Thanks for reading, all! I remember what fun this whole birthday section was to write - I hope it's as much fun to read.
The next day, the whole crew of them were acting strangely. Except Morrigan, who merely studied them all like specimens of odd bugs. Una had a reasonable suspicion of why they were all acting this way, but the specifics she wasn't sure about. And when the whole day went by—with whispered conversations and people disappearing into nearby farmholds—without any kind of birthday surprise appearing, she had to admit she was confused. She tried to ask Alistair about it at bedtime, and he kept saying "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," until finally he kissed her, which effectively stopped all the questions.
She was awakened by a rather annoying bird chirping outside her tent. Raising her head, she could tell it was full daylight outside—why had no one called her for her turn on watch? Groggily, Una got up and dressed. Poking her head out of the tent, she looked around. It was a beautiful day. Sunny and warm—and what was that smell? It was wonderfully familiar. Tantalizing and sweet and just a little … fried? She looked over at the fire, where Leliana was bent over a frying pan.
"What are you making?" she asked.
"Oh," Leliana said, looking up in surprise. "Happy birthday!"
Una groaned. "I knew it!"
"None of that, now." Alistair appeared, a huge grin on his face, carrying an armload of wood. "We're overdue for a day off anyway. Lots to do around camp. And you're not doing any of it."
"But I should clean my armor, and—"
"Nope," he said. "You are officially not in charge today, and those of us in charge say you are not to do anything useful. At all."
Una looked helplessly at Leliana, who shrugged. And held out a plate. "Crepes?"
"Crepes? Orlesian crepes?" Una's eyes widened. "It's been years. And strawberries, too?" Leliana nodded. "Well, maybe a little break might be a good idea." She took the plate, eagerly digging her fork into the thin, sweet pancake. Which was marvelous. "This is really, really good," she said between bites. Leliana watched the Grey Warden shovel in the food with widened eyes. She'd been worried about the recipe, whether it would come out all right … Clearly she'd managed to do a good job with the limited ingredients at her disposal.
"My work here is done," Leliana said with a bright smile, disappearing into her tent. Una could hear the sound of a blade being sharpened.
As Una licked the plate clean of the most delectable food she'd tasted in months, at least, she felt a presence next to her. Looking up, she saw Morrigan standing there, looking uncomfortable. "Happy birthday," the mage said stiffly.
"Thank you. You don't need to do anything, though," Una said. "This all was not my idea."
"Oh, I know quite well whose idea it was," Morrigan said. She glared at Alistair, who was whistling cheerfully as he … darned socks? Una was beginning to wonder if she'd hit her head and was having some kind of hallucination. "Is there more to it than the offer of felicitations?"
"No. That's enough. And appreciated."
"Ah. Then I must use this unexpected time off to my advantage." Morrigan returned to her own fire.
Grenli came over, looking longingly at the plate. "Oh, Gren, did I not save any for you? Sorry, boy. That was incredibly good." Lifting the dog's ear, she whispered into it. She giggled as she watched him duck his head into their tent. He snuffled around in Alistair's pack and emerged with a particularly smelly chunk of cheese, carrying it off to chew on.
"Hey!"
Una looked around. He was glaring at her.
"I was saving that."
"I know," she said. "And it smelled. Badly."
"Do you know what kind of cheese that was?"
"Stinky and disgusting. If you must obsess over cheeses, can you please do so over cheeses that don't smell … like that?"
"I'll have you know, that's very good cheese," Alistair said, affronted.
"And I'd rather eat that sock."
"It's yours, so go ahead."
"You— You're darning my socks?"
"I am. Doesn't get my cheese back, though, does it?" he pouted.
"No, and it won't. Seriously," she said. "Next time you bring something that smells like that into the tent, I'm sleeping with the mabari."
"He brings himself in there every night," Morrigan put in from her campfire. "You'll be spending many nights with your dog, I predict."
Alistair bristled, although not as much as usual, and Una sighed. It just never ended with those two.
She got up, stretching.
"My lady," purred the Antivan voice next to her elbow, "such a sight is truly deserving of a celebration."
"Ah, Zev," she said over Alistair's growl. "So glad to see you're feeling better."
"Indeed I am, lovely lady."
Muttering under his breath, Alistair took his bundle of socks and disappeared into the tent. Una hoped giving Grenli his cheese wouldn't ruin whatever plans her lover had for the day … but she couldn't regret it, either. It really had stunk. She turned her attention back to Zevran, who had produced seemingly out of nowhere a narrow sharp little knife.
"Um, you're planning to disembowel me right here in camp?"
"Not the first thing on my mind, no," he admitted. "Actually, this is a present. Happy birthday."
"A skinning knife?"
"No, no," said the Antivan. "Behold." A slender leather sheath with a little strap had appeared in his hands as well. He slid a hand down her calf to pull up her pant leg.
"Zev!"
"Just … demonstrating," he said, buckling the sheath around her leg inside her boot. The little knife fit perfectly inside. "You see, in case you are overpowered? And need a weapon at close quarters. If done correctly, the enemy will not even know he has been cut until his blood is all outside his body. I can instruct you in these arts, if you are of a mind."
"I'm not really—"
"I know, you are more of a smasher, wielding your giant hammer. But occasionally even a powerful warrior such as yourself is in need of a little … subtlety."
"Thank you, Zev." She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek, to the voluble disgust of Alistair, who had just emerged from the tent.
Zev disappeared into the trees at that point, and she heard the rhythmic thunk of his arrows as he practiced his archery. Soon enough, Leliana had emerged from her tent and a second set of arrow thunks joined the first.
"You know," Una murmured, "if any of your plans involve us being out of camp, it might be a good time to give those two some privacy."
"Those two?" Alistair looked confused. Then he followed her pointed gaze to the glade where the two rogues were practicing. "Leliana? And Zevran?"
"Shh!" Una hissed with urgency.
"You don't mean … what I think you mean?"
"Not if you keep shouting about it."
"Oh. All right, then," he said.
"That is, if you're still speaking to me."
He raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Maybe not exactly speaking." And suddenly the day was much warmer.
"Speaking definitely overrated," she offered, somewhat breathlessly.
He picked up a basket she didn't think she'd ever seen before, and handed her a pair of practice swords. Una looked at him questioningly. He nodded. "Oh, yes, before the day's out, you'll be bowing at the feet of the most powerful warrior in Ferelden."
"How exactly do I bow at my own feet?" she asked, following him out of camp.
"Aren't you cute? So optimistic," he cooed at her.
They had camped not far from Lake Calenhad, and he led her to a secluded spot near the lake, surrounded by willow trees, but with a nice broad expanse of grass. "You planned this all yesterday?" she asked.
"It was very difficult," he said. "With the food, and the location scouting … a lot of work. I wore myself out."
"I could tell," she said in mock disappointment. "Last night was a bit … lackluster." She sighed for effect, watching him closely, expecting the attack, but he merely grinned at her.
"Nice try." He handed her the larger of the two swords.
"What, no hammer?"
"You think I want you knocking me over the head with that thing? Thank you, no." He took the other sword and his shield. "Ready?"
For answer, she struck out, narrowly missing his stomach as he jumped back. "Lose focus in this game for one minute …"
He feinted with the sword, then struck at her with the shield. She twisted out of the way, coming around to land the edge of the wooden sword against his calf. She used the sword to lever herself back into stance, leaving him stumbling. He glared at her, and she waggled her eyebrows at him.
They struck and parried for a while, neither gaining any particular advantage. Both were breathing hard, their shirts stuck to their chests with sweat. Alistair called a break and pulled his off.
"No fair!" she said.
He grinned at her. "Go ahead. Make it even." The dark eyes dared her, but she remembered the last time they'd squared off, and the audience they'd gathered. No, she'd keep her shirt on. "I don't think we ever decided what I'll get when I win."
She watched a drop of sweat roll down his chest, over the well-defined muscles of his stomach … "What?"
He threw back his head and laughed. It really was a very warm day, she thought. Suddenly much warmer. "What do I get when I win?"
"You say that as though it has a chance of happening." She tried a straight thrust to the chest, which he parried. Their blades were crossed now, their bodies almost touching. Without thinking about it, she swayed just the tiniest bit closer, allowing her nipples, hardened to points beneath her shirt, to brush his naked chest. The spicy scent of his cologne was intoxicating. She swallowed.
"You could … concede," he said raggedly.
Una looked into his eyes, which were smoldering like coals. And grinned. "Not a chance." She unlocked her blade from his with a swift movement, whirling and slashing. His shield automatically came up to block the blow. They reset, slowly circling each other. Each of them tried a couple of swipes at the other. Then she swept out with the sword. Alistair hit back with the shield, knocking her off balance, and he charged forward, pinning her against a tree with his shield arm, knocking the sword from her hands. But before he could get his sword in place, he felt the tiny knife at his throat.
"I believe I win," she said triumphantly.
"No, no, absolutely not. Cheating! I won—I knocked you out of battle."
"But you'd have been dead before you got your sword ready."
"It was a test of who's the best warrior, not who would die first!"
She slid the little knife back into her sheath. "I'd say the best warrior is the one who survives the battle, wouldn't you?"
"I would not!" He dropped the shield and sword, holding her pinned against the tree with his body, his breath coming in harsh pants. "You clearly lost!"
"I did not!"
And then he was kissing her, his mouth savage on hers. She took his head in her hands, holding him to her, kissing him back with equal frenzy. She felt him fumbling with both sets of breeches, and then he was thrusting into her as her legs wrapped around him, lifting her off the ground, all the pent-up adrenaline exploding out of both of them.
When the storm had passed, he leaned his head, dark with sweat, against her shoulder. "Rematch?" she asked him breathlessly.
"Rematch," he sighed, panting. "Have to. But no cheating."
"What's that supposed to mean, Ser Oh-it's-so-hot-let-me-take-my-shirt-off?"
"Point taken."
"So, lunch?" he asked, once they'd gotten their breathing back to normal and straightened out their clothes. He gestured to the picnic basket.
"What do you have in there?"
He started unpacking. "Fresh bread, baked yesterday. Cheese."
"Of course. Does it smell?"
"Yes, it smells wonderful," he said.
"I'll bet. Pass on the cheese."
"That's the best part!"
"Then you won't mind if I leave it for you," she said, smiling sweetly at him.
Alistair grumbled, diving back into the basket. "Wine, too." He sliced off a hunk of the fresh bread, handing it to her. It was heavenly to taste something baked in an actual oven again. Leliana did wonders, but real baking was beyond the capabilities of the campfire. "You sure about the cheese?" He waved the smelly stuff under her nose.
"Can't you eat normal cheese? Hard, non-smelly cheese?"
He shook his head at her. "For a fine, titled lady, you have surprisingly common tastes in cheese."
"And for a Chantry orphan, you have surprisingly expensive tastes." She stretched out on her back, enjoying the sun. "Where exactly did you develop this taste for expensively disgusting cheeses, anyway?"
Lying down on his stomach next to her, Alistair laughed. "Bann Teagan, actually," he said, and he launched into the story.
The lovers, enjoying a precious lazy day together, didn't notice the various sets of eyes passing through the trees around them. But they were observed.
Leliana came past, looking for herbs to add to the stew for dinner. Catching sight of the two of them looking so young and happy together, she stopped. Pain flitted over her face as she remembered certain times in her own life when she had looked at someone that way and thought it was forever. She sighed, moving on.
Wynne and Grenli, out for a walk together, paused to watch. In the distance, Una lay laughing, one hand reaching out to tousle Alistair's hair as he tried to wrestle her away. "Meant to be," was it? Wynne thought. Maybe so. But she shook her head anyway, hoping the distraction wouldn't prove disastrous eventually. The mabari, on the other hand, watched his mistress with joyous eyes. It had been a long time since he'd seen her happy this way. Finally she looked and acted like the young mistress who had first won his loyalty.
Zevran slipped through the trees, his face inscrutable. Una sat up on her knees, hands waving in the air, telling some kind of involved story to Alistair, who lay on his side with his head propped up on one hand. The elf's eyes narrowed. Was he thinking of his oath? Remembering a past moment of doing nothing with someone precious to him? It was hard to tell. He shook his head, slipping noiselessly through the trees.
The raven landed on a tree above their heads, looking down as the young couple embraced and kissed. This love could prove quite inconvenient, thought the bird who was Morrigan. Her mother had warned her to watch for it, warned her that the obvious draw between the two young Wardens could ruin their plans. Although, given Alistair's distaste for her, Morrigan could believe that the other woman provided leverage that she might need later. If she could keep on Una's good side. The raven flapped away again, leaving the lovers undisturbed.