Traveling with him again, being so near to him without a quick avenue of escape left Elishka on edge. Sleep was probably advised but she knew there was no way that her mind would allow it. She needed a distraction. She needed a hot bath and a bottle of wine. The best she could do would be a cold dip in the lake. She'd also have to go thirsty as wine was not on the list of items that they managed to grab before leaving Redcliffe.

She wiggled out of the tent as quietly as possible, leaving Zevran with whispered promises that she would return later. Only two guards were awake, both on watch. She nodded once to them and tromped through a small cluster of trees separating the camp site from the shoreline of the lake.

In the hurry of packing, she had not managed to grab anything proper to sleep in and had to instead wear one of Zevran's shirts. As she removed it, a chill shook her body, the cool air prickling at her skin. Small clothes were shirked off quickly and tossed atop the discarded shirt.

She tiptoed into the water, cry muffled behind her hand. It was far colder than she had. She sunk deep, diving into the murky waters and submerged herself. An ice bath might be the tonic she needed.

She swam a little further away from the shore and flipped to float on her back, arms spreading out to her side. She had learned to swim in this very lake as a child during her time at the Circle. She wasn't cooped up with books and lessons all the time. Periodically, during those few hot days that Ferelden might experience during the summer, Templars and mages alike would go outside the tower and enjoy a nice swim. The water washed away all barriers. They were no longer Templars or mages . Tensions were checked at the shore.

Her neck craned back allowing her a perfect look at the stars shining bright in the evening sky. Wish upon a star and your dreams will come true. It was the stuff of fairy tales told to little children before the brutality of the world could sink in and corrupt their innocence with its taint of cynicism.

Cullen….

They had spoken relatively little since they found one another in Lothering. The whole 'voices in my head' story had left her uneasy. But the Joining seemed to have cured whatever was ailing Cullen.

Perhaps the taint is good for something other than short life spans and barren wombs.

At some point, they needed to talk about all that happened – his Joining, the Circle murders, his life as a Warden.

My little distraction…

As she closed her eyes, ready to drift in a conscious sleep adrift on the lake, the sound of a twig breaking startled her. She sank into the water, only her head and arms visible as she swam in place. Her gaze dragged along the shoreline, a familiar form hovering at the spot she had dropped her clothing.

Alistair…

"How long have you been there," she spat, her irritation unhidden.

His shoulders rose and fell in shrug. "Not too long. Couldn't sleep. Came out here to take in the…" An all too predictable smile crept upon Alistair's mouth, "…scenery."

Her head shook. Scenery indeed… She could only imagine the image she must have cut floating atop the water with all her naughty bits on display for the world to see. She swam just close enough to the shore to be able to stand while still using the water as a modesty shield. "Well, you've had your show. Maybe you should go back to camp." She waved a hand at him dismissively. It would have been incredibly difficult to not think about the man if he was standing there on the shore.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think I will do that. See, you went and did the stupid thing by making me King. Now I don't have to listen to you and can do whatever I want." Mischief colored his expression. All together too quick, he bent and picked up Elishka's clothes off the ground.

"Yes, well that was certainly a mistake, wasn't it?" She let out an exasperated sigh. "Put my clothes down and just go away. I was having a perfectly relaxing moment before you arrived."

He toyed, "Oh yes, I can see how floating around in a frigid lake late at night can be relaxing." His head tilted, eyes glossing over the garments in his hands. "No, I don't think I'll let you have these just yet. I want to talk to you and seeing as you aren't liable to listen to me otherwise, I may as well take advantage of the situation…in hand." His smile sprung puerile.

For sodding sake….

He was trying to be charming and clever and all it did was infuriate Elishka more and more. Every juvenile smile, every little pun, they only served to stoke the slow burning fire of her mood. "You are acting like a little spoiled brat."

"I may be, but you are going to listen to me all the same." Clothing was held up in tease.

She was done. It was enough. All he was succeeding in doing was picking at scabs that were not quite ready to be shed. Her eyes cinched shut tight for a moment as a deep draught of air was pulled deep into her lungs. Heavy and filled with resignation, she sighed and began to walk out of the water. He had seen her naked before. He had just seen her naked moments before. He was not going to hold her clothing ransom as some way to make her talk to him. King or not, he could go die in a fire and just leave her alone. "No, I don't think that I will."

She tried to ignore the way he watched her as she exited the water. She would let him have his little show if it meant getting away from him all the sooner and not having to listen to that voice, that wonderfully intoxicating voice.

Ugh…No.

When she finally stood in front of Alistair, she reached her hand out to take her clothes from his hand. But rather than give it to her, he lifted his arm up in the air and held the garments hostage at heights unattainable. Her reach did not rival his.

"You ready to listen?" And to his credit, Alistair kept his focus intent on her face.

Full well knowing the display that would take place by jumping in the air, she did it anyway. On the first jump, she just barely missed grasping at a small piece of cloth. On her second jump, she didn't even come close. And on the third, she failed all together and instead chest bumped Alistair -- an act that resulted in the pair falling to the ground, she atop him.

His arms immediately encircled her, tugging her body against his. His hands felt warm against the lake chilled body of her skin. "Alistair...let me go."

Cloth dragged along her back, still clutched in the hand that had begun to explore the curve of her backside. "I know you still love me," he whispered.

Her hands pressed into the dirt, an attempt made to push her off Alistair. "So? Maybe I do. But love is for fairy tales and people who get happy endings. I'm a mage. Neither applies to me." Yes, she did still love him. And maybe a part of her always would love him. But it was not enough.

"Stop that." A softness filled his gaze. "You shouldn't discount yourself so. If anyone knows about that sort of behavior it's me. I'm the King of self-loathing." A grin sprung to life. "Oh wait, I'm also the King and I order you to stop that!"

His joking only met with a frown. At another time and another place, Elishka would have been completely charmed by his humor. But at this particular moment, all she felt was the bittersweet sting of wisdom. He had been right that day of the Landsmeet. This could not work. She needed to say it. He needed to hear it. "What happened at Redcliffe shouldn't have happened. I was quite lost in your…." She managed a weak smile, "…charms." Charms was a delicate way of putting it. It was at least more direct than referencing the mythical bucking horse.

His grip upon Elishka loosened, allowing her to move away from him. The feel of his night shirt against her skin as she drew herself away caused her teeth to tug at her lip. She could so easily lose herself in his arms. But then what?

"Do you love him," Alistair asked.

Clothing was put on quickly. She had never really taken the time to consider her feelings toward Zevran. She knew she cared for him deeply. But did she actually love him? "Good night, Alistair." It would be a question for another time and not one she would discuss with Alistair.

As she began back to camp, Alistair called out to her, "I still love you. You should know that."

Her back to him, she stopped brief in her departure. Her heart swelled; her breath hitched. "I'm sorry," rasped hoarse and she continued back to camp, leaving Alistair at the shore. She wasn't exactly sure what she was sorry for – sorry that he still loved her, sorry that she still loved him, sorry that it really didn't matter how they felt. There were so many things to be sorry for. Any one reason would have done.

She drifted through the camp, a quiet mouse seeking its hidey-hole. The guards received no nod – only silence. She slid into the tent and beneath the blankets of the bedrolls she shared with Zevran. He lay there quiet, but not asleep. His arm lazily draped across her as she pressed her back against him. Still chilled fingers sought out Zevran's hand, entwining their length about his fingers and tugging them to rest against her belly.

Zevran had stayed with her through the Blight and beyond. Others may have questioned his loyalty, but she never did. She saw something in him that day on the Imperial Highway that compelled her to save him and he had not let her down yet. He had been good to his oath, good to her. And for that, she was thankful. "Thank you, Zev. For everything."

His face nuzzled against her neck, his mouth nipping soft at her skin. "Shhhhhhh, do not ruin a perfectly wonderful moment by doing something so foolish as to talk about feelings." And at that moment, she knew just maybe she was beginning to fall in love with Zevran…just a little.