Bioware's beach. I'm just making sand castles.

Part 35

"Why is he acting like this?" Moira demanded two nights from Perivantium as they were on the road to Cumberland in the Free Marches. She and Alistair were lying in the tent they had shared with Zevran, but the elf had retreated to his own tent every night since they'd left.

Alistair wrapped his arms around her tighter, "It's up to him to tell you."

She turned her head that was pillowed on his biceps and stared at him in the gloomy dimness of the tent. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't fix this, Moira. He has to do it himself." Alistair did his best to keep his face impassive as he looked at her, but his fingers knotted into fists as she tried to wriggle out of their bedding. He tightened his arms and she growled in frustration. He grinned, thinking about how adorable she sounded, but glad she couldn't quite make out his expression.

"Let me go, Alistair."

"No. You can't fix this," he repeated. "In this instance, there's nothing you can do except give him time."

She settled back against his chest and he was relieved she wasn't going to augment her strength with her mana yet and give him a chance to talk to her. "Is this jealousy on your part, Alistair?" Her voice was quiet, without the accusatory tone to go with the words.

Pain flared through his chest at her words, "Actually, no. I'm well aware this is essentially the end for us, Moira, as much as it kills me. We won't be together again like this when we reach Denerim." He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply, tightening his arms around her again. "He said he told you about Rinna?"

"Oh, Maker."

"Yeah. You're going to have to give him time, Moira."

She wriggled until every part of her back and rear were pressed against him, "All right."

She shifted her hips and he felt his own response instantly and groaned softly into her hair. "Don't do that." A quiet laugh was his reply as well as another shift of her hips. "Seriously, Moira, we need to talk."

She twisted to look at him as he propped himself on an elbow, "All right. What?"

Alistair felt his stomach twist into knots at her tone, "I don't really want to do this, you know."

Her tiny hand reached up to cup his jawline, "I know. It's killing me, too. Regardless of what I feel for Zev. I will always love you, Alistair."

His felt his heart pound and allowed himself to drop his head onto her shoulder, her arm coming up around his neck to let her fingers trail in his hair. He held on to her as tightly as he could without crushing her. "I never should have let you do it, you know."

Her voice was puzzled, "Do what? I'm sure there's a great many things you probably shouldn't have let me do, but you rarely tried to stop me."

He held himself up just enough to look her in the eyes in the near-darkness of the tent. "I shouldn't have forced you to lead. I shouldn't have let you make me king. I should have knocked the cup out of Duncan's hand the second he held it out to you."

He waited while she stared at him, her beautiful face unreadable. Finally, she said, "You didn't force me to do anything, Alistair. And you helped me make every single decision I ever made, including making you king. And Duncan would have killed you for that. Or worse, sent us back out for more darkspawn blood." He saw the flash of her even, white teeth in the darkness with her last statement.

He mock growled and dug his fingers into her sides until she squealed in laughter, "Getting more blood would be worse than me dying? You little minx! Take that!" She pushed futilely at his hands, gasping for air between fits of laughter. He stilled his fingers and captured her mouth with his. She shifted under him until she could wrap her legs around his hips. Her arms went around his neck and his heart pounded harder as she returned his kiss with the same hunger.

They made love slowly and gently that night. Every other time since his release from Weisshaupt, there'd been a frantic component to Alistair's and Moira's unions that gave way this night to tenderness as each simply tried to memorize everything about the other. Cumberland was fast approaching and after that, Denerim was only two weeks away by boat, a week, if they found a fast ship like The Siren's Call. After, Moira lay curled up against Alistair, her head on his chest, her raven curls draped over the makeshift pillow. He stared up at the ceiling of the tent, drawing his fingers gently through her hair. Sleep wasn't coming easily, despite his fatigue and the gently snoring elf mage in his arms.

Denerim was approaching too quickly.

The travel to Cumberland was slow, since it was overland and the roads were poor. Other than a few attacks by wildlife and highwaymen, they traveled unmolested. And Alistair watched the growing rift between the two elves worriedly. He wasn't entirely sure why Zevran was acting as if everything before Perivantium had never happened.

Correction, he was acting as if it didn't matter. And Alistair was left with the rather difficult task of comforting his lover over the loss of her other lover. Leliana couldn't tell a tale this twisted. He sat staring into the fire as Moira gathered every dish in camp to wash in an effort to simply stay busy. She'd lifted her load of pots and plates and with a glare, ordered only Perrin to accompany her. The king glanced up from the flames to find Zevran staring off in the direction Moira had disappeared to while he repeatedly sharpened the same spot over and over on his dagger. Shale had gone off to find more wood and Cullen was studiously ignoring both Zevran and Alistair, while Wynne and Jowan were talking shop as they all ate.

As Alistair watched, Zevran seemed to come to some sort of decision and sheathed his dagger in his boot. He stood up, and pocketing the whetstone, he walked in Moira's direction. Alistair rolled his eyes. The bloody elf was just going to make things worse. Not even Alistair would try and approach her in this mood, especially not with Perrin picking up her emotions and acting on them. The mabari had been irritable all day along with his mistress. He got up to follow him, not quite as silently and gracefully as the assassin, but he did he best. It wasn't easy to sneak around in full plate armor, even if it was dragonbone.

He finally found them, standing in a small clearing near a stream, lit by a small ball of light Moira had conjured to let her see what she was doing. Perrin was nowhere to be seen. She was glaring up at Zevran, her small hands on her hips, her long black hair tied at her nape to keep it out of her way. The blue silk of the mage robes she was wearing shone with each of her movements in the flicking light. Alistair leaned against a tree to watch. He knew he should be ashamed of eavesdropping, but whatever these two did would impact him as well. At least until Denerim.

Zevran stood in front of her, his posture uncertain, which was alien for the elf. "You have treated me like a consolation prize from the very beginning, Moira. How can you blame me for being wary?"

Her voice broke, "A consolation prize? A consolation prize!" Alistair winced in sympathy as she slapped the taller elf across his tanned cheek. "You – and no one else—were the first person I took to my bed! How is that a consolation prize?"

Zevran clenched his fists, but held his hands at his sides, not even lifting one hand to touch his stinging jaw. "You were in love with Alistair even then!"

"And you couldn't make up your mind which of us to bed first!" she snarled back. "Sometimes I wonder if the only reason I got that honor is because he doesn't like men!"

Alistair felt his stomach clench, is that what she actually thought, that she was Zevran's consolation prize as well? He remembered the elf questioning every single one of their companions except him and Wynne regarding their loyalty to her. He was pretty sure the elf shook down Bodhan at one point. "Do you truly believe that, mi amora?" Alistair was astonished to hear pain in the elf's voice.

"Don't call me that unless you mean it." Her voice was low, warning him.

The assassin spun away, his gloved hands over his eyes, "You are the most irritating woman! I am trying to apologize for being an ass!" Moira's jaw dropped at the same time Zevran spun back to her and grapped her upper arms, yanking him to her. "I pushed you away. Again! I'm still pushing you away!"

Tilting her head up to look at him, she responded, "Yes, you did and you are. Why?"

"Because you shouldn't trust me."

"You're an idiot, Zevran Arainai."

He hung his head, "I know." He turned to look right where Alistair was standing in the shadows of the trees, "You can come out now, my Warden."

Annoyed he was found out, Alistair nonetheless complied with the request. "Are you done?"

Zevran released Moira and Alistair watched his approach warily. He decided he didn't like the sly grin on the other man's face and stepped backward. The last thing the king wanted was another kiss from the assassin. Seeing him step back, Zevran's face fell into a pout, "I am merely trying to apologize to you, as well."

Alistair held up his hands, "Don't worry about it. Apology accepted. Just stay right there."

Moira made an exasperated noise, "Don't change the subject, Zevran!" He turned to look at her and Alistair could see the small muscle in his jaw working as he clenched his teeth, despite his irreverent expression. The mage put her hands back on her hips and demanded, "I want to know why I should not trust you?"

"I am an assassin," he told her, stepping back.

She advanced, "And? I'm a mage. I'm far less trustworthy than you. After all, I could traffic in demons at the drop of a hat! Try again."

Zevran stepped back again, "I tried to kill you."

"It was only the once and it didn't take. Try again." She advanced after him.

He took two steps back, "I have a price."

"Everyone has a price, Zevran. What is yours?" She took three steps forward until they were almost touching. Alistair felt like he was intruding, but he couldn't stop watching. He wrenched his eyes away and turned to leave, but Moira's voice stopped him cold, "Don't move. I'm not through with you yet, either."

The ex-Templar turned to look at the tiny woman he loved and found her glaring at him, with Zevran staring at her, a terrified expression on his face. Satisfied he wasn't going anywhere, Moira turned back to Zevran, but not before he'd managed to wipe the fear from his face, "Well?" she demanded.

"I – ,"

"You can't name one, can you? There's no price in Thedas that would get you to betray us. To betray me." He back up again. Where he thought he was going, Alistair had no idea. "Why shouldn't I trust you? Tell me!" She shouted.

Something in Zevran seemed to snap, his full lips twisted with rage and his hazle eyes narrowed to slits. He grabbed her arms again and bent to hiss at her, "Because I kill everyone I love!"