I wish I owned...
"Sister, stop wearing a hole in the floor," Gabriel chides from his tattered chair, "The Crow is breathing, so you already know he will live."
"Like anyone would notice one more hole in this wreck," Lynx snipes, but abandons her frantic pacing and settles for stoking the fire dancing in the massive stone hearth, "It didn't take me this long to wake up."
"That's because you have the constitution of a dwarf," he smirks, though his eyes drift to Morrigan as she stomps through the chambers, "I have a feeling that she is less than pleased about Zevran joining our ranks."
The elven woman glances in the direction the other mage had thundered and shrugs an indifferent shoulder, "I'm not here to garner her approval and she is well aware of that, so it's not my fault if she's in a snit about it."
Her fellow Greycloak falls into silent contemplation, much to his sister's delight, but the repast is short lived as Alistair soon stumbles in, yawning and scratching his stomach through his plain tunic.
A quick scan of the rooms inhabitants tells him that he's missed something vital and he abruptly tries to smooth his unruly spikes as he draws closer, "Erm, did something happen? You two look like you sucked lemons for breakfast."
"Nothing too world changing. Well, except that our sister here went and put her assassin through the Joining while we were sleeping, then had a panic attack when he didn't wake up as quickly as she thought he should," the former nobleman chortles, earning himself a baleful glare after the mage sinks into the dusty couch cushions, "But even more interesting is the fact that I'm fairly sure that I spied a certain ginger haired bard sneaking out of your room last night brother."
Lynx is unable to contain a laugh when the younger man begins spluttering and reaches over to give him a congratulatory pat on the arm, "Our little Templar is finally growing up Gabe, whatever shall we do now?"
"Be happy that the raggazo will not die a virgin now, thanks to our songbird," a weak voice answers as the blonde elf slowly makes his way across the room and drops to the sofa beside her, "And possibly put her on the payroll to keep him entertained while the rest of our merry band finally has a chance to enjoy themselves without fear of destroying his innocence."
Forgetting herself for a moment in her exultation at seeing him alive and well, Lynx wraps her arm around him and leans her head closer to his, "If you scare me like that ever again, you blonde bastard, I'm going to shrink your manbits down to the size of peas for a fucking year."
"You wouldn't dare dea, you enjoy my attentions far too much to deny yourself that long," he flashes a mischievous grin, but his amber eyes glimmer with an understanding and relief that matches her own, "But in the spirit of self preservation, I shall endeavor to avoid doing anything so thoughtless in the future."
The pair falls silent, amber and lavender orbs locked, for so long that the others stammer quiet excuses and retreat. Lynx only becomes aware of their solitude when the back of the Antivan's hand caresses her cheek.
"Did you dream?" she eventually probes and the Crow's sharp intake of breath is answer enough, "They'll never go away, not completely, you just do your best to block them out. Sadly, they aren't truly dreams either, like I told you before. It's like we tap into the darkspawn consciousness when we sleep. Alistair once said that he was told it was worse for those who join the order during a Blight."
He slips his arms around her and draws the hedgemage to his chest, resting his chin on her head before sighing, "At least now I can understand why you flail and shout so often during the night. All I can say is that now you will not be forced to face them alone."
"Shouldn't you be resting now?" Lynx mumbles into his neck, then redirects when he huffs, "Yes, you get all of this phenomenal power to kill darkspawn, but you also get an itty bitty lifespan, paralyzing nightmares, obligations to save the world, and a number of other fun things packaged with it."
His head tilts and she can feel him slowly running his cheek over her hair, "None of that bothers me cara. You said yourself that we could survive another thirty years as a Grey Warden. As a Crow- even had I not failed in my attempt to kill you- I would have been fortunate indeed if I had managed to live another ten years. A true miracle if I made it fifteen. Had I somehow reached twenty years, I would have become a legend. Contrary to what you may believe, you have extended my life insurmountably by making me one of the order, not cut it short."
"Well, you only get thirty years if the archdemon, Loghain, or these treaties don't get us all killed first," she glowers without any real heat, then slips out of his embrace when the echoes of movement hit their sensitive ears.
"It seems the weather has taken a turn for the worst while we wasted three days clearing out demons," Leliana proclaims, shrugging off her frosty cloak and gloves as she saunters in, "Levi's family arrived safely, but informed us that the south end of the tunnel has been buried in a small avalanche. Luckily they had a veritable wagon train brimming with supplies, as they'd planned on wintering here whether we were staying or no."
Lynx takes a moment to process everything, then her head sags in defeat, "It's only the beginning of First Fall. We'll be stuck here for months if things are already getting that bad. Is it too much to hope that the darkspawn and Loghain take winter holidays?"
"This gives us a great opportunity Lynx," Alistair chatters, having arrived during the bard's explanation, "We could fix this place up, start building a stockpile, and make it a home for the Wardens again instead of letting it crumble to the ground like some forgotten relic."
"A home?" she whispers to herself while her brother leers at her with an eager grin. None of those traveling with her have had a place to call home for longer than any dared to admit. She shifts her gaze to her assassin and finds a tiny smile playing at the edges of his mouth.
He wants this as badly as Alistair.
The room has been filled to the brim with her motley crew as she ruminated and is startled to see the vestiges of hope etched into each face when she looks around. She softly snickers when she notices the swamp witch sneaking glances at Gabriel.
Grey Wardens or no, they all want this.
"We will stay the winter."