The Joys of Family Life

As surprising as it may have been, Valeria found she was actually glad to be out of the city and back at camp. Arl Eamon had advised her to take Alistair and leave civilization; at least until he could rally enough support for Alistair to keep the lot of them safe. And so Valeria and her friends renewed their acquaintanceship with the Blackstone Irregulars, who had agreed to keep a watchful eye on their trail while the wardens completed some of the organization's errands that required a delicate hand. It was a way to keep busy and earn a few coins while they waited for Eamon's signal to return.

And so they returned to the familiar. Traveling by day, staking up their camp at night – complete with Bodahn and Sandal, who had decided, per the elder dwarf, that they belonged with the Grey Wardens more than they did anywhere else. It was their duty to keep the party well stocked – their way of fighting the good fight, as Bodahn had put it.

And tucked within the familiarity of their camp, the stillness of the surrounding forest was soothing. The soft crackling of the cook fire had seemed to lull Alistair to sleep quickly, while Valeria drowsed lightly beside him, enjoying the warmth of his arms and the cool night air against her face. Shadows passed unhurriedly between her tent and the flames; one of their friends had just moved to sit before the fire.

She would miss this, when it was all said and done. Despite the heavy burden of their mission and of the danger they currently faced, there was a certain freedom in their lives at the moment. Out here on the road there were no nobles or bureaucrats to please. No proprieties to abide by; only each other and the task before them. And while not everyone got along, all were comfortable enough around one another. Here at camp they were all free to act as themselves. Camp was home to them, at least for the time being, to laugh and squabble and speak from the heart; to be open and honest with each other and to not have to fear the consequences beyond a sharp retort here or there. It gave her a sense of family, one she would miss dearly when they finally went their separate ways.

Two thick accents spoke quietly beyond the white canvas. Leliana and Zevran were still awake. It wasn't unusual; they were like owls, the pair of them. Leliana preferred one of the night watches to have time for quiet reflection, while Zevran took the other late night watch stating that he would be up anyway. Valeria sighed and nuzzled further into Alistair's embrace, willing sleep to come.

"-quite surprised. It seems the Chantry Boy has truly come into his own." Zevran's words caught up her ear, and she listened with detached curiosity.

"How do you mean?" Leliana asked, a little absently. Valeria could picture the woman engrossed in the task of fletching arrows as she engaged in polite conversation. She waited for the sound of whetstone on blade – Zevran often honed his weapons on watch.

"Come now. Surely you have already spoken to our esteemed leader about the wardens' time with a certain… duelist." Wood clattered against stone beyond their canvas shelter and Valeria's breath hitched.

"You-" Leliana caught herself and lowered her voice to nearly a whisper. "You know about that?"

"Isabela and I have a history, one could say." Zevran said, clearly through a smile. "I recently had the pleasure of spending some time in her company again. She told me of an evening just days passed in which she… entertained… two Ferelden Grey Wardens. As there are only two Grey Wardens left native to this country, naturally I was able to deduce who she spoke of." Zevran chuckled heartily. "For all they discourage speaking of the passionate arts, clearly they have no trouble practicing them with a master."

Valeria's face flared hot and she instantly felt like digging a hole within her tent and tunneling out of camp unnoticed.

Around her shoulders, muscular arms tensed, and the heartbeat against her shoulder tripped.

"Oh no…"

"Maker's Breath," Alistair's voice breathed in her ear, "you told Leliana? And tell me I did not just hear that he knows Isabela." Valeria's hands reached up to cover her face as she stifled her embarrassment.

"-think it's wonderful that they can share such an open sense of adventure." Leliana was saying diplomatically. "It speaks highly of the trust they have in each other."

"What it speaks of," Zevran pointed out, "is that our little Ferelden Wardens are not quite as proper as they would have us believe. Valeria… yes, she has spirit. Her break from the mundane does not surprise me so much as it intrigues. Chantry boy, however…" Zevran chuckled and Alistair groaned in Valeria's ear. "Perhaps I could arrange for an invitation to their next festivities." The elf continued obliviously.

"They won't invite you, Zevran," Leliana's voice was flat. "You're far too deviant for their tastes, I'm sure." Zevran laughed heartily.

"My dear Leliana," he chortled, "if you knew Isabela, you would know that the woman is the very definition of deviant. Why the things that she did with them-"

Valeria roughly pulled the blanket up over her head; pressing the fabric to her ears. At her side, Alistair was rolling onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. She didn't hear this. She wasn't hearing this!

"Zevran!" Through the blanket Valeria could still hear Leliana's words. "Really! Have you no respect for their privacy?"

"Ho-ho! So demands the woman who undoubtedly engaged in fits of girlish giggles with our lovely warden as she confided her adventures in promiscuity to you."

"But not in detail!" Leliana argued, outraged. "She only told me that she and Alistair had… enjoyed the company of another woman. She was pleased to have been able to give such pleasure to the man she loves."

"And how I wished she loved me as passionately," Zevran sighed, "oh the thought of those women taking me as they did the Chantry Boy-"

"I told you they would talk!" Alistair bemoaned to his lover plaintively. "What did I say? That very first night I told you they would talk!"

"I remember!" Valeria hissed. "Don't pretend to be the innocent victim here – you could have said no."

"Riiiiight," the templar countered, "because I stood a nug's chances in the deep roads of being strong enough to turn down the pair of you, all naked and-" his words died, and he pressed a hand to Valeria's lips when she pulled the blanket from her head to find out why he stopped in mid-thought.

"Well, go on," an Antivan accent spoke from just outside their tent. "All naked and what?" Beyond him, they could hear Leliana moan in dread; clearly knowing what was to come.

Her blood set to a rolling boil and Valeria sat up, retrieving The Rose's Thorn from beside her pillow. "This is the part where I'm supposed to feed him to the darkspawn, right?"

Alistair eyed the shadow darkening the canvas flap heatedly. "That was the plan, yes." He growled.

"On it." Valeria crawled over the templar's reclined body towards the tent exit with murder in her thoughts.

She listened to a velvet chuckle as it hurried away from their shelter, deciding that their family would not suffer if it lost just one member...

Fin

Just a little something that popped into my head. Lucky it did so today – I was getting ready to start posting the chapters that mark "the point of no return" in the plotline. Yes… we are coming close, aren't we?