21. An Interesting Proposition

It takes us almost two hours to find Zevran. Jowan and I are both exhausted by the time we run into the assassin.

"It appears you found your darkspawn, my dear minx," he comments as he takes in the ichor and blood splashed across my armor. "How many were there?"

"Nine," I manage, leaning back and trusting my weight to the tree behind me. "I thought I could handle them, but there was an emissary I hadn't seen at first, so he had to rescue me." I nod my head toward Jowan.

Zevran raises an eyebrow at the blood smeared across the front of Jowan's shirt. "Are you all right, my friend?"

Jowan nods. "I'm fine. It's not as bad as it looks. I just didn't have anything else to use to get the blood off my hand." He pushes up his sleeve so Zevran can see the bandage wrapped around his arm. "One of the darkspawn got lucky. Rahna took care of it."

Zevran's eyebrow rises even higher as he looks at me. "I didn't know you were good with healing, amica."

I shrug. "When we had Wynne, I didn't need to bother. A spirit healer would be much more capable with just about anything than I am."

oOo

"Ow!"

"Stop squirming!" Wynne smacks Alistair's hand away as it instinctively moves to the trio of claw marks on his arm the mage is trying to heal. "Alistair, I won't be able to do anything if you don't hold still!"

I stifle a giggle as I watch the two of them, then wince as Morrigan smears something on the deep scratches on the back of my leg. They're just above my knee, and the angle is too awkward for me to take care of them myself. Alistair and I ran into a pack of blight wolves while we were in the woods. I needed some things to make new poisons, and he volunteered to help me. I was very glad I said yes when the wolves showed up. We killed all of them, but the alpha was sodding hard to take down.

"Must he be so childish?" Morrigan mutters when she sees where I'm looking. "I must admit, I fail to see why you are so attracted to him. Though I'm sure he excels at following orders." The double meaning doesn't escape me, not after my talk with Leliana earlier.

I roll my eyes. "Morrigan, don't start."

"I'm simply saying you could do far better." The witch's tone is scornful as she eyes the ex-templar, who's trying to hold still while Wynne slathers something on his wound and wraps a bandage around it.

I snort in disbelief. "Not sodding likely."

Morrigan laughs. "Well, if you are so sure, I shall cease this line of conversation. For the time being at least." She finishes cleaning the gashes and bandages it.

"Thank you, Morrigan." I stand and test putting weight on the leg. It seems fine. I hardly limp as I cross to where Alistair is still sitting, watching the fire as if hypnotized. I rest one hand on his shoulder. "Can your fair maiden have a kiss, my knight in shining armor?"

"Anything for you, love." He turns as I sit down, wraps one arm around my shoulders, and obliges me in a completely satisfactory manner.

oOo

The memory fades, leaving me smiling at Wynne's admonishments about Alistair not scratching the wound, how she wasn't going to heal it if he opened it up again. He was a bit of a baby about that, I must admit that.

But that's the past. And if I don't let it stay the past, Maker help me, I'll go insane. I turn my attention back to the matter at hand. "Zev, how far do you think we could travel, with what daylight we have left?" He's always been better with this kind of estimation than I am.

"That depends. How tired are you two?"

"I'm fine, but he was using magic like crazy without a staff, and I think he's more worn out than he'll admit." I give Jowan an 'I'm-on-to-you' look and get a sheepish smile in return. "So we need to take that into consideration."

"Rahna, I'll be fine," Jowan protests. "There's these wonderful things known rejuvanation spells. I'm not as good at them as some mages, but I'm good enough to manage."

I sigh. "Fine. You win. I can't really argue with that. So, Zev, if we were to head in the direction of the Anderfels, how far could we get with the daylight we have left?"

He considers for a minute. "We could reach where the Imperial Highway comes near the top end of Lake Calenhad, I believe."

"That's still almost a whole day's walk from the Circle Tower," I reassure Jowan when I see panic flicker across his face. "It'll be fine. I promise." I grin and nudge his good arm. "Not like I'd let anyone do anything to you. You know I do crazy stuff to help my friends."

He smiles back. "All the time."

I feel a minor sense of victory about that smile.

oOo

Just as Zevran estimated, we reach the top end of Lake Calenhad just as the sun disappears behind the trees. The pinkish-orange light hangs on long enough to make our setting up camp much easier. By the time the sky is dark, we have a fire going that gives off more than enough light for me to clean my armor. The ichor started to really smell bad, and this is relatively new armor, at least for me. I shove up the sleeves of my shirt as they slide toward my wrists-and the grey-black goo I'm scraping off the leather-for the umpteenth time. I'm almost done, but it's annoying to have to pause and shove them clear every couple of minutes. I forgot to roll them up before I started, and now my hands are dirty enough I don't dare do more than nudge the sleeves higher with the heel of my hand.

I finally finish and set the armor aside. There's no point in putting it on when I'm going to bed soon. Tonight's Jowan's turn for first watch. I'm seriously tempted to try and bribe Zevran to take it. I know Jowan is more tired than he's letting on, but he'd probably kill me if I played favorites like that.

And I need to talk to him. The more I think about the crazy idea I got after we finished killing all the darkspawn, the more I like the thought of at least asking. So I skirt the campfire and sit next to him. "Hey, Jowan?"

He looks up from staring at that scar again. "Yes?"

"I, um," I take a deep breath. "I had an idea I, um, wanted to, um, run by you."

"I don't think I've ever heard you stutter that many times inside a single sentence before," he points out, small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Well, it's, um, kind of a big deal."

"What?" He looks intrigued. Slightly wary, but still curious.

Another deep breath. I can hardly believe I'm about to ask him this! "I think you should join the Grey Wardens."

I get that same 'You're-completely-insane-aren't-you?' look I got initially for the crazy scheme to make the templars think he was dead. "What?"

I chuckle. "You heard me. I think you should join the Grey Wardens."

"Rahna, are you sure one of those darkspawn didn't thump you on the head? What would make you think I should join the Grey Wardens?"

"Um, the way you saved my life is definitely a contributing factor. You're a talented mage-and we can always uses mages-and I just have this feeling you'd make a good Warden."

"A feeling?"

I sigh. "I can't explain it, all right? You'd just have to trust me."

"But what about what I did?"

"Jowan, I was a murderer and a thief when Duncan recruited me. One of the others who was there to join at the same time as me was a cutpurse who was wanted in Denerim, like wanted dead, when he was recruited, and one of the other Wardens told me they will recruit blood mages. Still practicing blood mages. So what makes you think they would care? Besides, you're done with that."

"But-"

"And if you joined the Wardens, the Chantry couldn't touch you." I let my last-and best-point hang in the air for a full minute, casting a sideways glance at Zevran, who I know is eavesdropping, before I say anything. "At least think about it. We have to head for Weisshaupt anyway, so I can explain the situation to the First Warden. You have a while to think. I know it's not an easy choice, and I'm not going to make you join or stop being your friend if you decide you don't want to." I shrug. "Ask Zevran."

He nods. "I'll think about it. But no pestering me about it. Deal?"

I smile and hold out my hand. "Deal. I won't say a word to you about it 'til you bring it up." We shake on it and he moves off to take his watch.

Zevran chuckles. "Il cielo mi aiuti."

I fix him with a mild glare. "What?"

He shakes his head. "You. You really want to recruit him?"

"Why not? You didn't see him, Zev. I think he's a better mage than he gives himself credit for. He killed just as many of those darkspawn as I did."

"You said there were nine, minx. How does that work?"

"One was a team effort. He froze it, I shattered it. Other than that, four apiece. So there."

Zevran nods contemplatively and stares at the fire for a moment before asking, "So, aside from fire and arcane bolts, what does he have?"

"Well, he paralyzed one, killed the emissary with a lightning bolt, threw at least two stonefists, had an arcane shield up for a few seconds, and used a mind blast spell." I smile wryly. "And I have a feeling he healed up that gash on his arm a little before he let me look at it. Just from the way he was holding it. I know he'd never admit it, though." I toss the small twig I'd been fingering in the fire.

"You care for him, don't you?" Zevran asks, his voice just above a whisper. With a little imagination, I could hear jealousy in that quiet tone.

I shake my head. "Care about him, as a friend who thinks he needs to let go of the past and move on, yes. Care for him, as in romantically, no. I'm not ready to move on, and you know it. I wasn't just using that as an excuse, Zev."

He leans closer. "You know, amica, you're one to talk about people moving on."

"Whaddya mean?" I'm getting suspicious of where this is going.

"You still dream about Alistair, do you not?"

There's nothing mild about this glare. "That's none of your business."

"Minx, you told me you had dreamed about him at Warden's Keep. Don't lie."

"Well, so what if I am? How many sodding times do I have to say I'm not ready to let go yet?"

"As many as you feel you need to say it. I think you say it more to remind yourself than to remind anyone else."

"Wait, you think I don't want to move on? You think I like dreaming about him and knowing, knowing, it's not real and he's dead?" I stare at him incredulously for a second before sighing in exasperation and standing up. "You know what? Forget it. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. You get watch after Jowan." I retreat to my tent and bury myself in my bedroll. The tears start to leak out as I bury my face in the pillow.

It still smells like Alistair.

A/N: According to Google translator, Il cielo mi aiuti = heaven help me. If it wrong just let me know!