"Biddable? The old prick thinks I'm biddable?" Marlana Cousland snarled as she read through the papers she'd found in Ostagar, her eyes blazing with icy rage. "He met me for all of five minutes two years ago when I'm overwhelmed by noble assholes, and he thinks I'm biddable."

There were some uneasy looks exchanged amongst the others in camp at the sudden outburst. It was rare for their leader to yell, but they all knew what that look meant and didn't want to end up being the one to draw her ire. Even though she would feel bad afterwards, none of them really wanted to go through that kind of pain.

Zevran sidled over to Alistair as the templar returned with Sten, the two of them carrying firewood back to make sure they had enough for the night. "Friend Alistair, I think you need to do something to settle down our fearless leader. Or I fear there's going to be a great deal of bloodshed."

She'd stopped yelling, but they could still see her grumbling as she looked through the rest of the papers. The three men watched her warily and Alistair shook his head, not really wanting to get skewered himself, "Maker's breath, what did the lot of you do to set her off like that?"

"Us? We have done nothing. She has, however, been reading some papers and that's when she started yelling about being called biddable. Which, I can assure you, none of us would even think about calling her. Formidable, most certainly, but biddable? I don't think she was biddable even as a child. I'm surprised she even knows the meaning of the word."

Wondering what the elven assassin could be talking about, the tall, muscled young warrior dumped his load of firewood in its spot. Having to remind himself that his love wasn't going to kill him, he walked over to where she was sitting on her pack, still grumbling, and squatted down before her. Very quietly, "Hi there."

Her head went up, eyes still blazing and shoved two pieces of paper into his face, "Read these."

Out of reflex he took them and looked them over. The first was a letter from Eamon to Cailan about how Cailan should put Anora to the side. Mainly because it didn't look like she was going to be producing an heir anytime soon. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, he read the other paper which was part of a list of eligible noblewomen that Eamon thought Cailan should replace Anora with. His head hurt as he read: My suggestion would be Marlana Cousland. Granted she has just reached her age of majority, but her father is one of your strongest allies. She's also said to have some of the same interests that you do and since she's young, she'll be biddable.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as she started to pace angrily, her long braid swishing back and forth, much like the tail of the cat he'd once had. Suddenly some of the questions Eamon had asked about her made a great deal more sense. Then he re-read the part about her just achieving the age of majority and the date of the original letter. While he was a little vague on the current date, that date on the letter was shortly before Cailan summoned his forces to Ostagar and he felt a little guilty. He knew she was younger, but not how much… Feeling that hot eyed glare, Alistair jerked his thoughts back to the letter. If she picked up his guilt, she'd kick his ass.

"Erm. Yes, well. I thought he was a better judge of character than that. Biddable wasn't the first thought I had when I first met you."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "And just what was that?"

"A beautiful woman who'd kick my ass if I looked at her the wrong way," since it was the absolute truth he didn't have to worry about hedging what he was saying.

Lana couldn't help but laugh causing her anger to fade away as he'd hoped. Unfortunately, her ribs still hadn't fully recovered and she hoped he didn't notice the hitch in her breathing at the sharp spike of pain went through her side. But when it was his turn for his eyes to narrow, she knew he hadn't missed anything. Alistair rarely did miss anything when it came to her, and to be fair she found vice versa was true.

Hastily, "I'm fine, Alistair."

"Uh huh", he didn't look at all convinced; even worse, he was getting that overprotective look in his eyes.

"So want to tell me why you looked guilty for a moment there?"

A slightly wicked gleam came into his eyes, she wasn't used to be on the receiving end of that expression, and he purred slightly, "Tell you what. You let me fuss a bit and promise not to yell, and I'll tell you. And we'll just pretend you haven't been over exerting yourself. Or…"

Curious, and a little nervous, "Or what?"

"I tell Wynne you haven't listened to her orders about taking it easy."

She sputtered, "You are a royal bastard."

He just grinned at her.

"Okay, fine, I promise I won't yell and you can do some fussing. Not a lot."

Lana found herself tucked up in their combined bedrolls with an extra blanket on top for good measure with Alistair wrapped around her lightly running his fingers through her hair. Thankfully he hadn't insisted that she pull on any extra clothes like he did the night she'd been near crushed by the undead ogre, otherwise she'd be roasting, instead of being only slightly over warm. Not that she would willingly admit to anyone, it was nice to be fussed over from time to time, especially since this was the closest they'd been since her injuries five days before. They still slept together, but she missed the intimacy. Not that she'd been up for anything the first night, but since then she felt a barrier between them.

"So…are you going to tell me what that guilty look was for?"

He made a rueful grunt, "You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"I let you fuss didn't I?"

She could feel his grin, "So you did." He sobered, "I didn't realize, just, well, er, your age."

Confused, "My age? What about it?"

She was going to kick his ass for this, he knew it, but went ahead since he'd already opened that particular can of worms, "I didn't realize how much younger you are."

Marlana leaned back enough to glare up at him with one blue eye, the other covered by her hair, but her voice was merely exasperated, "Alistair, I am an adult."

"But the fact I'm that much older than you doesn't bother you."

Despite the glare, there was a flash of dimple as she grinned at him, "I figure it makes us about even." Then more seriously, "Alistair, you have to understand, being my father's daughter meant I knew from an early age I was likely to marry for duty. That whomever I did get married off to was likely to be much older. Five years is nothing as far as I'm concerned."

Relieved that she'd only glared and not kicked his ass, Alistair relaxed and cuddled her closer. Absently he ran his fingers further down her back, but stopped when he felt the beginning of the wounds on her back from where the nails of the ogre had dug in. She didn't look up as she said sadly, "Is that why you've barely touched me? I know that scars aren't exactly attractive on women."

Andraste's flaming sword, the former templar thought with annoyance at himself and her, he still couldn't avoid stepping in it with her.

Tightly, "No, you've been badly hurt, and that kind of exertion is going to rip everything open. I'm not going to hurt you anymore than I already have." He still kicked himself for not realizing what being inexperienced meant for a woman.

"I'm as healed as I'm going to get, not even Wynne could prevent the scarring that happened. At least on my back, the ribs are still a little tender, but nothing serious as long as we're careful."

Scars then, not wounds, he felt sick. Not because she had scars, it was to be expected with the life they lead, she was still Marlana. She still had that blazing spirit of fire and ice. Still had that big heart, still cared too much for everyone she considered under her care. He felt sick because his worst nightmares came true and she didn't blame him like she should. All he could do was hug her, unable to speak but not wanting her to take his silence as rejection.

Lana buried her face into his throat as she tucked her head under his chin, so her voice was muffled, but she'd picked up on his uneasiness. Not sure of the cause she tried to cheer him up, "Did I ever tell you that you're the one bright spot in everything that has happened?"

She hesitated when he still didn't say anything, because he couldn't. He wondered if she knew she was the only person who'd managed to rob him of his innate glibness on a regular basis. Wondering if she was going to make things more awkward between them, she continued on, "It's true. I didn't want to be a Warden, but I agreed because it was my father's dying wish. Once I would've said I would give everything up to have my family back, but I can't say that now. Because it'd mean giving you up, and I can't do that. At least you made it worthwhile to drink from that damned chalice."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, unaware of how it tickled his skin, and warmed it. Warmed other parts as well, but he wasn't going to act on that yet, not sure if he could. When he felt her subtly shift her hips against him, he realized just how warmed up he'd gotten and that she noticed. Noticed and shifted closer, this wasn't helping him stay a gentleman to his wounded lady.

"Alistair, I want you to know that you're not just the keeper of my heart, but the brighter half of my soul. Without you, I think I would've turned into one of the monsters we're trying to stop."

He kissed her then and found something to say after all, "I love you."

And was very glad he neglected to mention that he found and kept the Joining chalice. She would've kicked his ass for that.

Author's note: I promise, enough of the angst and brooding. For now anyway!