same. "Wait—you and Leliana think—that the two of us—us—oh Maker that's hilarious—I can't breathe—" She choked out, holding her sides, almost falling off the bed—grabbing Alistair (who was halfway out the door) and leading him back.

Poor Alistair. He gaped at us, confused by our mirth. He also seemed somewhat relieved. Well that wouldn't last very long. "The thing we want to tell you is that… well it's more of a concern for the Grey Wardens—so we weren't kidding about the official bit." I managed to get that entire bit out, while still gasping for air.

"So… what is it?" He posed his question warily, when we could finally straighten our aching faces.

"Oh… yes. Um… After your Joining, did Duncan say anything about doing 'whatever was necessary' to fight darkspawn?" Kiera was suddenly very solemn, her words revealed the amount of thought she had put into this.

"Yes, he… did. Duncan said that as Grey Wardens, our duty was to—defeat darkspawn, at all costs… What's this about—exactly?" He was suspicious, and rightfully so. Many of the things Kiera had told me about the Grey Warden order weren't exactly as glorious as the tales of old.

"So… you understand that sometimes we have to resort to—ah—not so popular methods in order to—" I wasn't quite sure how to put it… I wasn't exactly a representative of the 'let's-be-maleficars' collective.

Kiera rolled her eyes, and continued for me. "How do you feel about blood magic?"

"What?" Not surprisingly, the ex-templar was scandalized. "Wait… is this like that question about mages in the Tower?" He appeared to be thinking; apparently Kiera had already shared her views about the Ferelden treatment of mages.

"Well… yes, and no." She reddened delicately, looking away whilst she bit her lip, thinking hard. Jowan and I had never mentioned to her about how that one sideways look could rend hearts from men she hadn't even spoken to—and Alistair was watching her anxiously, knowing full well that he had been snared.

xOxOx

Kiera

Frankly, I was quite worried about Alistair's response—he was a chantry boy after all, and honestly, I didn't know why I cared so much about what he thought. Maybe it was because he was the first Grey Warden around my age (other than Daylen, of course) that I had met, but I was actually quite nervous as to how he would react to this.

"So… how is this about blood magic?" Alistair's voice was low, cutting into my thoughts. My nerve was wavering, and I noticed that Daylen was giving me a strange look, before replying on my behalf.

"Yes—we—"

"So that's what you people were surreptitiously talking to Jowan about!" Alistair paused and I looked up at him, noticing that his jaw was clenched; and even at a moment like this, I felt part of my mind thinking idly. He looks so manly when he's hot and bothered. I shook my head free of such nonsense, figuring that it wasn't going to be quite so attractive if that was directed towards me.

Daylen snorted. "Jowan's… not the best person to ask, especially that—we have—" I panicked, and jabbed an elbow into his side, and his words cut off with a grimace. If Alistair was going to find out about this, it would better for me to tell him. "I… I am also a blood mage." I couldn't look at him, and hung my head. He was silent for a very long time.

Alistair

I couldn't speak, and I was also very certain that none of us would be sleeping at all for the rest of the night. She—a maleficar. I… really didn't know what to think. What to say. She sure didn't look like one, not evilly like Morrigan, nor the half-crazed ones at the Tower. I had a lot more questions to ask, but seeing her, looking so—innocent and lovely—kept me tongue-tied, for fear of offending her.

Daylen, on the other hand, was very willing to talk—and was defending her again, even if he didn't really need to, in my own opinion. "I know she'll only use blood magic on darkspawn, and since it's mostly a weapon for Grey Warden matters, Alistair, you shouldn't—"

"Actually… I did use blood magic on a human, just the once." Kiera murmured, cutting Daylen off. Her voice seemed so very light, and yet sounded utterly miserable.

They shared a long look, and I saw a growing realization on Daylen's face.

I couldn't help it anymore, and blurted "Now what was that? Are you going to tell me what that look was about? Who did you use blood magic on—exactly? Isolde? Connor? Oh Maker—Teagan?" I hated the sound of my accusatory voice—I sounded like a demanding child.

"You. I used blood magic on you." Kiera gazed directly into my eyes. "Back at the Tower—Uldred—I saw you get hit. I heard a fatal, bone-crunching sound—and then you weren't breathing, you didn't have a pulse—I… I didn't know what else to do, so I… slit my palm… and—" The expression in her eyes turned to one of a pleading desperation, I could see her genuine sincerity—her emotions in that one moment—filled her lovely eyes.

"Please don't… hate me." She whispered. Oh Maker— what have I done? She was miserable because of me.

Kiera

And so I burst into tears, in front of an alarmed Daylen, and a severely confused Alistair. I never used to cry, not in front of anyone—at least not genuine tears. It was… horrifying to say the least, and I always thought that I was strong, but Alistair—Andraste's blood—Daylen— Alistair, the both of them, seemed to make up my weak point. I got off the bed without another word, and wiped my face hastily. I needed to get away from the both of them.

Daylen

Kiera left as fast as she could—she never was one for expressing her feelings. I saw Alistair's face fall as she practically ran out of the room; he was concerned, not appalled at her confession. He was also hopelessly enthralled at the sight of her flashing bare legs.

To be honest, I was rather surprised that Kiera would even break down in front of Alistair—perhaps the attraction he no doubt felt was mutual. How… delightful. All he seemed to need was a nudge in the right direction.

"Hey Alistair." The man turned to face me, still looking shell-shocked. Well it was all or nothing. "Kiera and I are close, but just as siblings. We'd never be… lovers." Predictably, he blushed, a deep crimson red—even by the light of the fire.

"Was… I that… obvious?" He said sheepishly, touching his hair absently as he stood up from the bed.

"Well she might not have noticed, but that's because she…" Then, a thought struck me. "Has she ever given you anything?" If she did, well… that was her… sign.

"What? Um… yes, she gave me a gold figurine when we were at the Tower." He mumbled. I laughed from pure relief.

"Then she likes you. She might not realize it, but she does." That was true, as far as I could tell. She only gave things to people she liked—almost thoughtlessly, but these were always the perfect gifts. I remember that she had once made a giant snowflake—at least that's what she called it, and left it on the floor of the hall, since none of the apprentices could go outside to feel the snow. It was ingenious, for Greagoir and several other templars were amazed at its sheer size, as well as its beauty, that the three of us snuck out of the main doors—and were catching real ones on our tongues before being hauled back into the Tower.

As I was musing over the past, Alistair looked considerably less apprehensive. One final push then.

"Go for it—her, I mean. But, if you end up breaking her heart—I promise you that… I'll… think of a nasty and painful way for you to regret your decision." He blinked. Well, I admit, I wasn't very good at threatening people.

"Yeah—I understand. I won't, big brother." He grinned as he closed the door.

OxOxO

P.S.: My next few days/ weeks are going to be really busy—so I won't be able to update as quickly. Exams. Pfft. Thanks for reading, and please review! :D