A/N: Some fluff…and more rain…you have been warned (again). I wanted to get this out on a particular day in February, but…meh…

Just remember – true love is a Mabari…or a block of cheese.

-oo-

Chapter 28 – Joining

Maker, I hate my job…

He'd gone down to the Smithy to look over the men that Garavel had managed to 'recruit'. It had been a terrifying experience. The men were keen, but they were only farmers, used to wielding pitchforks or scythes. Most of them had selected weapons more like their farming tools – those were the implements they were most comfortable with, after all – but unless the Darkspawn suddenly turned into a wolf or a fox, or a particularly nasty and persistent weed, he had serious concerns. He'd almost sent them home except that Garavel had promised to take them under his wing and put them through some rudimentary training…very quickly.

He wasn't feeling particularly confident they were up to the task.

At least the rain had let up a little, which wasn't saying much. He still got soaked to the skin sprinting the short distance from Master Wade's workshop to the Keep. Kristoff was waiting for him in the main hall this time. The other Grey Warden had dried off; and was thankfully not wearing one of Merran's grey knitted hats, which was something – at least - of a relief.

"Seneschal Varel and the two recruits are ready for the Joining, Warden Commander," Kristoff informed him as the two men fell into step across the wide space. It was tempting to stop and warm himself by the blazing brazier, but the sooner they put Sigrun and Velanna through the Joining, the better.

"May I ask how the 'other recruits' look, Ser?" Kristoff added.

Alistair groaned inwardly. Does everyone have to be so formal around me? I do actually have a name…

"If you mean the farmers and labourers…" he told Kristoff with a shake of his head. "I'd be happier if they just stayed with the women and children…We're fighting Darkspawn, not harvesting corn…" or whatever it is they grow around here…

Kristoff chuckled; a deep, oddly cheerful sound that took Alistair by surprise. He didn't normally associate laughter with the grizzled, stubbled-headed man. He was finding out a lot about his Second in Command in a very short space of time.

"I think you would be surprised, Warden Commander" Kristoff said. "I have come to know Fereldan farmers well. They build strong bodies working in the fields. Where they might lack battle experience or combat technique, they make up for in strength and stamina. And these people aren't just fighting because they've been trained to do so. They fight to protect their livelihoods. That's a very strong incentive. I know I would certainly think twice about taking on a man wielding a scythe armed with only my great sword."

Well…if you say so, Alistair thought; though he was still not convinced. Leaving Merran in the hands of such people still filled him with dread…

Speaking of…Merran was in Varel's office, chatting amiably to Sigrun; the two of them laughing when they arrived; a welcome sight on such a grim, dark day. He couldn't help smiling at the two of them though Merran stopped giggling at the sight of him, frowning in disapproval at his dishevelled state. Yes, he knew his hair was plastered to his head. Yes, he knew his beard probably had a twig in it and yes, he also knew he was dripping muddy water onto Varel's clean rug. He was also starting to smell like a damp cellar, but it couldn't be helped.

He turned to Varel. "Shall we begin?"

The Seneschal gave a nod. He recited the Joining speech and handed the goblet first to Sigrun. She sniffed at the goblet, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Bad vintage…" she muttered before taking a mouthful, handing it back to Varel. As soon as the Seneschal took the goblet back, her eyes rolled back into her head and she dropped like a small armoured stone. Merran rushed to her side.

"She's still breathing," Merran her touched her chest, as though by doing so she would be able to slow a too-fast heartbeat. "She's all right."

Velanna glanced at Sigrun's sleeping form before practically snatching the goblet from Varel's hands. She took a sip as well, grimacing at the taste, then she too fell backwards with a loud thump.

"Also okay," Merran pronounced with a second relieved sigh. She turned to Varel. "Will you keep watch Robert? I know it's late, but…"

"I will, Warden."

"Thank you." She stood up and stomped her way over to Alistair. "Right," she said, folding her arms and scowling up at him. "Now this is over…You. Come with me." Then she stomped to the door and threw it open. "Good night Markus. Good night Robert." She glared at Alistair. "Warden Commander?"

Annoyed at being addressed by one of his titles, Alistair hesitated. Of all people…to be called Warden Commander by Merran…even if it annoyed him more that she was ordering him around in front of both his second in command and his Seneschal…And what if he still had business to complete with his men? It was the outside of enough…Still he followed, glowering at her as he passed her in the doorway. Once the door was closed behind them and they had started down the passageway, he growled his disgruntlement at her.

"You know, I am still Warden Commander…and the Arl…"

"Yes!" she snapped. "I know! And you're going to catch your death – no stupid comments, Alistair! – sitting around sopping wet and freezing cold."

She was right. He could really do with being warmed up and dried off. He'd forgotten when he'd last been able to feel his toes or his fingers and his ears hurt from the cold, but he wasn't about to admit it.

"You can't turn my armour into a funny colour or change my feet into flippers," he retorted. "You don't scare me any more."

"You're not going to do anyone a favour if you go into battle tired, sick or hungry!" she hissed at him, because they were now in the sleeping quarters, close to their rooms and people were sleeping. "You're not seriously thinking of staying up all night!"

Well, no…But he wasn't going to admit that either. He was tired, chilled and hungry again but her stating the obvious made him feel like being contrary. He wanted to goad her, just to see how far she would go. It was a golden moment for him. She was just an ordinary Mage now and he could unleash all his Templar abilities on her just like any other ordinary Mage. It was probably unfair, being just as tired and anxious and worried as all hell about the safety of the people in the Keep, but while discomfort shortened his temper, it broadened his curiosity. What would a mage formerly used to turning people randomly into crawling things do when she was properly riled? Plus he was enjoying the fact that she was concerned for his welfare.

"What if I am?" he shot back, sounding even to his own ears, childish and stupid. "There's a lot of work yet to be done, Merran. If I don't do it, who will?"

"You can delegate, Alistair!" Her hands curled into fists by her sides and her eyes were spitting sparks. He'd missed that. The fire in her eyes when she was angry at him – or anyone really, it didn't necessarily have to be him. "And you…"

The closest door opened to a tousled blonde head, trailing a blanket. Cullen poked her nose through the door next to Brogan, giving them both a scolding huff.

"Noisy, mummy…" Brogan rubbed his eyes with tiny fists. Merran immediately dropped to her knees, apologising profusely while she hugged him tightly. Over her shoulder, Brogan looked up at Alistair and poked his tongue at him. Alistair glared at the boy…so this one wasn't above a bit of winding Merran around his little Dwarven finger…Ah-ha, he thought darkly. I am so onto you, brat…

"Cullen says the bad men will come soon…" Brogan said, screwing up his nose and giving her a watery sniffle. "They'll come and take my mummy again…"

"Oh, no, no, no…" Merran reassured him, picking him up blanket and all. She stepped into the room. Alistair leant against the wall, folding his arms prepared to wait, when a sharp voice inside commanded him, "Alistair! Get in here!"

Rolling his eyes, he too entered the room. He saw Cullen had dragged one of his furs to this room so she could sleep by Brogan's bed. Traitor…Merran had put the child back in bed, tucking him in so tight it was a wonder the thing could breathe.

"What's that sodding nug humper doing in my room?" Brogan growled at him.

"Hush Brogan, this is the Warden Commander and the Arl," Merran threw him look that said, stop looming…! "You should be polite."

"I don't like him," Brogan stated stubbornly. "He looks stoopid."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Merran stroked Brogan's hair soothingly. "He's only pretending to look stupid," she told him knowledgeably.

"Nah…" Brogan said confidently. "He's stoopid."

Behind Merran, Alistair bristled and loomed some more until she reached back and took his hand, tugging him closer to the bed. Cullen had rolled up into a mound of fur on the rug, her rear end almost indistinguishable from her front. Her eyes opened briefly to stare up at him in canine exasperation. He bristled at her too – distracted when Merran brought his hand up to her cheek.

"He's a Grey Warden," she told the boy persuasively. "You like Grey Wardens, don't you?"

Brogan sniffed, as though he didn't believe the stupid-looking wet man could be one of those. Alistair helpfully curled his lip at him under his chilly moustache. Annoying, snotty-nosed brat…

"He's killed three dragons."

Alistair looked down at Merran, eyebrows raised. It hadn't been three exactly. The third one had been defeated by Merran…"A hundred Ogres…" she added. He thought over that one too. Hm…that might be accurate…"And millions of Darkspawn…" Now hang on…no, no, wait…that might be correct too.

Brogan regarded him with a sceptical eye. "I don't like him," he stated simply.

Alistair leant down and growled, "I don't like you either."

"You smell funny."

"You smell even funnier."

"And you look stoopid."

"Not as stoopid as you."

Brogan fought a smile and lost. "I'm not stoopid…" he said on a wide yawn. "You're stoopider."

"That's not even a word, stupid." This time the boy giggled, wriggling down further under the blanket until only his two eyes showed, his blond hair sticking up behind his head on the pillow like feathers, muttering, "Ya dumb nug…" on another yawn. Then he simply rolled over and fell asleep. Just like that…Alistair blinked in amazement, wishing he had that ability. To just accept and then poof! Out like a light in a deep, unshakeable sleep.

Merran leant over and kissed the top of the boy's head. Standing up, she gazed on him with a soft look on her face. "He's such a dear…" she whispered affectionately. By this time, Alistair's eyebrows had joined with his hairline. A dear…? He wouldn't put it that way…

With a sigh she reached down and gave Cullen a little pat, then tugged him out of the room, not that he wasn't happy to leave it.

"You know," Alistair began, once she had closed the door behind them. "I'm sure there are some good schools in Ferelden you could send him too – ouch! – it was just a suggestion!"

"That wouldn't have hurt," she reminded him. "You're still in your disgusting armour and no, I am certainly not sending him away. How would you like it if…well you were sent away weren't you? How did you feel?"

"Grateful I didn't have to listen to the harpy the Arl was married to," he told her with a grin. "Ouch! You're very violent tonight."

"I'm practising for the Darkspawn…" she told him haughtily. She pointed down the hallway. "Go. Now. Your room."

He stopped, wondering how far he could push his luck when she was in a mood like this…not that it wasn't his fault she was…"I'll need help with my armour…"

She sighed. "Silly, I was going to help you anyway. You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'll need a bath."

"I had it filled, but it's probably gone cold by now."

"Will you scrub my back?"

"Are you channelling Zevran?" she asked, hands on hips. "You are, you…Ooh! If you're not careful I'll be forced to say a rude word and then you'll be sorry!" She bustled him onwards, the two of them practically falling through the door to his room. It was just as well she was there to help him with the armour. His fingers were so stiff with cold, he could barely feel where the buckles were, much less undo them, watching her struggle herself and enjoying himself immensely as she helped to remove his armour, tired as he was. He did defrost enough to help her put the armour into a pile outside. In her usual efficient way, she had arranged for one of the Keep's servants to have it cleaned and inspected by Wade – if the man was still awake. She didn't however, help him out of the sopping underpadding, leaving that to him to peel off in the wet room.

She had indeed had the bath filled. The water was tepid, but as it was still several degrees warmer than he was, it was a blessing to sink into it. He had just been about to submerge himself completely when he heard her warning, "And for goodness sake, please don't fall asleep in the bath. I don't want to find you drowned when I come back." Eh? Come back?

"Where are you going?" he called after her – but there was no answer, so he dunked himself under the water anyway.

He emerged feeling a great deal better, leaning his arms against the edge of the bath. He must have fallen asleep, as the next thing he knew, he was being shaken.

"What did I tell you?" she scolded.

"Nag," he blinked blearily at her. Yawning, he climbed out of the bath, standing buck-naked in the middle of the room and feeling slightly disoriented. She threw a cloth over his head.

"Do you think you can manage something to eat?" she asked. "Bronwyn kept some pea stew warm for you." Oh yeah, Bronwyn's famous Ferelden lamb and pea stew…It was the same one that he had made so many times when they had been travelling, although the Keep's cook made hers somewhat differently. She used real lamb, for a start and spent hours shelling a small mountain of peas that she simmered separately and added last. It was the wrong colour and had potatoes in it as well as carrots and other green things that he was sure were bad for him, but it did taste damn good. He dried off and entered the room, finding her already in bed.

"Andraste's burning sword, it's cold!" she said, reaching down to drag a fur across her feet.

Alistair ate standing, watching her wrestle with the bed clothes. It might be the last time he saw her…He and the rest of the Amaranthine group would be leaving in a few short hours…anything could happen to either of them. He should be used to it by now – the separation, the doubt, the worry; wondering whether either would survive their next battle – but he wasn't. It felt worse. All those months when he'd been without her, he'd slipped into a jagged rhythm that – while difficult – kept him going. Since she'd come back…every time they'd had to part it was like Fort Drakon all over again. Magnified.

"Merran…"

"I wish Cullen hadn't taken the last…sorry?"

"Could you…do me a favour?"

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You should really get some sleep tonight," she told him.

He waggled his spoon at her. "Get your mind out of the gutter," he suggested. "No, there's a box on the table over there. Could you fetch it for me?"

She looked around and spotted the wooden box on the other side. Without getting out from under the covers, she wiggled across the bed and picked it up. Holding it aloft, she asked. "What do you want with it? Does it have your shaving stuff in it or something?"

"No," he said, finishing the last of the stew. "Just open it for me will you?"

"Oh sure…" He half turned, replacing the bowl onto the tray, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She lifted the tiny catch and raised the lid, starting a little at the contents of the box. "Golly…" she breathed. "It's beau…" She looked up at him suddenly, her mouth ajar. "Is this…?" She looked back down to the rose in the box. "It can't be…it just looks like it…No, it can't be."

"It is," he told her. She gaped at him again. He'd had it remade – again – this time by Master Wade. It hadn't taken too much persuasion, though time had been an issue. The bud was still kept intact, but he'd had Wade turn the stem into a necklace. The master smith had outdone himself. He was used to creating works of art on armour, but had strayed just a little from his normal craft, spinning such fine filigree out of the stem it looked as though the rose was suspended from a spider web of stars.

"Do you remember Sandal?" he asked her. She nodded silently. "I had him convert the original rose into metal and lyrium." Well…it was a complicated process that I couldn't understand anyway. "And Master Wade finished it into a necklace."

"Well, it's lovely Alistair." She began to close the box; his hand darting out to stop her.

"It's for you."

"Me?" She gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. Chewing on her lower lip, she added. "I can't accept this Alistair. It's much too fine."

"What?"

"No one's ever given anything like this to me before…I mean, I don't mean to be ungrateful but…It's just too beautiful…What if I break it or lose it or…"

"Well…" he said reasonably. "Think of it as a, I don't know…a…a wedding gift."

He could see her mouthing the words to herself. When she turned, frowning, he was already kneeling – except that the sheet he'd wrapped around his middle had gotten snagged on his foot when he'd lowered himself onto the one knee and had come undone, falling to the floor. He pressed on regardless.

"Marry me, Merran."

She blinked furiously at him, trying very hard not to laugh.

"I love you," he told her. "You know that and I don't want to be with anyone else. I can't imagine being with anyone else. I know we've joked about this before, but this time I'm serious. Marry me. Be my wife. The Arlessa…Mrs Warden Commander, whatever. Just say you will."

She rolled onto her stomach, almost eye to eye with him. "Well this is…" she shook her head at him. "This is definitely…huh. You know, I've never been proposed to by a naked man before," she told him with mock seriousness. "It's…a…I think I like it."

"Is that a yes?" he asked. "It had better be."

She turned actually serious this time. Refusing to meet his eyes, she asked in a small voice, "You really think that the two of us could…"

"Yes. I do."

Merran looked at him then, really looked at him. She reached out slowly, touching his cheek. "In that case," she told him, the frown replaced by a widening smile. "Yes."

Whether or not she kissed him then, or he kissed her, he didn't much care, crawling under the blankets with her, lip-locked, because it was damned cold on the bare stone floor and he didn't want to turn back into the human ice-block. All he could think of was yes…! Mine…all mine…and about bloody time too…

-oo-