Chapter Twenty-five: The Game of Right and Wrong
By the time camp was set, the sun had long passed. While the others prepared themselves for the nights rest, Dorian stood guard. Though the Bricillian no longer held a powerful curse, the ancient woods still set the mages teeth on edge. He felt as if something sinister had taken root within the earth, something almost as twisted as the taint itself.
Elven magic, perhaps?
"Death has made itself a home in this land." The Qunari grunted as he came to take a place by the mage.
"You can feel it as well?" Dorian asked as he continued to stare into the twisted growth.
"Only one who was intent on ignoring the obvious, would not feel something so strong." Sten crossed his arms. "But, yes… I can feel whatever foul magic has taken hold."
"I thought maybe it had something to do with my own magic…" he stared down to his hands. "Or even my taint. But if you can feel it-"
"Unlike bas, I am not unaware of the presence of magic." The Qunari drew his blade and began sharpening the jagged edges.
"Are all Qunari trained to sense magic?" the mage asked, attempting to distract himself.
"Many are, yes. The Qun demands awareness, it prevents the demons from snaking into our minds."
"So, you are like a Templar?"
"No. I am a soldier of the Beresaad. Not an Arvaarad." Sten frowned.
"A mage hunter." Dorian nodded, recalling the title.
"One of their many roles, yes." Sten nodded. "Why do you wish to know such things?" Sten suddenly seemed hostile.
"Because, I respect you." Dorian smiled, unsure why Sten was offended.
"You do not need to know all there is to know about my people, to 'respect' me." Sten snorted at the mages ignorance.
"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But, it at least bridges the boundaries between our cultures. You once told me your people do not understand our ways, and we do not care for yours… Well, perhaps if we tried… wars might be prevented and alliances can be formed."
"War, cannot be prevented." The Qunari shook his fierce head. "Not when certainty is the goal. Certainty, is in the Qun…"
"But, you have spent time with us… surely, you can see peace can be an option?"
"No. Certainty is the only option…" Sten continued to shake his head.
"You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself, Sten…" the mage quietly stated. Sten looked to him, confused and angered.
"Kadan, you alone are worthy… These bas, they cannot be spared." He held his sword firmly to the side, clinging to it for his so called certainty. "You returned my purpose. Once this Blight is over, I will return to my people with honour… I will share the lessons you have taught me and the knowledge I have gained… but, it will change nothing."
Dorian stared to his large companion. A man Dorian had considered not only a friend, but also a mentor. The Qunari doubted him from the start, and yet took the time to teach him how to be a soldier.
"One day… I will return… We, will return." The Qunari finally spoke, only certainty remained.
"And what if we meet again?" Dorian looked up to his friend, a frown settled on his face.
"Then, we will meet on the battlefield…" Sten's mouth curled up slightly. "And I will finally have a worthy opponent. Basalit-an…" the Qunari bowed his head in respect.
Dorian returned the gesture. Though Dorian did not wish to stand against his comrade, he was certain should the time ever come, Sten would not falter. He had learned much about the Qunari people on his travels with Sten, though he was no closer to understanding them. All he was certain, was they were not quite the monsters the Chantry told stories about. Flawed though their belief may be, but could the Chantry be considered any better?
Either culture despises my own kind… so perhaps, they are one in the same.
He bid the Qunari farewell, then returned to camp. Leliana and Alistair bickered playfully while they pitched the final tent, Zevran whistled along as he prepared the nights meal. Though any other night Dorian would have joined his close friends, this night his attention lay elsewhere.
Dorian craned his neck in search of Wynne. He finally noticed the mage sitting as still as stone beside Shale. The two looked as if they were mediating.
Cautiously, Dorian approached, hoping not to startle either. Leliana and Alistair looked up with concern in their eyes, he smiled and waved them off. It was time to put all their concerns to rest.
"What does It want?" Shale grunted in boredom.
"May I join you ladies?" Dorian smiled politely. He looked to Wynne who did not respond.
"The Elder Mage is tired, It requires rest." The Golem responded almost protectively.
Dorian raised his eyebrows. Since Wynne had joined, Shale had seemed almost untrusting of the mage. He hadn't noticed a friendship develop between the two.
Given how busy you have been with worrying over your own relationships, is it truly that shocking to miss a thing or two about the others?
No. I suppose not. I have been a bit preoccupied, I guess.
"I won't disturb her then." He smiled. "I know she needs her rest."
"I can hear you both, you know." Wynne chuckled slightly. "Thank you Shale, but I will be alright."
"Very well, if that is what It wants?" The Golem stood up, but did not take her stone eyes from Dorian. "I will go speak to the Little Strange Dwarf, then."
"Sandal?" Dorian looked to Shale cautiously.
"Yes. The one who cannot form a sentence without adding 'Enchantment'." Shale nodded, making sure to add emphasis to the word. "I acquired more gems I wish to have added." With that, the Golem gave Dorian one more warning glance then headed over to Bodan's carriage.
"Is there something you need, dear?" Wynne smiled as Dorian took a place in front of her. "I was just practising my mediations. I hope you have been doing so as well?" she raised a scrupulous eyebrow.
"Whenever I find the moment to, yes." He chuckled.
"I am glad to see you haven't forgotten your teachings then." She smiled. "I'm sure Irving would be grateful to know you continue to strengthen your abilities."
"Yes, even though it has been some time since I left the tower." Dorian frowned at the thought.
"It has been almost a year, hasn't it?" Wynne asked with awe.
"I-I suppose it has." He scratched his scruffy chin. "I hadn't thought about it for so long, it didn't seem all that long ago…"
"Time, it is a fickle thing. One moment it can feel a lifetime ago, the next it's as if time never passed. Do you miss the tower at all?"
"Yes I suppose I do, it was my home for as long as I could remember. It will always hold a place in my heart, I suppose." He answered, somewhat unsurely.
"You can take a mage out of the Circle, but you can't take the Circle out of the mage. Or so Irving used to say." Wynne chuckled.
"Usually followed by 'Granted, what a mage is doing outside of the Circle is none of my business'." Dorian bellowed with laughter at the fond memory.
"Ha, a version he must have saved for his younger students I suppose." Wynne grinned. "He was joking, but there is some truth to the statement. A mage never really leaves the Circle, and for the rest of your life, you will be seen as a Circle mage."
"But, I am a Grey Warden now."
"But you will always be a mage, especially in the eyes of others. You represent both mages and Grey Wardens, and your actions may reflect well, or badly on both groups. Remember that."
"That is always up for debate." Dorian shrugged. "One person's heroic deed is another's form of treason. I do what is right, regardless of how others perceive me."
"That is commendable, but ones principles are often subtly influenced by others. Though you may be unconscious of it." Dorian nodded in agreement. "The only thing one can do is to be aware that this is a possibility, and ask yourself often why you do what you do."
"I will try and remember that." He smiled.
"Ah, but listen to me go on." Wynne chuckled. "You start a conversation and I just run away with it, don't I? Turn it into a lesson on moral values."
"I am glad you take the time to counsel me." Dorian smiled. "Accept when the lessons become lectures."
"All part of the job, I'm afraid." She chuckled. "I've been mentoring apprentices for so long, it's become something I do unconsciously. I don't know if I could stop, even if I wanted to…"
The two were silent for a moment. Wynne seemed to contemplate something, though Dorian did not dare disturb her. He knew the event earlier had to be discussed, but he didn't feel the need to push the issue. Wynne was a proud and wise mage, and like all mages, trust was something earned.
"I… I think I owe you and explanation for what happened earlier…" she finally sighed.
"I didn't want to ask… but, you had me quite worried." Dorian frowned.
"You should know that… something happened to me at the tower, before you came along." She moved about the earth uncomfortably.
"The Circle's Tower? That was quite some time ago Wynne. How long have you been injured?" Dorian's frown grew.
"Not injured… not really." Wynne continued. "You spoke to Petra, did you not?" Dorian nodded, recalling Wynne's apprentice. "She told you I saved her from a demon. I… did, but I did not survive the encounter."
Dorian's eyes grew with confusion and shock. Wynne's face twisted into anguish, her words seemed truthful, furthering Dorian's confusion.
"I'm sorry… what?" He asked unsurely, scratching his brow. "You are… undead?"
"No. I'm not undead." She almost chuckled at his confusion. "If I were a possessed walking corpse and could still think… I'd kill myself." All joking had left her voice.
"I-I do not mean offense… I am just, trying to wrap my head around this." Dorian fumbled with his hands.
"Here, let me try and explain further." Wynne said with patience. "I engaged a very powerful demon to rescue Petra. It sapped me of all my energy and will, and left me drained. It took everything I had to defeat it, and when I was done… I no longer had the strength to keep my heart beating."
She lowered her head, a look of utter despair filled her eyes. For the first time since Dorian had met Wynne, he felt the urge to hug her.
"I remember my life ebbing away, everything resided from me… sound, light… I remember being enveloped in complete, impenetrable darkness…"
Dorian swallowed hard. For some reason his mind casted back to his Joining, the terrifying sense of darkness and agony. He hadn't died, but at the time he felt as if death would have been mercy.
"And then I sensed a presence, enfolding me and cradling me, whispering quietly to me. The sensation is impossible to describe." Her eyes were of awe. "I was being… held back, firmly, but gently, as a mother would a child eager to slip from her grasp. I felt life and warmth flowing through my veins again. I began to be aware of small sounds, and the discomfort of my hip pressing into the cold stone of the tower floor."
"That is… incredible." Dorian said, scarcely believing his ears. "What saved you?"
"The Fade contains spirits both benevolent and malicious. The benevolent spirits seldom make themselves known, because they want nothing from mortals… unlike the demons. It was one of these spirits that saved me. Without it, I would be dead. And it has not left me…" her words grew cautious as she watched for Dorian's reaction. "It is with me, even now… bonded to me…"
"You mean…" Dorian's eyes grew wide.
"Yes." She nodded. "You see, I am supposed to be dead. It is the spirit that is keeping me in this world, and this is not the way of things. Perhaps the spirit did not expect this, but it is weakening, gradually. I am living… on borrowed time."
"How long… will the spirit last?"
"I do not know. I can feel when the spirit weakens, so I should have fair warning. But come, let us not talk about this… there is time yet." Wynne smiled.
Dorian felt his heart thump quickly as the realisation set in. Soon, he would lose another mentor. Another friend.
"Don't be sad child." Wynne pet his hand reassuringly. "I have lived a long life, and I do not fear what is to come. Neither should you."
"Why did the spirit save you? If in the end it was…" his voice broke.
"I have always had an affinity for the spirits of the Fade. As a child I never feared my dreams, because I knew they were there. I believe Irving said you had come to develop a similar gift?"
"Yes. A demons whisper has never truly affected me." Dorian nodded. "But I was hardly ever aware of a spirits presence, only on occasion did I encounter one. What about you, were you conscious of demons?"
"I could sense the demons too, and their presence frightened me. It was the kindly spirits of the Fade that took the fear from me. I've always been able to feel the spirits, even if I never saw them. And as I nurtured my talent in the Circle, I became more sensitive. I began to notice every time I was in the Fade, whether it was in a dream or in magical practice, that I was being watched."
"I never realised spirits held such power. Demons yes, but spirits… I never even knew they were able to act as such."
"I suppose they must. It is these benevolent spirits that create our dream worlds in the Fade. Sometimes, I would see it… a glowing, nebulous form. Most times I would just feel its presence. Gentle, and comforting, but somehow alien. I think it is a spirit of Faith. They have never been seen before and perhaps I am wrong, but something tells me I'm not. It always felt like the same entity. This one spirit was curious about me and was… guarding me, for want of a better word."
"I guess you are lucky then." Dorian grinned, astounded.
"There were times, when I was in the Fade, that it seemed to stretch forth to shield me, keeping me safe. And I think it gave me strength in my most terrible battles, Ostagar being one of them." Her eyes grew distant with the memory.
"And the demon in the tower." Dorian nodded.
"I don't know why I was chosen… Perhaps it knew that there was something more that lay in store for me. I like to think that I was given a chance, and I'm going to make the best of the time so generously given to me."
"By fighting darkspawn…?" Dorian raised his eyebrow, to which Wynne chuckled. "In any case, I am very grateful you think travelling with me is worthy of your time."
"I will not lay motionless in a bed, with the coverlets up to my chin, waiting for death to claim me." She said defiantly. "That is no death for me. And so, I will fight alongside the Grey Warden, and help prepare him for the task that is yet before him."
"I am honoured." He bowed his head humbly.
"So you had better listen to me, because if I should fail before the end and you don't seem to be doing things properly…" she grinned jokingly. "I'll get up again to give you a good finger wagging."
"I'll hold you to that promise." Dorian chuckled.
"You know, I think you'll be alright… even without my help." She smiled. "Now, off you go… the others look as if they are having some form of a party without you."
Dorian turned his head to see the others gathered around the fire. Leliana appeared to be sharing one of her famous stories with Alistair, while Zevran played his flute along to her tale. Sten stood offside, stoic as ever, but a slight flash of light danced in his eyes. Dorian smiled.
"Actually, I was hoping we could talk more." He turned back to Wynne.
"You wish to hear more life lessons from an old teacher?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid my stories aren't quite as entertaining as Leliana's… nor am I quite as enjoyable to listen to. Hm?" she smiled knowingly.
"Call me a gluten for punishment… but your lectures are growing on me." He grinned devilishly.
"Silver tongued demon." Wynne chuckled. "Flattery will get you nowhere with me. But, I suppose your company is appreciated. What's on your mind?"
"Do you have any regrets?"
…
Dorian rushed over to the fire pit, a frown planted on his face. Morrigan and Alistair's screeches did not dull upon his approach. If anything, it encouraged the argument.
"Why are you even with us?" Alistair pointed a finger to the witch. "What is your motive? You couldn't care less about anything we are doing, so what right do you have to start throwing orders at us!"
Oh for the love of Maker… and here I thought we were all getting along nicely. About ready to name our children after each other… Guess we won't be braiding hair after all.
Dorian paused beside Leliana, she gave him a sympathetic look. Zevran perched himself on a log, watching intently with an amused smirk.
"I do not need to discuss anything with you, fool!" Morrigan barked. "Last I checked, you need permission to sharpen your sword. Cannot so much as scratch yourself without checking on your superiors for guidance."
"You think, because I don't want to lead that you have the right to boss me around!" Alistair's face twisted. "You think, you are better than me? Well, you're not Morrigan! You're a heartless bit-"
"That's enough you two!" Dorian stepped between them.
Alistair huffed with an animalistic rage. A rage Dorian had not seen for some time. Alistair was normally the calm one. The mage couldn't help but feel as if his conversation in Denerim might have taken more effect than intended. Considering he had practically told his friend to 'harden up'.
"Go on, tell her!" Alistair pointed once more to Morrigan. "Tell her we are not doing what she says!"
"For a starter, what are you two arguing over?" Dorian fanned the air, signalling for Alistair to calm down. "All I heard was bleeding shouting, is this anything of actual importance? Or are you bickering over who hates who more?"
"I merely told the idiot we didn't have time to be chasing around, looking for a dead king." Morrigan shrugged. "Tis a foolish plan he has concocted. There are things of greater importance."
"Like what exactly!" Alistair snapped. "Going to play family with your bloody mother!"
Morrigan looked as if she was about to set Alistair on fire. Her glare turned accusingly to Dorian, betrayed. The mage was certain her glare could have frozen him.
"Don't act like I'm an idiot that couldn't figure it out for myself!" Alistair snapped when he saw the glare Dorian received. "I know that's why we headed this way, why else would we be going past the Korcari Wilds… unless you felt homesick!"
"I am warning you, mongrel…" Morrigan snarled.
"I saw the path, we have gone out of our way… just to help you and whatever stupid scheme you have come up with! And yet, I am apparently an idiot for wanting to see my sister… or honour my dead brother!"
Dorian looked to Alistair, a realisation with his words. He had almost forgotten what this journey would have meant to him. Alistair, believed it his blood duty to do this for Cailan. Perhaps Dorian's advice was taken, but in a different direction.
"Bah!" Morrigan snorted, throwing her arms up. "The Bastard Prince who never wanted the title, suddenly feels obligated to do his royal duty? Tis incredibly poetic of you!"
"So what's your reason for going home, huh? Tired of being alone, cant handle the idea that the only man that has ever thought more of you than some tramp… is in love with an actual human being!" Alistair's snarl curled up in victory.
Dorian watched as Morrigan's eyes went from his to Leliana. Both women looked incredibly uncomfortable with the arguments change of direction. Dorian had to admit, he was angered with Alistair's words also. Such an accusation was uncalled for.
"You wouldn't even be capable of love... would you…" the large man viciously spat his words.
"Alistair, stop." Dorian tried to remain calm.
"I get it, whatever it is may have some importance…" Alistair bitterly admitted. "But that does not give her any Maker given right, to tell me what to do… tell us, what to do."
"If you cleaned the wax from your ears, you sweat covered beast," Morrigan practically seethed. "I said it would be a waste of resources to go searching through darkspawn infested lands, for a dead man and his belongings, all because a dying man wished it!" her hands were now visibly shaking.
"You don't have the right to decide what is right and what isn't!" Alistair shouted over his shorter friend.
"No!" Dorian snapped. "I do! Or have you both forgotten who was appointed leader of this band of misfits?"
Both backed down slightly, though their chests huffed with supressed rage. Dorian stood his ground, he could practically hear the tension in the air, with the awkward silence that arose.
"Look," he pinched the bridge of his nose. "We need to stick together. Despite the problems some of us have with each other." He shot the ex-Templar and witch glares. "The Blight has yet to become immediate, but that does not mean we should be taking our time. If need be, I will travel all around Thedas delivering messages or handing over lost property, if it gets me one step closer to stopping the Blight!"
Alistair shuffled about uncomfortably, his eyes darted away. Morrigan remained still, her snarl did not leave her face.
"But, I will not waste mine or anyone else's time by standing around and bickering over a bloody decision that has already been made!" his frown grew deeper. "I am in charge! I have never wanted this Maker awful role, but I have accepted it regardless! We will go to the Korcari Wilds." Morrigan's face gentled. "And, we will go to Ostagar." Alistair looked up gratefully. "And I will tell you why, so you both can get over your little disagreements and work together! We are not going there simply to reclaim a fallen king's legacy, we are not going to simply put his body to rest… We are going, because that is where this all began!"
He looked around to all his companions, their faces twisted with confusion and questioning. He did not falter or doubt his decision.
"If we take back Ostagar, if we drive those blighters back to the darkness, we will be making a stand! We are going back to right the wrongs of our past, to finish what was started!" he turned to Alistair. "And finally, to let go of our failures. To show the Archdemon, that we are not afraid…"
The eerie silence continued. Dorian looked to his companions, all held the same look. A look of determination, of hope. They had to do this, to prove to themselves and to the world, that the Blight could be stopped. If anything, this task felt more important to the Warden then curing the Arl.
"Tomorrow, we will head through the Bricillian, I have business with the Dalish to attend to…"
I have another wrong that needs to be made right…
He looked up to notice Wynne's curious eyes watching his performance intently from a distance.
"After that, we head to Ostagar. And then, when we march through the Korcari Wilds… I will finish what I started…" Morrigan nodded in approval. "Whoever wishes to join me on these tasks are welcome. To those who hold doubts or question my leadership… Nothing is stopping you from leaving…"
Morrigan nodded with gratitude, then headed off to her private camp. Alistair paused to watch her leave, a snarl still firmly planted on his face. Then his eyes turned to Dorian, he softened.
"Yes, Commander." He bowed to his leader.
With that, Alistair took his leave to go stand watch. Dorian let out an exhausted breath and practically collapsed onto the ground. He didn't understand how that was more straining than an actual battle.
"Well that… was interesting." Zevran chuckled. "I think those two just need to hurry up and do the deed. Relieve all that pent up resentment."
"That idea has been out of the cards for a long time." Leliana snickered as she took a seat beside Dorian. "I am almost positive it's just hate those two share."
Dorian almost smiled. He was glad neither felt the need to mention the awkward moment Alistair had caused. Instead, he felt as if a good laugh was all he needed at that moment. Both Zevran and Leliana must have felt the same.
"Yes, but imagine the passion!" the elf dramatically grasped the air. "Windows cracking, trees shaking! Biting, clawing, moaning…"
"Zev… I think you are putting way too much thought into it." Dorian laughed as he law on the ground, hand over his eyes.
"Please, do not rob me of my fantasies." The elf made a hurt gesture, rendering Leliana in stiches. "I wonder if all they need is a gentle push in the right direction."
"I think the only pushing they want to do, is off a cliff." Leliana shook her head in amusement.
"A shame… it would make a lovely story, no?" Zevran purred. "Much more exciting than the gooey tale you two clearly have playing out."
"Oh buggar off." Dorian chuckled lazily.
"As you wish then." He fashioned a huff and strutted off. Given the direction, it looked as if he was to join Alistair. Dorian silently hoped another argument wouldn't break out, at least not until after dinner.
"I am glad to see you two made up." Dorian smiled into his hand.
"Zevran is too humorous to stay mad at." Leliana shrugged. "Besides, he unlike some, knows when to admit they are wrong."
"Anyone in particular you are referring to?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't be me, because I am never wrong."
"Evidently not." She teased. "Just thinking about our stubborn friend… and Morrigan."
"They are both my stubborn friends."
"Uh. Don't remind me." She rolled her eyes.
Dorian chuckled at the annoyance in her voice.
"Jealousy is such a nasty habit, Leli."
"Oh shut up…" she playfully pinched his arm.
He snickered but winched at the playful gesture. Almost instantly though, her fingers began tracing the muscles on his arm, lightly stroking the somewhat sore skin.
"I am proud of you." Leliana whispered.
The sudden contact sent shivers over his entire body. Spreading heat from his face through to his stomach. He moved his hand slightly to see Leliana smiling down at him.
"Think I am doing the right thing?" he asked.
"What is this? Doubt, from the one who is never wrong?" she teased, Dorian rolled his eyes. "I know you are doing the right thing. But, that doesn't matter. What matters is what you feel and what you know." Her fingers lightly tickled his warm skin. "I do have to ask though, why are we going to the Dalish?"
"I take it you will be joining me then?" he grinned.
"You did not answer my question." She tried to hide her smirk.
"Secret." He cheekily answered with a wink.
"You know…" she purred, her head hovering over his face. "I could get it out of you if I wanted…"
"Is that so?" he gulped. She nodded with a devilish smirk.
"Quite easily in fact…"
"I think… you are cheating…" Dorian felt his heart race when Leliana's hand came up to his lightly trace his lips outline.
"I don't hear any complaining." She purred.
Her lips were hovering just above his own. Her scent was intoxicating, wild flowers and honey. Dorian's mouth almost watered as he stared up, anticipating a kiss. She did not oblige. Instead, she continued to hover, just out of his reach.
"What… are you doing…?" he breathed through his racing heart.
"Being cautious, you are very…. very dangerous…" she purred seductively. Dorian felt his breathing hitch as tiny pin pricks of excitement raced over his body. He suddenly found all thoughts on the matter of 'caution' non-existent.
"You're teasing…" he finally muttered, eyes fixated on hers.
"Am I?" her lips pouted slightly, acting innocent to his accusation.
"You are playing dirty." He groaned when she lightly brushed her lips on his. Sending spikes of electricity trough his body. "Not… fair."
"I know, aren't I wicked." She smirked as her fingers moved up to trace the lines on his face. "How the Chantry would disapprove. Not very Sisterly of me, is it?"
"You were never affirmed." He smugly corrected.
"Hmm, yes you are correct. Perhaps I should-"
Before she was given the chance to move, Dorian lifted his head up and closed the very tiny and very annoying gap between them. His hands reached up to hold her, granting a squeak of surprise and joy from Leliana. She practically fell on him out of surprise, but his sturdy hands kept her from completely loosing balance.
She playfully struggled against his hold, all the while trying to gain the upper hand in the kiss. Dorian wasn't sure why, but he wasn't willing to let her win this game the two had decided to enjoy. His actions only intensified the smile on Leliana's lips, which Dorian could feel as their kiss intensified.
She eventually gave up her struggle for power and allowed Dorian to take charge with the kiss. Granting both a shiver and a moan from the somewhat thrilled Leliana. The two had completely forgotten they were not entirely in private surroundings.
"Ahem." A motherly tone coughed offside.
Dorian instantly released Leliana, who almost let out a groan at the untimely interruption. Regardless, both shot up and pretended to act as if nothing had happened.
Wynne stood by the stew pot, arms crossed and a hint of a smirk touching her lips. Dorian and Leliana patted their hair down and tried to look anywhere that wasn't Wynne or each other.
"Sorry to… interrupt." She almost chuckled. "I was just wondering if you were going to have dinner… or are you satisfied with eating Leliana's face?"
Dorian felt his face burn with embarrassment. He viciously rubbed the hair on the back of his neck, focussing on how stubborn it was, rather than Wynne's remark. He could have sworn Leliana was giggling.
That's right, everyone pick on the mage…
"Dinner would be nice… thank you…" he mumbled. Wynne smirked as she began scooping the meal for two.
Leliana turned and smirked at the red mage. She leaned over to whisper in his ear.
"Feeling a little flustered?" she teased.
Oh… not fair! Not fair at all.
He glared at the smug bard, only furthering the cheeky smirk planted proudly on her face.
"I think this was all part of your plan." He whispered back.
"Me? Plan? Never." She giggled.
Wynne continued to hum to herself as she dished the meal. Seemingly oblivious to Dorian and Leliana's continuation of playful banter.
"How long do you think she was standing there?" he awkwardly scratched his neck. Leliana shrugged.
"Probably for the best…" she sighed, then leaned closer to his ear. "It seems my bedroll is calling me." She planted a kiss on his cheek, but it quickly wandered to his ear. He swallowed hard.
With one last suggestive smile, Leliana took her leave and headed towards her tent. Dorian stared after her, chewing his lip as he did so. Despite saying how uncertain and worried he was about becoming intimate, Leliana was making his argument seem almost ignorable. He couldn't help but notice her hips swayed a little more enthusiastically than usual. Not that the mage didn't enjoy the view.
"Antivan broth tonight, my favourite."
Dorian jumped almost into the air as Wynne handed his bowl to him. He blushed once again as he thanked her and accepted his meal. It did smell delightful, Zevran was an amazing cook.
I knew I kept him around for a reason… despite embarrassing me every chance he gets.
Wynne took a seat adjacent from Dorian and began slowly enjoying her meal. Dorian however practically inhaled the broth. Like a typical Warden, once food was in his proximity, it was in danger.
Wardens. Danger to darkspawn and food. Cooks and Archdemon's beware.
"So, it would seem your friendship with Leliana is going well." Wynne casually stated.
Dorian continued to munch away, his eyes avoided Wynne entirely.
"Now, do we need to discuss the birds and the bees, or can I enforce the Tower's 'Purple' rule?"
Dorian began chocking at the senior mages suggestion. He looked over once he gained control over his lungs, hoping to see mockery in the mages eyes. Wynne seemed genuinely serious though, only adding to Dorian's embarrassment.
"I uh…" he stuttered all the while looking from Wynne back to his bowl. "I think I have eaten my share…."
"Oh, not hungry anymore?" she casually asked. "Normally you have about three helpings."
"I seem to have lost my appetite…" Dorian's cheeks burned. "Err… Goodnight."
He jumped up quickly and marched over to his tent, not looking back once. He was almost certain he could hear Wynne chuckling to herself as he did so.
Evil woman.
As he entered his tent, he almost tripped on the snoring Mabari by the door. Spirit didn't so much as grunt in annoyance, rather he kept snoring as if Dorian had never arrived. The mage shook his head in amusement and let his faithful hound sleep.
Pulling his tunic over his head, he rolled his shoulders to relieve his necks tension. With a loud pop from his joints, Dorian sighed. With another sigh he clicked his fingers to ignite a tiny spark of light that began to hover just above the mages head. The small light was just enough to illuminate his tent. A very useful trick Jowan had once taught him, should he ever desire to read past lights out. A sad memory.
Maker… I hope Jowan is safe.
He shook his head, trying to suppress the painful thoughts. Irving had promised he would look out for Jowan, the First Enchanter wouldn't fail. He couldn't.
Ignoring the sudden feeling of despair rise in his throat, the mage fished around in his pack for his tattered journal. Something he had been neglecting for a couple of days now. Given all that had transpired since his last entry, he considered it a worthwhile task.
Dedicating a page to the events in Denerim as well as his plan of action, he decided all that Wynne had told him deserved to be noted. Such a curious thing, he thought. Given all the Circle had taught of possession, Wynne did not seem to show the signs.
Demonic possession must be entirely different. Still, it is worrisome.
Her time was short, that much was clear. And so, he had made a silent promise to help Wynne move on from the ultimate regret in her life. He was careful to make note of the name she had told him. Aeirin. He couldn't be certain the elf was still alive, but if he was there was a good chance the Dalish would know. He prayed to the Maker to let it be so, Wynne deserved to at least have an answer.
He began chuckling as he recounted all the times he had gone out of his way for seemingly small tasks, and the big outcomes of his actions.
He had searched a good portion of Thedas in hopes of finding a simple sword. And in the end, it had gained him the ultimate loyalty of someone he once assumed would try and murder him in his sleep. He trekked through an underground cavern, hoping to find records for a Stone Giant. The only information given was based on a glimpse of what might have been a forgotten memory. What came of his task, was regaining part of a stolen life, and earning the trust of a presumed 'monster'. He reunited a bastard Prince with his only living family, only to be shut out and denied any recognition. In the end, the man learned family was not always shared with blood.
Dorian was curious what would come of the task of helping Morrigan. Flemeth, would no doubt be a dire task in comparison to finding a lost sister.
Then again… that woman was terrifying in her own way… Hopefully Zevran has something simple in mind to ask me. Maybe another pair of boots, that I am okay with.
And finally, bringing an end to one's inner torment and helping her overcome the demons of her past. The death of a friend and lover, all in the hopes of gaining a sense of freedom and protection. Dorian's thumb lightly stroked the writing tool that was once gifted to him, so very long ago. He continued to write.
"Though, my actions were no doubt selfish, I do not regret the choice I made. Leliana, her safety is what I care about. I know she has come to blame herself for a decision I pushed, but I hope in time she will come to blame me rather than herself. But, in the end I fear Leliana will only see who made the final blow. In the end, she will see it was her arrow that took her past mentor's life. Not my words.
I was once told by a dear friend that survival is what matters. Survival by all means. Though I do not condone some choices when it comes to surviving, there is definitely wisdom in the method.
It was this belief that drove Marjolaine… the mere writing of her name causes my stomach to ache with spasms of hate. It is what drove her to betray Leliana, to pursue and hunt her down, and would have eventually driven her to kill Leliana.
Grey Wardens believe it is the end that justifies the means. Admittedly, they speak only of the Blight when they say such things… but can it not be considered in this instance? Is it not human nature to want to protect yourself and those you love? Is it truly wicked to wish someone dead, when that person undoubtedly does not deserve life? All questions I must ask myself, not only with Marjolaine, but with anyone I have slain. It is a guilty thought I shall carry with me on my journey.
I would never dare to ask Leliana, or another for that matter. I am still growing accustomed to the idea asking and sharing is acceptable, especially with such painful things. Strange, no matter how far I believe I have come from that scared little mage in the tower, I will never truly be free from me inner demons.
Just as I fear Leliana will never be. But, she is far stronger than I."
Dorian shook his head as he reread the words scrawled onto the page. His scholar voice at times annoyed him, given how his journal no doubt read like Brother Genitivi's memoirs.
Perhaps… one day they will be considered as such.
Yes, because you will become some acclaimed adventurer.
Who knows, the Blight won't last forever.
He sighed as he tried to move on from the depressing questions that swirled in his fickle mind. His eyes landed on his silver staff, a smile touching his lips at the memory of who gave him such an expensive tool.
"But, enough of such matters, at least for tonight.
It is odd, as of late the only thing of importance that comes to mind… is her. Regardless of the topic I choose to document, Leliana will always somehow appear in my thoughts.
I am almost certain, if I were to reread this book, many a page would be dedicated to her.
Her beautiful red hair, blowing defiantly in the wind. Like fire dancing gracefully. But no destruction, only beauty and grace. I sometimes have to stop myself from staring, but that is something I have always been forced to do. Even long before I realised I had come to care for her, as I do now. I never realised the reason why I couldn't look away when she occasionally played with her tiny plat, was because I found it maddeningly adorable. Why I often caught myself drawing the perfection that was Leliana. Surely, if she were to ever stumble onto this book… she would no doubt be astounded by how possibly obsessed I was over her. Granted, I still worship the air that woman breathes. And I never understood why.
Now I do, and I accept it. Love is not a weakness, as I once feared. It seems to be what has pushed me thus far, and what will continue to do so long after the pages of this journal have ended. Alas, I must continue to be cautious of my thoughts and desires though. Because, in the end, I am still dangerous. Whether I wish to be or not. She cannot see it, but I am a monster.
How I wish I could be…"
He paused for a moment as he attempted to articulate the exact word. Dorian chewed his lip in thought, nothing seemed to quite sum up how he felt. He was almost growing frustrated with writers block.
"Well… perhaps normal would suffice."
He chuckled to himself. Normal summed it up rather nicely.
"On the topic of Leliana and how I have come to feel for her…
I am still struggling to write that blasted poem for her! I am still new to this, though Zevran has claimed a sonnet or poem is a nice choice. The act of 'gift giving' as a sign of love, seems so foreign to me. But, so did kissing… to which I now must admit… I have become rather fond of doing….
It all seems rather complicated, the way Zevran has described to all to me. I could write an entire novel on how 'unhelpful' his advice has seemed. Perhaps I should just give her some adorably fluffy animal as a token of my affection. I did notice in Denerim's market, a small child selling kittens. A couple passed by and the woman began to screech and paw over how adorable the fur-balls were. Personally, I have never seen the fascination with kittens, sadly they grow up and turn into clawed demons…
Regardless, the man purchased one of his lady's choosing, granting a kiss and more screeches of joy. A strange custom. I understand the giving of flowers, flowers are lovely and smell nice. Just like Leliana. But, I have already given her flowers. Zevran told me I must become more extravagant in the gifts. Given the reaction of the fluffy pet, I would assume that is a good option?
Still, kittens seem so… dull. I couldn't imagine someone as amazing as Leliana desiring something so mundane and common. Why, one can find a kitten anywhere in the streets. As my poor dog has come to learn. Leliana would probably prefer something more rare or mystical.
I certainly hope she wouldn't wish me to catch her a dragon… Seeing one of them in the Bricillian ruins was enough for me. I would happily live the rest of my life never seeing another scaled beast.
Perhaps, I should just stick to the poem then."
A loud yawn escaped Dorian's mouth. He closed the book and placed it back inside his pack, safe from both the weather and prying eyes. With another hearty stretch, Dorian blew out the tiny ball of light that hovered above his head.
A/N:
Wooh! 25! *does a little dance*
Lots of dialogue in this one. Some sweet, some nasty, and some a little suggestive.
The 'Purple' rule for those who aren't familiar with it, is commonly used in school environments. (I used to hear this rule constantly in high school) Boys are blue, girls are red, no making purple (wink). hahah.
Coming up; Flemeth! dun dun duuuun :D
Thanks again to all you amazing readers! You make this story possible 3