Personal Log, Middas 3rd, Evening Star, 40 Dragon

I've been able to actually leave my accommodations today, and had a look around the town. Haven is…quant, for a village based around the so-called 'Temple of Sacred Ashes'. It feels weird, in a way, to be back here again.

Hard to believe it's been ten years since the last time I visited this place…however, it's definitely seen some refurnishing, to put it mildly. The piers are still down by the lake, and the Chantry is still located top of the hill. Those are basically the only things unchanged, though.

I am not aware of what exactly transpired, but clearly something wiped the original village's wooden huts form the map, and that something's got to be at least five, maybe six years ago. It had to be while I was outside Ferelden.

I'll ask in the Chantry. Maybe Josephine will know.

Also, I have pondered further upon Minerve's suggestions. Might be, there could be a way for us to copy the Gatok…Galok, Catlock…Screw it, Catfuck' it is. I'm not even going to bother if the Qunari come running for rights violated.

I have way too much shit on my plate for that to even matter at this point.

Just around the Corner

When all were assembled in the hall, Brelyna was the one to break the news;

"The Arl will not wake."

It was a short sentence of five words, yet everyone in the room seemed in need of multiple seconds to process them. Talia, who did not know Arl Eamon, and was only just starting to grasp the importance of his revival, looked instead to Alistair for his reaction.

The older Warden – she actually did not know by how many years, maybe two? – scrounged up his face in an expression of deep concern. Despite how he'd been treated like a runaway kid in his childhood, it was quite obvious that Alistair cared deeply for the old Arl. His eyes grew distant, and his jaw set itself solid while his hands clenched into fists.

"Well…fuck us then, huh?" Daveth was the first to break the silence, as he oft was. Alistair was next, however.

"Why not?"

"I cannot determine." Wynne sighed, looking to Jowan; "Jowan?"

To his credit, the scrawny youth did not tremble, nor did he attempt to sink out of sigh. Maybe it was due to the absence of the older enchanters, Talia could not say. Instead, he stood as straight as he dared – and as his still recovering back allowed him without aches – and frowned. He didn't frown often. Usually it would be a sigh or a frightened expression when trouble arose.

"I don't understand. It's was a simple sleep-concoction: Watered, mild deathroot and fungi…Even I should be able to wake him."

"Regardless, the Arl remains unresponsive…" Wynne looked to Brelyna, who simply shook her head in reply; "Neither of us could do anything to bring him back from this sleep."

"It looks more like a venom-induced coma, I think…" Brelyna muttered, scratching her lower lip in thought, then turned to Jowan as well; "Are you sure nothing else was in it? That you made the poison mild enough not to make this permanent?"

"…I- I think so? It's supposed to…" Jowan's cheeks and neck flushed visibly at her inquiry, mild though it might be. His hands came together, wringing; "I…could have…Maker no, if…if I made a mistake, if he doesn't wake…"

"Then we're fucked." Daveth summed it up quite neatly, truth be told. Had Talia been able to speak, she'd have used language not quite as civil. But Gods! She missed being able to offer her Septims in a conversation, especially one like this, where the potential future of a continent was at risk.

"What else can we do?" Brelyna asked of the room in general; "He doesn't respond at all, yet seems to merely be asleep."

"Could we go back into the Fade? See if he's still trapped there?" J'zargo asked of the Dunmer more than the rest, maybe simply because he trusted her more.

"That would be of little use, since the demon holding him there was banished as well." Morrigan scowled; "There is not even a guarantee that the Eamon you encountered in the Fade was the real Arl. For all we know, he might as well have been yet another spirit."

"But J'zargo never met the actual Arl, did he?" Cíada asked, wording the thoughts also roaming Talia's mind. Didn't they say the Fade was a representation, a mirror of the dreamer' own mind? As such, a spirt or a demon shouldn't have been able to form a man J'zargo had never met.

"Usually that would be the case." Wynne half-agreed with her apprentice; "However, Morrigan might be right: This was not J'zargo's own dream, but Connor's."

"Which…of course would allow spirits to mirror the boy's own dad. Right…" the petite girl slumped, deflated that her point had been so easily disproven. Talia smiled a little at that. It sometimes felt like she could see small bits and pieces of herself – a younger self, that was – in the Circle girl.

She still despised the Circle itself, though. Always would. Regardless that it might serve a seemingly noble purpose for the mages of Thedas, it had no rights to indiscriminately jail or kill any mages it came across. It would be the equivalent of the Thalmor jailing everyone in Skyrim for being a Nord. Which…actually wouldn't surprise me that much if they wanted to do just that.

"What then? What's left?" Aedan said, voicing the mounting distress of the group. He'd recovered quite nicely from her little surprise-kiss on him earlier, and seemed almost…more determined now, than before. Not as much in his words, but in the way he stood. The way he held his arms, the way his feet were planted; "Do we have some sort of super antidote on stock?"

Bugger.

Talia briefly entertained the idea that maybe she could make something up, some potion or mixture or draught, something to counteract the ingredients Jowan had used. But that plan was dashed before she'd even bothered reaching for her pen and papers. She'd seen the ingredients in Jowan's study, and very few of them had uses for antidotes to a sleeping-draught. The closest she'd come would be antlers or some various fungi, but all they'd do would be counteracting weariness itself, not wake the man. And considering the Arl's apparent age, using sufficient pepper-ups to wake him, might just kill him.

Bugger.

"Arlessa Isolde mentioned the Sacred Ashes, did she not?" Leliana stepped in. Talia frowned, unwilling to believe that even if the fabled ashes of the Chantry's de-facto founder could be found, they would be able to do anything. Human ashes were human ashes, regardless of how important or pious they'd been alive. A Moth Priest rotted as well as any peasant. There was no way mere ashes could heal a man: in fact they might just make him sicker.

Bugger.

Unless someone had enchanted the ashes themselves. The Breton frowned, scratching her cheek: she had not considered that before. Morbid as it was, it was not an impossible notion. She'd heard of people, Necromancers usually, casting spells over ashes of the dead before. Usually though, this was with the purpose of bringing back thralls even after they'd been pulverized once. And she could not tell this to Wynne, nor to Alistair or Leliana, simply because they couldn't read her words, and her classmates would likely want to know why she knew about the methods of Necromancers, seeing how she hadn't told them much about her parents lives pre-marriage.

Bugger.

"But she sent almost every knight out to search, and none have returned yet." Teagan said regretfully; "I wouldn't even have any idea of where to start looking at this point."

"Well…legends say Andraste's ashes were hidden somewhere in her homeland, which is technically Ferelden, no?" Leliana asked, a small, thoughtful frown on her features; "So, is it possible the Ashes are here in Ferelden?"

"Or they could be somewhere in Avar lands, thrown in a marsh…" Alistair deadpanned, earning himself a pout from the redheaded bard.

"That they are in Ferelden is knowledge enough." Leliana said again, bringing sufficient attention on herself that Talia saw her hesitate. Still, the redhead continued; "We should look for historians who might tell us more…Did the Arlessa consult any historians?"

"Not that I know of." Teagan shook his head; "She couldn't actually leave Redcliffe before you arrived, and I doubt she considered it between Eamon's illness and the demon taking over."

"Still, even if there might be any historians knowing of Andraste's Ashes…" Alistair said doubtfully, throwing his hands out in weak protest; "Where would we find them?"

"Brother Genitivi remains the Chantry's foremost historian, and he lives in Denerim." The redhead smiled, just a little, when she said it; "I have met with him before, he is a most friendly individual, uncaring of myths over reality. Last we spoke, his assistant also mentioned his mentor looking for the Ashes."

"…and you say this now?" Morrigan bore the most incredulous expression of the group, something Talia found extremely surprising, and amusing at that too. it was odd, really odd, seeing Morrigan genuinely surprised at something Leliana said or did.

"The Ashes only now became relevant." There was a shrug in Leliana's voice, something rare enough that it warranted raised brows from the Witch; "And you never asked."

"…Well put, Sister." Morrigan gave her, almost as if the Witch offered Leliana a point in some unspoken competition.

"If Genitivi lives in Denerim, it coincides with my departure tomorrow." Teagan offered, something of a relieved smile – just a small one – spreading on his face; "We should travel together, then. I would feel immensely more secure, and you could all pose as my entourage…"

"I sense a 'but' coming." Alistair mused, halfway between annoyed and amused, from the sound of it. Teagan nodded, sighed and looked at Morrigan.

"We would need to find you a new set of clothes then…" the Bann said, and his tone of voice suggested that he very well knew the reaction to his proposal. Morrigan narrowed her eyes, yellow irises sharper than blades and colder than ice, glaring at Teagan; "Well, it's that or pose as a comfort-woman, something which I somewhat doubt you'd ever agree to."

"You doubt correctly, Bann." Morrigan scoffed, though she seemed no more frustrated than when Alistair said something stupid. To his defense, it was becoming less common these days; "I require no sets of disguises to mask my travels, however, have no doubt in that."

"She's a shapeshifter." Alistair supplied when Teagan seemed utterly confused at her response. The Bann's eyes widened just a little, followed by his lips splitting in a bemused smile.

"I see. I suppose I should have expected no less from one of the famed 'Witches of the Wilds'?" Teagan shook his head in accepting resignation; "As long as you will not draw unneeded attention, that will do."

"Oh, have no fears. You will hardly even know I am there."

"That's…comforting, I suppose." Teagan allowed, rubbing the upper bridge of his nose with the heel of his palm; "There is another issue I need to take care off, before we leave tomorrow."

"Which is?" Alistair prompted, arms crossed over his chest for no apparent reason.

"There is a Qunari in the dungeons, as you might well remember." The Bann grumbled, sounding like he'd prefer the creature evaporated rather than having to deal with it; "Much as he has been docile for the duration of his imprisonment, I dare not leave Isolde and Connor under the same roof as him."

"You make one of these Qunari sound…invincible?" Brelyna asked, a slight tinge of trepidation in her voice; "Is he- are they really so powerful?"

"You've never seen a Qunari, have you?" Alistair mused, with something of a small, witty grin spreading on his lips. Brelyna sent him a flat look, basically stating that no, she had not yet been long enough in Thedas to see a Qunari.

"Most Qunari we know of tend to stay in their own lands, Par Vollen, primarily. Sometimes they do come south, or west in the case of Tevinter." Teagan offered helpfully, or at least tried to be.

"I know what they are." The Dunmer countered; "Leliana told us what they look like, but…They sound like Orcs, yet you seem to fear them?"

"If you piss an Orc off, is he goin' to rip your arms off at the shoulders?" Daveth grinned, seemingly the only person in a joking mood. Still, his words did make Talia blanch, just a little.

"Mostly I think he'd demand single-combat…but he might tear something off, yes." Brelyna replied, and Talia could have sworn she saw the Dunmer grin, just a tiny crease of her lips, when it was suddenly Daveth's turn to frown. He looked to Talia, as if hoping for her to assuage his trepidations, but all she did was to nod and grin.

"J'zargo once heard of an Orc who beat a man half to death with his own arm…" the Khajiit grinned evilly beneath his furs and moustached whiskers; "Then, he fed it to the man. Brelyna, how many Orcs serve in the Imperial Legions? This one has forgotten."

Oh, those two were just enjoying it now.

"I think it's in the tens of thousands, at least." The girl's pale lips creased in amusement at the internal joke between friends. This is where I was supposed to have added 'I heard it's in the twenty thousands' Damn my speech-impairment to the Seventh Plane.

Her own part of the jibe was left unsaid, however, as Teagan simply decided to have the matter over with, and led them to the dungeons. Talia wasn't sure how she felt about seeing yet-to-be-removed dark stains on the floor, or the scorch-marks on the walls where fireballs had removed unpleasant deceased-yet-walking villagers.

The cell Jowan had resided in, however, had seen its door repaired, and Talia now only had the words of her companions as testament to her act of cell-break…On the other hand, maybe it was all well the same, considering one of the owners of said cell was in the company. Besides, maybe seeing the cell "pristine" and without him inside it, could help Jowan get over this part. Closure, or something like that.

"Here he is…The reason Redcliffe is forced to go sober…" Teagan's voice was as dry as his humor, drawing Talia's eyes from him to the door he presented. Behind it, was a man.

The word 'Man' in this case might be somewhat insufficient, considering just what kind of a man this was. The Qunari was tall enough that the top of his head vanished above the door, giving him a rather curious appearance. He was bare-chested, dark-skinned enough to pass for a Redguard and had purple eyes beneath hair as grey as the ashes he'd left behind in place of a tavern. His beard was just as white, and short-cropped around his chin. It was, however, mainly the 'bare-chested' part that got Talia's attention, for obvious reasons. The Qunari's chest bulged with muscles and bore exotic tattoos varying from a blood-red to a pale grey, or maybe the latter was simply untattooed chest. Some, however, were covered by massive, muscled arms crossed before the man's chest, furthering the impression of physical prowess.

It was eye-candy, is what it was.

She attempted an appreciative whistle, but with the lack of a tongue, it was a blow of air that came out, nothing more. A few of the party sent her odd glances, but mainly all attention was directed at the Qunari in front of them. Talia somewhat sensed a few members of the group appreciated a metal door between them and the prisoner, though in truth he looked as if he could easily rip the door out.

"Do you know why you are here?" Teagan started, though his voice made it sound like he'd asked this before, and knew the answer as well. The Qunari directed flat, disinterested eyes at him. Not angry, not cowering – if that was even a thing with this race – and not even vengeful. Just…disinterested. Stoic.

"Yes."

"Did you have specific reason for burning down the tavern?"

"No."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I did not."

"Yes you did."

"No."

"Then why, if you please, did it burn down?"

"A candle was knocked over."

"And who knocked over the candle?"

"The Dwarf."

"So Dwyn knocked over the candle, correct?"

"Yes."

"And he did so because he was fleeing from you, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then have you considered that maybe it was your fault the tavern burned down?" the poor Bann already sounded tired, while the Qunari's expression hadn't changed one bit. Had he even blinked yet?

"No."

"Why not?"

"I did not knock over the candle, hence the fault is not mine." When Talia looked from the Qunari to Teagan, it looked like the poor sod was having a hard time restraining himself, and an eyelid was battering on its own, giving the Bann a rather…exhausted look.

"Even if you did not knock over the candle – but Maker help me, you're still to blame – every survivor of the fire states the same. That you ripped the door open and attacked the first man who got in your way. If nothing else, that's assault… though in your case it might as well be attempted manslaughter…" the Bann grumbled the last bit, as if he was afraid it would be taken as acknowledgement of the Qunari's strength. If it was, the prisoner did not show it.

"They were going to stop me. I could not let them."

"And you stopped them by breaking the arms and legs of two guests, giving the tavern-keep a concussion and shattering a man's hip by hitting him with a table?" Teagan exclaimed, anger thinly veiled behind his weary tone; "You attacked the people of Redcliffe, just to chase a dwarf?"

"He was a thief."

"Which makes it acceptable to beat up villagers?"

"…They would have stopped me."

"You could have…Why am I even doing this again?" the Bann groaned; "You don't even regret what happened, do you?"

"Yes."

"What?" something in Teagan's voice told Talia that he hadn't been at this point before. Interesting.

"I regret what happened."

"Regret is not going to rebuild the tavern."

"No."

"Oh for fuck's sake…" the Bann swore in a manner very much unbefitting of is title.

"Can I try?" Alistair asked, poking Teagan's shoulder like a child seeking attention. It worked, because the Bann simply stepped aside. Alistair stopped before the cell, and eyed the Qunari up and down. Talia bit her cheek. Was Alistair seeing the Qunari the same was she was? Disturbing, if so; "You're the first Qunari I've ever met. Who are you?"

"Sten."

"Odd name… what else?"

"I am Sten of the Beresaad." Which brought Talia to wonder if 'the Beresaad' was a city, town or even a country. Or maybe it was a religion?

"Okay, Sten. Why are you in that cell?"

"I just told him." There was a definite growl to Sten's tone now, far different than how he'd sounded through most of Teagan's questions.

"No, I meant why haven't you broken out yet?"

"The door is lock-" Teagan started, pointing at the cell-door's lock.

"I do not wish to escape."

"But you could." Alistair pressed, making Teagan frown.

"Yes."

"So, why don't you wish to escape?"

"I committed a crime, is it not customary for prisoners to remain in their cells for atonement?"

"But if you hadn't committed a crime, what would you do?"

"I would not be imprisoned."

"N-o-o-o, that's fairly obvious." Alistair deadpanned; "I mean, what would you do, if we didn't hold you here?"

"Return to my duty."

"Which is?"

"Pashaar, why do you prod me?"

"Because I'm curious by nature." Alistair replied with a spreading grin; "I'll rephrase it then: Would you like a reason to leave this prison?"

"There can be no reason. I must atone."

"How does one best atone, Qunari?" Morrigan broke in, possibly because she was as annoyed by Alistair as Sten was; "By sitting in contemplating imprisonment, or by doing good?"

Sten's eyes went to Morrigan so quickly, Talia almost got dizzy. Which was odd. Mainly because for once, Alistair seemed to know what Morrigan intended, or the other way around, and neither counteracted the other.

"What do you speak of?"

"You are a mighty warrior, are you not? There is a Blight going on: atone for your crimes by helping the Grey Wardens fight the Darkspawn."

"Are you actually considering-"

"…The Darkspawn are a worthy adversary. Defeating them would undoubtedly save countless lives." Sten surmised, sweeping a purple glare at the group as a whole, then nodded once; "Fighting the Darkspawn will be a chance for atonement."

"I guess you are…" Teagan sighed, rubbing his forehead; "Do you want him, Alistair?"

"I wouldn't mind a Qunari warrior having my back." The Senior Warden admitted with a shrug as he glanced to Sten; "That is, if you're not going to stab us in the backs?"

"The Qun does not believe 'stabbing in the backs' is a valid tactic." Whether that was a personal denial or not, Talia personally had no idea. Still, it was probably the best they'd get at this point. Heavy risk, but the price…

When Alistair looked around to ask for consent, she shrugged and nodded hers. The Princeling smiled faintly, more of a creased lip than anything else, really. His eyes, for some reason, stayed on Talia. She wasn't sure why, but figured he had a point, so she stepped closer.

"Talia, would you mind…opening the door?"

She stopped, blinked and looked first at him, then the door, and finally Teagan. Ripping out the molten lock in Jowan's cell had been excusable since they hadn't had neither key nor time to find it at the time, but was he actually asking her to do the very same thing here? Now? While Teagan was watching? Maybe he wants Sten to understand we're not toothless. The Cheese-muncher is learning: nice.

She nodded, stepped up and grabbed the lock, even as she focused magicka into the palm of her hand. Thus, when she gave Sten a sweet smile – which he only responded to with a look of extremely mild befuddlement – the air above the skin of her palm had already reached well over seven-hundred degrees – hot enough to melt through Dwemer metal – and her fingers started sinking into the metal almost upon contact. Within seconds, the metal dripped away like warm butter from the handle, and Talia took half a step back before opening the door itself with a curt bow.

Teagan looked like he'd been forced to eat something unpleasant. Poor sod, really.

Sten glanced at the molted lock as if it had insulted him, then shrugged and stepped out from the cell, seemingly indifferent to Talia's mock-reverent gesture.

Really, she'd done her best at making it as real as possible, but there was little way she could hide the grin from her face: Alistair was starting to pick up things along the way, which meant he wasn't going to be such a naïve king as she'd feared. Sort of. Considering the notion of him becoming king being important had only entered her mind a few days ago, there hadn't been the time for her to fear him being a naïve king.

"At least make sure he doesn't enter Isolde's sight." Teagan half-begged as the scene was punctuated with silence, mostly because everyone seemed to expect Sten to say something, which he didn't; "I highly doubt she'd be able to stand you releasing every dangerous prisoner she's locked up."

"…I'm…right here?" Jowan muttered, though he did not sound like he felt sure in his place to say it. Teagan sighed, though actually it was more of a groan, and stared at Jowan.

"And I'm still somewhat pissed at you, just so you know." The Bann replied dryly; "Intentional or not – and I'm leaning towards the 'not' here, but still, everything here started because of what you did, Jowan. I'm not saying Isolde didn't screw up, because Maker knows she did, but it was as a reaction to your actions…"

"…right."

"…Regardless, I would suggest we all retire for today. We're setting out for Denerim come sunrise tomorrow." Teagan announced, sounding most of all like he wanted this over with, and ten minutes ago, at that. Talia blinked at his words, concealing her inner, simmering rage. Sunrise? SUNRISE!? Are you even fucking SANE?!

But she instead nodded, as did the rest of the group. Expect for Sten, who merely regarded the scene with a casual expression of boredom. Gods, she hoped Alistair was right in this one: even Urag seemed to take more joy from the happenings of every day, and the man was stuck in a library as occupation. On the other hand, not the worst job ever, just saying.

Deciding that – for obvious reasons – she wasn't going to be the one to introduce Sten to the plans of Ferelden's last Grey Wardens, Talia instead set out to find something to eat. Not that she hadn't just eaten, but according to Daveth – which he used as a reason for how he could even eat Alistair's food – Grey Wardens received the magical boon of infinite bellies. Which was a weird condition, but not insufferable. And now she too, was hungry.

The only problem was that everyone else had already left her and Sten behind, and Talia didn't know one end of Redcliffe from the other. She'd take one wrong turn and probably end up in the moat, with her luck. Still, she didn't intend on sharing the dungeons with the only man she'd ever met less talkative than she was at the moment. It just seemed too much like a bad joke in the making, which was the reason she simply gave him a curt nod, and started out the way she remembered having run when the rooms had been full of cranky dead people. And shades, for some reason. Why do even Ferelden's ghosts seem to hate me with a passion?

When she was hallway up the stairs to the main hall from the courtyard, Talia realized she was being followed. As a noble, she'd been raised to recognize stalkers and potential assassins since the day she'd been able to walk from her own nursery. As a result of that, and the fact that this particular follower was built like a warrior, had coal-dark hair and an intricate tattoo over his right cheek, she simply smiled to herself and kept walking.

The game was progressing nicely, and her partner was showing definite, deliberate interest in her now.

When she reached a depopulated section of the corridors inside the castle – she'd long-since forgotten about the notion of 'dinner', Talia sidestepped around the corner and pressed herself back-first into the wall, out of sight from her pursuer. As she disappeared from view, she could hear the footsteps changing pace from cautious and silent, to a slight trot, echoing with frustration. A broad, wicked and just a little bit victorious grin spread on her lips. Hormones. You guys are the best friends a girl could wish for.

When Aedan finally came around the corner, he stumbled and almost fell flat from surprise at coming face-to-face – likely far sooner than he'd thought – with her. Talia leaned back, not bothering to hide the smirk when the raven-haired boy had to catch himself from falling, and in turn ended up extremely red-faced. It was beyond funny, even though it wasn't as nice as she wanted to be. Old habits.

"Maker's nose hair…" Aedan grumbled and cursed, even as he managed to regain a somewhat presentable posture – he was still flushed in the cheeks, making him look all the more adorable. All in all, the situation was just hilarious.

"Mmmm?" she relented at last, stepping out from the wall to be before him. It always surprised her that Aedan was a good few inches taller than her – tall enough that she'd had to stand slightly on tip-toes to deliver that kiss on the battlements. Just made for a better position, she supposed. It was also all the more adorable because all the best love-stories had scenes of the heroine standing tip-toes to kiss her beau. And I'm a sucker for those. Pathetic, I guess, considering everything that's going on, but there it is.

Aedan took a deep inhale of air, rubbing his hands together for want of anything else to do while his mind visibly worked on overtime. He seemed extremely out of his depth, and showed all the signs of anxiety she even knew of. Flushed cheeks, licked his lips, red ears, stuttering glances – as if to ensure no one would see him screw up – and shifting feet. Is this it? Is this the point where he gets the guts? Is it too soon?

For once, she actually didn't know. Made it all the more interesting, she supposed. But if the sensations thrumming around her chest and stomach were any indications, she was more than ready for it to start in earnest. But was it too soon? Could everything still be cocked up somehow? Too much bad shit had happened for her to want this gone as well.

Flirting was one thing, and so was stealing a kiss from bewildered boys – whom she happened to very much like – but if Aedan started admitting to feelings, admitted to wanting an actual commitment…Oh shit, I've seriously cocked this up already, haven't I?

If Aedan started wanting this too – which she actually really wanted him to want – then there could be far-reaching consequences, especially if his older brother didn't turn up. Few enough knew about Tamriel, and fewer still about her positon in Imperial Society. If this went bad…Best case scenario: It would be her ending things, leaving Aedan in an emotional pit. Worst case scenario, she'd end up utterly fucking up one of the major Noble Houses of Ferelden. By Azura, why do I never fucking think ahead? Prepare Alistair as future king and or plan examination of assorted fire-techniques? Got that covered. Avoid fucking over the Cousland Teyrnir by not getting romantically involved in a country that doesn't recognize my noble standing? Never crossed my mind.

But even as she suddenly knew she'd do Aedan a favor by turning around and walk away…Piss on it, she couldn't. Not with the expression on his face.

"I…wanted…Shit, I can't even expect a reply, what with the whole…thing, so…" he paused, scowled at himself, and breathed again. Talia was torn between fleeing, using her actual common sense of consequences, or staying, taking a piss on said consequences. Aedan's deep, soft brown eyes locked on hers, and suddenly it wasn't even a choice she had.

"I've been…thinking." He started again, averting his eyes, though the damage had been done: She couldn't move, neither away nor towards him; "…mostly, it's been about you…"

And she just stood there, suddenly helpless like a deer entranced by the hovering sphere of a magelight. She simply stood there, watching him wrestle out the words. She couldn't even come up with a reason to flee anymore. It was all gone, as if a gust of wind had blown away her sense of reason.

"I mean, the way we met it's pretty much obvious why, but…I don't think it really started, I really started thinking about you until…I think until…" he suddenly chuckled, though it was weak and without mirth; "I actually don't know when I started…seeing you for what you are – to me, I mean, but it's just been…growing, inside me. I find I can't stop thinking about you. When you're around, I can't help but want to look at you… When you're not around, I think about you."

Talia didn't move, didn't dare breathe, didn't dare blink. There was a cough building in her throat, but she refused to allow it emergence. She simply watched, and listened. Aedan was laying out his soul for her, that much was fairly clear. He shifted on his feet and took a step closer, just one, but it brought him a step closer to her. At this point, Talia was fairly sure he'd be able to see her heart beating its way out through her chest and robes.

What had happened to her plan, to her game? Suddenly, she no longer felt in control, no longer felt like she knew exactly what to do, how to string him. Now that sense of security was just gone, replaced with…she wasn't sure what. It didn't feel as much like a loss as it did being shown an uncharted region of land, and told to map it.

Was this…love?

No. No, it was not. Love would mean all sorts of cockups, screw-ups and emotional strain she just didn't know how to handle – it was reserved for people in books, for the kind of people who attended salons and sipped tea and brandy while gossiping on useless shit like the latest Cyrodiilic fashions, or who the Emperor's cousin was going to marry.

Infatuations and attractions she could handle. She knew how those things worked. But not this…sensation. It was foreign, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to toss it out the window or hug it close.

It suddenly occurred to her that Aedan had started speaking again.

"…which, I guess, is what I'm trying to say…And, I thought I'd gotten it down, understood how to deal with it, but…" Oh sheep-shit, she'd missed an important point, hadn't she? "Then, you…kissed me, and I just…I guess I just…don't know what to do."

The agonized expression in his face told her that yes, she'd definitely missed something important, and now she'd burn for it. Metaphorically speaking. She wanted, desperately wanted to step closer to him, to hug him, to offer some semblance of comfort, but… couldn't. She was nailed to the floor as effectively as had someone glued her there. And Aedan continued, seemingly getting his emotions a bit more under control, as the agonized expression was replaced by one of "mere" utter confusion and frustration.

"I have this…I…it hurts every time I look at you, and it's only gotten worse since the wall…" he gasped, almost as if for effect, but she knew it was deeper; "And I find I don't want it to stop hurting. It's…really weird, something I haven't tried before…You...you told me in the Fade that I only had to ask, so…I guess what I'm trying to say, trying…t-trying to ask, Talia is…"

"…Mmm?" it was the only sound she could have made, regardless of tongue or not. Talia found herself terrified at the strange, new situation where she had become so deeply, emotionally invested in a person that she was frightened of what could happen between them, in any direction. She wanted to look away, because looking into his eyes brought up sensations she couldn't control, couldn't determine. And it scared her more than any demons ever could. But she couldn't look away. It was as if his face had become everything there was- that and the small bits of corridor she could see around his face.

"Shit, I can't even…say it, because you can't say anything and…Maferath's balls, I…what I mean to sa-ask, is if…if you meant it. When you kissed me, did you mean it?" and he left it there, standing before her exposed and vulnerable.

She could say no – sort of – shake her head, turn around and flee, even punch him, just to make it clear that she didn't mean it, that there couldn't be anything between them, much as she personally wanted to.

She knew that if she said yes – again, sort of – nodded, remained or even kissed him, there'd be no turning back. Not for him, and definitely not for her.

It'd be something she'd have to cope with from today on out, a problem that could only keep growing, like a cancerous growth, until it burst, and someone got hurt. Wars, she knew, had broken out over less than what this could become. Feuds between families of their respective standings could lead to the suffering of untold numbers, and it'd all be her fault if she didn't step away from this. If she nodded, confirmed what she knew was true, what he probably knew was true, it'd be her starting a ravine of suffering in the future.

She nodded, biting her lip...

…And then fled the scene, aware of the dumbstruck expression on Aedan's face. She stopped herself after a mere five steps away, turned and looked beyond Aedan, as he stood there in confusion. Doubts and fears gnawed away at her, and she took a step closer to him, stopped and shuffled her feet, unable to make her body decide. She wanted to flee, to get away from all the feelings she didn't want to have because it would screw up the future. And she wanted to stay, because she wanted to find out just how far Aedan was finally willing to go.

"…Talia, are you…" he started, but stopped when she groaned and turned on the spot, trying to make up her mind. Gods, she hated him for this- for making her feel this uncertain and insecure! It was not like her, not what she had planned, and not how she wanted to go about this. She actually expected him to speak again, but his words still came as a surprise to her when he did; "…so, you…didn't mean it…right…"

His voice was broken, like someone who'd just lost all purpose to their existence. Hurt, agonized and barely suppressing the trembles within. She stopped, and looked at him, really looked. Aedan had gone from looking merely anxious and insecure, to utterly broken and looking a piece of emotional shit- which was basically how she felt about herself right about now. With a final groan, she threw caution to the winds of Oblivion. Fuck it. I've come this far.

Before Aedan even had a chance to react to her movements, Talia stopped her fidgeting and marched right up to him, much to his dawning surprise. She grabbed him by the shoulders, breathed a short, shaky breath, and stood on the tip-toes required to press her lips to his.

This time, it wasn't a light peck, not even a soft gesture of affection. This time, the kiss was hard, fierce and somehow, a lot more desperate for a return than she'd ever thought possible. Aedan made some odd, surprise and slightly shocked sounds, mostly muffled by the fact that his mouth ended on hers, but he seemed to get the picture quickly enough.

What started out - and remained so for several seconds - as Talia fiercely forcing her lips onto his, slowly became his hands cautiously taking a hold of her upper arms, almost as if he had to dare himself to actually touch her. Even so, it still meant his hands hesitantly beginning to grasp their new purpose. Talia just didn't bother giving them the time to do so unobstructed. Taking a deep breath through her nose, not breaking the kiss – she didn't dare, if he suddenly realized as she had just how monumentally horrible an idea this was – and forced his back into the wall. His eyes only widened slightly in surprise, which was all the more they could, considering they had been wide as saucers since she'd started the kiss.

Even without a tongue, she could still taste Aedan's breath in her mouth, and smelled him in her nostrils. She could feel his lips moving, slowly, without experience, trying to figure out just what to do with themselves. His hands, at least, seemed to have a bit more luck, as she pressed him against the wall – she was idly aware of the reversed image they likely presented: usually the girl was being pressed against the wall, though she'd never cared for the gender-set roles. They clutched her robes, pulling her closer to his chest, and she responded happily, no longer caring if she was screwing over the future both their Houses, potentially. One hand slid from Aedan's shoulder to his head, ravaging his short-cropped hair as she pulled him down, closer to herself.

He gasped, or maybe it was a groan, she didn't know. Didn't much care either. He pulled her towards him, and she returned the gesture, feeling her blood catch fire as she pressed her chest against his. She knew he could feel it too – could smell it in his breath, and feel it in the way it became shaky, rapid. Briefly, painful memories returned of the night in Highever, but were squashed by the raw intensity of his lips on hers. Beneath her legs, pressed tightly against him, she could feel her core heat, feel how her body responded to his, to the way he was holding her, demanding her, even if it was probably not fully conscious on his part. And yet, she could also feel him hardening through the layers of fabric.

She knew that if she didn't stop this now, neither would be able to at all.

Biting down the resentment at having to do this, to end the fierce and passionate embrace, she put just sufficient distance between their bodies, and softly, ever so softly, placed a hand on his chest, a gesture to stop. He did, but the look in his eyes spoke of a desperation, a hunger and a desire finally awoken. And she knew her own eyes likely displayed the same, making any future attempts at preventing disaster a lost cause.

She didn't break the kiss immediately however, but lingered more softly on his lips than before. She looked into his eyes and found herself dizzied by the intensity of his usually so soft, brown orbs. He hand changed, she realized now, and she'd missed it completely up until this point. His gaze was intense, desire and need declared clearly in it, but his eyes also held a warmth and a smile she had not often seen the equal off.

Finally, she pulled away from his lips completely, taking care not to bite her lips again. Her mouth moved oddly inside itself when she instinctively tried licking her lips, and nothing emerged from within it. It was a subconscious act of sudden anxiety, and it took most of her already strained willpower not to let it show. Aedan's face, as had he only now realized what was happening, started flushing a deep red, accompanied by his eyelids refusing to remain still. He blinked rapidly and repeatedly, as if in a daze. He likely was, actually.

"I'm…slightly confused…" he admitted after a few moments of shaky breathing. She noticed his fingers dancing, as if trying to grab onto her again through sheer want. He was likely feeling the same body-wide electric sensation she was, which brought more of the new heat into her body. This was new, something she'd never felt with anyone before, meaning it was beyond simple attraction or sexual desire. It was something deeper, somehow.

She couldn't help but smile at what had just happened, regardless of the future implications. Talia was well aware that she was pointedly beaming, and cared little for who saw it, as long as he did. Gods, what was coming over her?

"But, I…I am not sure how to go on, actually…" the words came out as stumbling as before, which was somehow all the more endearing, for reasons she couldn't put her finger on; "How…What happens now?"

He seemed to realize just how dumb it was a question to ask, considering she was incapable of replying, and instead frowned as he visibly worked to reword it.

"I suppose this means you did mean it, on the wall, then?" he tried, smiling shyly, which earned him a smile and a nod from her. At this point, Talia just listened again, feeling her body returning to normal, even if she still felt the desire and heat between her legs. He shifted on his feet, seemingly unsure about how to broach the sudden change in their relationship; "…So…I also assume I'm not supposed to tell anyone about this, right? Because I'm pretty sure I'd be too awkward to even…right, putting my foot in my mouth again…Shi- I mean, I'm…Damn…"

Talia just smiled at him, content with enjoying Aedan being Aedan, with everything involved. If they were meant to do this, and in doing so potentially ruin their Houses – or at least his – then she didn't want to miss a thing. It was also at this point that her stomach decided upon making its demands known, accompanied with a high-pitched growl from the her abdomen.

Aedan tried to conceal a nervous chuckle behind his balled fist, to little enough effect. She didn't even bother shaking her head at it – basically because it was funny as hell, if mainly because of how anti-climatic it was – and instead sighed contently at the situation. If this was to be, then…well, it was to be. Right now, she was hungry, and still more than a little turned on.

"So…Do you…uh, I mean, want get something to eat?"

They left Redcliffe the next morning, and despite the demonic hour of the day, Talia was in higher spirits than she could actually remember having been for months. Teagan, of course, rode in front, with Alistair besides him, while Aedan shared the road next to her.

Sten had been offered a horse, but had replied that Qunari did not ride. Which made sense, since he was probably big enough to reach the ground from the back of even the biggest horse available.

Enchanters Mabel and Nicholl, with their parts in this finished, set a course back for Kinloch hold without hesitation, while decided that only Cíada would be returning to the Tower. When asked, the old mage had replied that there was need of someone to ensure that Jowan did not cause additional mayhem, though even to the aforementioned recruit, it was obvious this was merely a cover.

"So I get to be stuck in the Tower again while you tour Ferelden?" the elven girl grumbled; "No fair, and you bloody well know it, Wynne!"

"As an enchanter of the Circle, I can take a leave of the Tower within certain limits." Wynne said, speaking with a small smile on her lips; "You, however, were only allowed leave because I argued with Irving that you would be of greater use in Redcliffe than at the Tower."

"So you're giving up on me as well, at last?" Cíada scowled, causing Wynne to frown; "I knew it, knew you'd run out of patience eventually... I can't heal, I can't make barriers, and I can't even make a spark of fire. Might as well just make me Tranquil while you're at it."

"Don't say that, it's only for a short time." The Enchanter admonished; "And you shouldn't joke with Tranquility, young lady, it's a path you would be unable to turn back from, and you wouldn't even know why you'd ever want to, if first committed."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're going on a field-trip while I'm going home- and don't you dare start mentioning Cul- any of those Templars." The girl's face heated to an almost red color, striking a curious contrast to her raven hair; "the Knight-Commander's going to be paranoid after this, no way he'd let anyone be alone with mages now."

"…do you really desire to accompany us, so badly that you'd be willing to risk the dangers of the Blight?" Leliana asked, more out of concern than because she had a say in it. She did, sort of, though she would be unlikely to make use of it.

"Yes she does..." Jowan muttered, most likely to himself rather than to the former Sister.

"There's no way the Blight's any more scary than Greagoir when he's pissed off."

"I knew it…" the sort-of Blood mage sighed. Talia raised a brow at that, though she didn't bother trying to figure out why he seemed hesitant at her coming with them. It was likely something between the two of them, and as such she really had no business prying. Not that she'd usually stop prying just because of that, but as it happened, she was currently more intent on thinking about the young man next to her than whatever relationship Jowan and Cíada shared. There hadn't seemed to be any bad blood between them earlier though.

"You do realize that I will not be able to prevent Greagoir from anger if you do not return as promised?" Wynne asked, though her exasperated tone made it clear that she'd basically given up the fight at this point.

"I doubt he'll be pissed if she's saved the world comin' home." Daveth chuckled, to which the girl nodded, grinned and earned them both an admonishing stare from her mentor. Seeing as the group had not actually made it past the Crossroads: a small assortment of huts and hovels that yet managed to outsize Rorikstead in Skyrim, Bann Teagan cleared his throat.

"If you do not mind, could we then perhaps get a move on?" the Bann asked impatiently; "The sooner we set out of Denerim proper, the less risk there is of Howe's eventual spies catching wind of our departure."

When it became clear for all to see that Wynne had resigned - the group now counting an extra mage – kicked their steads into a steady gait, and left the village and its surrounding countryside behind.

Mm Mmmm.

Gotta admit, I was really tempted to make this a full-blown encounter of the sexual kind, but...It would feel pre-mature, I think. Instead, I hope I can treat you great folks to a somewhat-slowmance, even if I personally would like nothing more than to make this one long steam-story. Ah well, I think I'd actually prefer it like this as well.

Also. Sten makes his entrance to the stage. YAY! :3

I would also like to thank you all for the fact that I have never had this much attention shown to my stories before. 10 reviews per chapter for the past, I dunno, six or so chapters...You have NO idea how glad that makes me :D

It's basically the reason I've been able to resume writing this soon, and that I am able to give you people this update.