Miriana stood to the right of the bowsprit watching the fishermen go about their business on the approaching docks. Although the morning sun was veiled in a wall of thick, grey clouds, the young mage still needed to squint against the harsh light. Because she was afraid to find Remus waiting for her in her dreams, she hadn't slept since the day she and the others boarded the ship after leaving the Circle tower. Completely exhausted, she would have given almost anything just to get an hour or two of unhindered rest.
After her argument with Solona, Miri shut herself in her cabin and wiled away her time reading the books Garrett loaned to her. It had been less than a week since the last time the captain joined her in her cabin for supper filled with conversation and amusing anecdotes of the pirate's adventures on the high seas, yet it seemed a lifetime ago. Garrett's choice was obvious. Solona won out over her plain and boring sister, leaving Miriana to question why she left Ostwick in the first place. She never dreamed she would be faced with the exact same problem she had with Julia when she departed that Circle.
Garrett did at least have the courtesy to check on Miri the previous afternoon, but she knew it was only as a matter of propriety. Why else would he bother? She heaved a forlorn sigh and leaned further into the rail.
"Are you alright, love?" she heard his voice from directly behind her. "You're looking a little pale."
She shrugged. "I'm fine, just a little tired."
"Didn't sleep well?" he asked.
"Not really," she replied. "To be honest, I didn't sleep at all."
"Bed that uncomfortable, then? You should have told me. I would've been happy to trade for the night."
Miriana's brow furrowed. Would he really have been willing to give up his bed, the bed he shared with Solona, just for her comfort? She found his statement difficult to believe, but when she turned to peer up at him, her gaze was met with sincerity and concern. If he was lying, she certainly couldn't see it.
"I appreciate that," she said in a soft voice. "But it wasn't the bed. I've been plagued by…nightmares."
"I'm right sorry to hear that, love. Had quite a few of them myself since Highever, but never any so bad that I couldn't sleep at all."
"These aren't just regular nightmares," Miri whispered. "They're…"
Unsure if Remus might somehow be listening to their conversation, Miriana forced herself to stop speaking. Although she promised the Tevinter she would help him, and her vow seemed to placate him at the time, she was almost certain he would be angry if he discovered she was speaking to Garrett about his invasion of her dreams. She was keenly aware that Remus's obsession of her went much deeper than a desire for her aid, and it was quite obvious he was jealous of Garrett.
It figures. The only man's head I've ever managed to turn, and he's possessed and completely insane.
The pirate's brows knitted together with a frown then he gestured to the door of his cabin with a tilt of his head. "Maybe you'd be more comfortable talking in my cabin, then, love?" His lips curved into a warm, uneven smile accompanied by a mischievous wink. "I even have some of that brandy left, if it tickles your fancy."
Miriana's breath hitched in her throat, and her jaw went slack. For a moment, she almost allowed herself to believe his proposition alluded to more than friendly conversation. Then, she remembered that he was bedding her sister.
He's just being nice. Just like before. It doesn't mean anything. It's Solona he wants. Not you.
Miri considered refusing Garrett's offer. Not only was he already involved with her twin, but getting him entangled in her troubles with Remus could likely get the captain hurt or, worse yet, killed. Unfortunately, when he crooked his elbow for her to take, she simply didn't possess the willpower to deny him.
"Thank you," she said quietly as she slipped her arm around the pirate's.
He gave her bicep a gentle pat then led her toward the door to his quarters. "No trouble at all, love. You know me. I never turn down the chance for a drink and conversation with a lass as lovely as yourself."
Garrett was furious when he left his cabin. After Miriana told him what Remus had been doing to her, he was tempted to find the bastard and run him through, but she made him swear on his life he wouldn't harm the slimy git. Though it went against his better judgement, the captain intended to keep his vow to Miri, but that didn't mean he couldn't threaten the ruddy little shit.
When he reached the tiny cabin he had assigned to the Tevinter, Garrett forced himself to stop and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. He wanted to kick the bloody thing in, but knew doing so would only fuel his anger further. After a moment, the lock clicked and the door opened wide enough for Remus to peek out.
The space between the Tevinter's brows diminished as he peered up at the taller man. "Is there something I can help you with, Captain?"
"I just need a few minutes of your time before we dock, mate," the pirate replied, pushing his way through the door. "Won't take long."
As Garrett brushed past the other man, a wave of nausea threatened to overtake him, and his head began to throb. He blinked his eyes against the pain and the dizziness that seemed to worsen with every step. Miriana warned Garrett that Remus was more dangerous than either of them first believed, but, until that moment, the pirate didn't realize the full weight of that implication. He would definitely need to rethink his approach on the confrontation.
The mage shut the door and turned to face Garrett. "Of course, Captain. What can I do for you?"
"I got a troubling complaint from one of my passengers," the pirate began in a calm and even voice. "The lady, Miriana. She says she's been having some trouble sleeping as of late. You wouldn't know anything about that would you, mate?"
Remus's shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. "I never meant to upset Lady Miriana. I just wanted to talk to her, but she seemed…reluctant. So I visited her dreams."
The captain arched a condescending brow. "Take a little piece of advice, mate. You should probably find a new approach if you want to woo the lass. While stepping through a woman's dreams may gain you a captive audience, it's not going to be something that'll hold out for you in the long run. I don't know a one of them that wants to be kidnapped like that."
"But," the other man interrupted.
Garrett raised his hand to stop the explanation before it began. "Hold on, mate. Let me say my peace. What's done is done, but as captain of this vessel, it's my job to look out for my passengers. If I let you continue your dream walking now that I know about it, well, I'm just not doing my job, then. Am I? So, I'd be most appreciative if you made sure that didn't happen again, mate. Savvy?"
"I understand, Captain," Remus nodded with a contrite frown. "And I apologize. It shan't happen again."
The pirate presented the Tevinter with the slightest of bows. "Appreciate it, mate. Now, if you'll pardon me, I have to prepare the ship to dock."
Garrett spun on his heel to leave, grateful to the spirits to finally remove himself from the other man's presence, when Remus stopped him. "Captain, I overheard some of the mages on board talking about a possessed boy. I would like to help if I can."
The captain closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Taking Remus along to perform a ritual to exercise a demon seemed like a colossally bad idea after everything Miriana told him about the man. Maybe he was looking to add another one to his collection. At the same time, it would afford Garrett the chance to finally get the bastard off his ship, but how much more of a danger would he pose if he were allowed to attend or even join the ritual? Then again, what would Remus do if Garrett refused the request?
He considered the fact that there were going to be four templars in attendance, five if he counted Alistair, and each of them spent years training to deal with such threats. Not to mention the fact that there were going to be at least nine mages participating already, possibly more considering Solona mentioned she left a few people behind in Redcliffe when she and Alistair departed for Kinloch. That many people equipped to either negate magic or to wield it should be able to handle one mage, no matter how many demons possessed him.
"Alright," Garrett agreed as he turned the handle of the door. "Get your gear together and meet the others on deck. I expect bringing you this far fulfills my end of our bargain, then?"
Remus inclined his head in a small nod. "Of course, Captain."
Alistair was a bit surprised when Solona chose Jowan to be the one to go into the Fade to retrieve Connor. He was a blood mage, after all, and more susceptible to fall prey to the will of demons. As the mages were gathered in a large circle around Jowan with Connor's body lying at his feet and concentrating on the task at hand, Alistair stood next to Garrett several feet behind Solona.
While he waited, he scanned the faces of the mages who were turned toward him. Each one was bathed in a silver-blue light as they murmured chants that were barely more than unified whispers with lids closed in deep meditation. After several moments, the prince's eyes began to grow heavy against the quiet drone, forcing him to focus his attention elsewhere, lest he fall asleep standing.
His gaze moved to Cullen who was standing farther back from the other three templars. Unlike his fellows, whose stares remained fixed on the maleficar in the center of the circle, Cullen's gaze was settled solely on the odd little man dressed in a thick black cloak who stood to the left of Miriana. Alistair couldn't say that he blamed his former friend for the guarded apprehension in his eyes. From the moment he met Remus before they departed the ship, the prince could sense there was something untoward about the man. He seemed friendly enough with his shy demeanor and soft spoken voice, but there was something else there. Something that felt almost sinister, somehow.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair noticed Garrett's right hand ease over to the hilt of the cutlass on his left hip. He followed the pirate's narrowed stare and realized Garrett was watching Cullen as intently as Cullen was watching Remus. The prince absentmindedly ran his tongue over his lips as he drew a deep breath and tilted his head back to whisper in Garrett's ear.
"Expecting trouble?" he questioned.
Garrett turned his head until his scruffy cheek was lightly pressed against Alistair's and his lips nearly close enough to touch the prince's ear. The pirate exhaled a warm, protracted breath, causing gooseflesh to prickle Alistair's skin and his body to tremble as his manhood rose to full attention. He suddenly became very dizzy, drunk off the heady mixture of fine leather, sandalwood, exotic spices and dark rum. Fighting the temptation to gently nip Garrett's lobe with his teeth, he closed his eyes and wet his lips with his tongue.
"I'm always expecting trouble, mate," the captain replied in a low voice. "But Curly's set my fingers to twitching. That man's about a toe's slip from the end of the plank and I mean to be ready when he falls overboard."
Alistair had to fight the urge to laugh at that sentiment. First, because the mental image of Cullen slipping and falling from the plank of a ship into the water just tickled him, but mainly because Garrett called the templar by a nickname he loathed. Yes, it had been six years, and, yes, they were both no better than children at the time, but dammit, Alistair just couldn't let go of all the trouble Cullen caused him back in the monastery.
When Garrett pulled away and went back to observing the templar, the longing flutters in Alistair's gut nearly made him sick.
Forget it, jackass. Not going to happen.
"The demon is gone," Irving announced just before Jowan hit the floor with a loud thud that reverberated through the castle's great hall.
The next moment, the ringing of a sword being pulled from its scabbard followed the echo made by the mage's fallen body. In a flash, Cullen was rushing Remus and knocking him to the ground with the edge of his blade against the Tevinter's throat, proceeded closely by Garrett with the point of his cutlass at the back of the templar's neck. Remus pulled his arms free and began to push against the hilt of templar's sword.
"It's not gone," Cullen cried as his trembling hands struggled to regain full control of his sword. "Can't you see? It's in him."
"Back off, mate," Garrett warned. "You have no idea the trouble you're getting yourself into."
Alistair hurried to the pirate's side intending to pull the templar off the smaller man, when the air in the room seemed to shift with an unseen force, followed by the sensation of magic darker than any he had ever experienced before. Instead of grabbing Cullen, Alistair tackled Garrett to the floor, closed his eyes, and attempted to call the familiar candle into his darkened vision. It was no use, however, something was blocking his ability.
A thundering crack resonated across the chamber, and Alistair opened his eyes in time to see Cullen fly through the air and crash into the wall on the other side of the room. Remus's entire body went as stiff as a corpse then lifted from the ground into a standing position and began to float several inches off the floor. His entire form became engulfed in a brilliant red light, which seemed to radiate from somewhere inside him, followed by the putrid stench of sulfur permeating the entire atmosphere of the room. He opened his lids to reveal abysmal black eyes with thick tendrils of red smoke curling across their surfaces, then lifted his hands in the air. Tiny sparks of lightning crackled about his fingertips as he pointed them in Cullen's direction, preparing for the final strike.
Garrett pushed against Alistair's chest with his palms and slid out from under the warrior's weight before bouncing onto his feet in a crouch and pulling two small throwing knives from his weapons belt. He then pivoted on the balls of his feet and flung the blades at Remus's throat with a quick flick of his wrists, but both of the knives simply bounced off the crimson barrier surrounding the mage and fell to the floor with a clatter.
Distracted from his original target, the Tevinter turned his full attention to his latest attacker. The pirate then reached for the remaining cutlass at his hip, fully prepared to take on the possessed man, but before he was given the opportunity to regain his full height, Miriana placed herself between Remus and Garrett.
Where Remus was surrounded in a lambency of red and black, Miri's body was illuminated by gleaming white and shimmering silver beams of light. The unbound ringlets that fell loose from her braid fluttered in a light breeze not felt by anyone else in the room. When she finally spoke, it was in her usual soft tone, but her words were echoed by a richer, more ethereal voice.
"Remus. You need to stop. Think on what you are about to do, and what you will surely become if you proceed. Are you ready to risk everything, your soul, for this vengeance?"
The incandescence around the Tevinter faded as his feet slowly descended back to the floor. He blinked once to reveal that his darkened eyes had reverted back to light blue. When he exhaled a long breath, his shoulders and chest shook with heavy sobs right before he fell to his knees at Miriana's feet.
She turned to the other Circle mages and the templars in the room and lifted her hands into the air, the light breeze altering to what Alistair likened to a balmy summer wind. "Forget," she whispered in the same haunting voice with which she spoke to Remus.
The light and air seemed to leave her body to dissipate over the room. Alistair shut his eyes to allow the warmth to envelop him like a comfortable blanket and inhaled a deep breath to fill his senses with the aromas of primrose, marigold, and hyssop. He remembered the demon of sloth from the tower and how it used such tactics to transport him into the Fade, and for a moment, he worried the same thing was about to happen. Fighting against the urge to sleep, Alistair's lids flew open in time to see Miriana crumple to the floor.
"What the fuck was that?" Solona questioned as Alistair scrambled across the floor to check on her sister.
It was obvious that the Tevinter mage that accompanied them from the ship was possessed. Solona had studied demonology enough to know the signs, but she had never heard of any one person wielding so much power since the time of the ancient magisters. It wasn't so much about what the man did, but how the atmosphere around him changed. Where Flemeth's magic felt ancient and a bit dark, Remus's felt like evil incarnate. She recalled the Pride demon from her Harrowing, it was like that, but much worse.
Then, of course, there was Miri. Somehow, Solona's sister had been possessed as well, but the spirit inside her didn't give a sense of malice at all. It felt benevolent, powerful, and, in a strange way, protective. Whatever was inside Miriana, the templars would demand to return her to Kinloch where she would likely be executed, if they didn't decide to do it right away. Even the Grey Wardens couldn't stop what was about to happen to her.
Cullen approached her, rubbing the back of his head. "What in the Maker's name just happened?"
Solona arched a brow. "What do you remember?"
"The last thing I remember is watching Jowan fall," he told her before pointing to the place where Remus tossed him against the wall. "Then I was standing over there with a splitting headache."
Solona recalled the last word Miri said before she collapsed. Forget. Maybe the spirit inside her sister used some sort of memory spell on the templars. But how was she able to recall the events that transpired?
She shrugged. "I don't know, Cullen. I watched you wander away over there when the ritual was over, but I can't possibly begin to tell you what you were thinking when you did it. Only you can answer that question."
The templar's face screwed up in a befuddled expression. "Perhaps it's an after effect of the lyrium withdrawals, and I'm still having trouble with everything that happened at the tower when I was locked in that cage."
"Well," Solona said, placing a hand on his cheek. "I hope that will become easier for you with time. I hate to see you like this."
Her heart skipped a beat when he placed his hand over hers and his lips curved into a gentle, uneven smile. "Thank you, Solona. By the way…about the things I said back in the tower when you found me…"
"Don't worry about it," she told him with a smile of her own. "It's forgotten."
Don't start this, Solona. You know better. The man's half out of his head from what happened to him. As bad as Anders was, you certainly don't need that kind of trouble in your life. Besides, he's a templar. Even if he gets over this, sooner or later, he'll return to the Circle. He'll leave you just as sure as everyone else has.
Solona dropped her hand to her side. "I need to check on my sister," she told him before spinning on her heel and hurrying away.
From what she gathered by the whispering among the other mages as she walked past, no one recalled anything untoward after Jowan fainted. In fact, they all just stood around congratulating themselves on performing such a monumental feat. It seemed that there was nothing to worry about, after all, at least as far as Miriana being forced to return to the Circle was concerned.
Solona knelt down next to her sister and brushed the stray tendrils of hair from her cheek. Her skin was cool to the touch, but not overly cold, and her chest rose and fell easily. It was a good sign. She glanced across the unconscious body of her twin and caught Garrett's eye. The crease in the pirate's brow deepened.
"She'll be fine," the Warden mage reassured him, but her words did nothing to soften his expression.
He leaned in closer to her. "It's not my imagination, right?" he questioned in a low voice. "You saw all those weird lights and that bastard floating in midair, too, didn't you, love? Or have I completely lost my bloody mind?"
The mage nodded. "Yes, I saw it, but no one else seems to remember." She turned to Alistair. "What about you?"
"Floating Tevinter? Flying templar? Strange lights coming out of your sister? Nope, didn't see anything like that. You two must be under some kind of joint delusion. I'm just going to back away slowly, now. Don't try to follow me. I've got a sword and I know how to use it."
"Don't flatter yourself, jackass," Garrett snarked. "I've seen you use that sword. You're just as likely to hurt yourself. But don't worry. I'm sure our Tevinter friend would be happy to heal you. Seems a right benevolent bloke, nothing creepy about him at all."
"Yeah, thanks a lot," Alistair mumbled. "Asshat."
The pirate's head jerked back with a grimace. "What did you just call me, mate? Did you call me an…asshat?"
Alistair shrugged with a sheepish grin. "It's a templar thing. When Knight Commander Glavin used to get pissed at us, he'd tell us to 'You better straighten up your shit, initiate, or I'm going to be wearing your ass as a hat by morning.' So, we took to calling each other asshat."
"Well, if it's all the same to you, mate, I'd prefer you keep your ass and everything else to yourself. I don't know what kind of kinky shit you templars are into, but my ship sails in a different direction."
Solona swore she recognized disappointment flash in her fellow Warden's eyes upon hearing Garrett's words before he gave a small chuckle. "Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about there. Like I said, you've got the legs for it, but I prefer someone a bit softer with a lot less hair on their chest. Now, if you ever decide to shave and put on a dress, I might be willing to reconsider."
Garrett rubbed his hand across his chest. "I'm not shaving this chest for anybody, mate. It's legendary. Entire books have been written about this chest hair."
Solona heaved an annoyed sigh. "If you two are finished confirming your masculinity, can we please get back to work?"
She just couldn't take listening to the two men's banter anymore. After Alistair's admission of his first kiss to her, Solona knew her fellow Warden was just posturing for Garrett's sake. Not only that, but she had seen the way he looked at the pirate. There was no mistaking the lust in Alistair's eyes. Luckily for him, Garrett seemed oblivious to those secret desires.
For the first time since she met the man, Solona was actually happy to see Teagan approach. He crouched next to her with a perturbed frown.
"Is your sister alright, my lady?" he asked. "She is your sister, isn't she?"
Garrett waggled his head. "No mate. Not at all. It's just coincidence that they look exactly alike."
Solona closed her eyes against the nobleman's oncoming tirade as she began to wonder if the pirate took anything seriously at all. Teagan rose to his feet and scowled at the captain. "Do I know you, ser?"
"Well," Garrett began. "It's been a few years. Nice to see the beard finally grew out."
"I would know your name, ser," Teagan demanded, his scowl deepening.
The pirate leapt to his feet and flourished a low bow. "Captain Hawke of Yavana's Call, the finest pirate to ever sail the seven seas."
The nobleman's lids narrowed as he glared at the captain, after a moment, recognition finally flashed in his eyes, but his face didn't soften. "Garrett. The waif the Couslands used to extend their charity to. You were quite the project for the teyrna."
"Watch what you say about my family, Teagan," the pirate threatened, prompting Solona to jump to her feet and put herself between the two men.
She still needed Arl Eamon's aid, and Garrett getting into a brawl with the nobleman would do nothing to further her cause. She peered down at Jowan lying helpless on the floor in the middle of the room while everyone else ignored his presence completely. Lady Isolde had already ordered her guards to take Connor to his room, leaving what she considered the trash behind.
It didn't matter that he had just saved Connor's life. It didn't matter that he did his best to atone for his transgressions. No one would see him for the man she knew him to be. They would see him only as a maleficar. A beast that needed to be disposed of. She had to help him. She had to do something for the one person she had known longer than anyone in her life. Yes, he betrayed her, but he didn't deserve death or tranquility for it.
"Bann Teagan," she began as she took his arm and led him toward the throne. What she planned next was going to upset the bann enough, and she didn't need the pirate making it worse. "There is something important I need to discuss with you."
He presented her with a lecherous smile that forced her to swallow back the bile it prompted to rise in her throat. The man was completely obnoxious, but she needed to play along with his flirting, at least until she softened his disposition a bit. He kissed her hand and she nearly gagged.
"Anything you need, dear lady. My time is yours."
"Lady Isolde mentioned something about the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"
"Yes," he replied. "Isolde believes the Urn could restore Eamon. We've tried everything else. Perhaps it is the only thing that will help, after all."
"And where would I begin looking for this Urn?"
"There is a Chantry scholar named Brother Genitivi. Have you heard of him?"
Unless I've been living under a rock my entire life, you pompous ass.
"Yes, I've heard of him. He's written many books on the history of Thedas."
"I understand that he might know the whereabouts of the Urn. Isolde has sent soldiers out to find him, but so far, they've had no luck. However, I've recently heard he has a sister who resides in the village of Honnleath. It's about three days' ride south of here."
"Well," Solona said with a coy smile. "It's a lead anyway. I'll need a few hours to gather supplies before we head out this afternoon. That way, we can get a few hours travel in before nightfall. The sooner we get there, the closer we'll be to the arl's recovery. Even if we don't find Genitivi, it is my hope this sister can at least point us in the right direction."
The mage cringed when the bann's lips touched the back of her hand again. "Thank you, my lady. You don't know how much this means to me and my family."
She pulled her hand from his grasp, a bit more forcefully than she intended. "Of course, my lord. I shall return to Redcliffe as soon as possible."
Solona turned in time to see Garrett and Alistair help Miriana to her feet and lead her toward the door. She waited until they disappeared and took two steps forward before returning her attention to Teagan. From the corner of her eye she spotted Jowan slowly picking himself up from the floor. Although she was happy to see him conscious, she donned her familiar mask of indifference.
"There is one other matter before I go, my lord."
"Of course, my lady," he grinned. "Anything."
"There is the matter of Jowan."
"I believe his fate should be left for my brother to decide, don't you?" the bann asked.
Solona arched a brow. "Under normal circumstances, I would be inclined to agree with you. However, his is a special case. I require aid for the Blight, and I believe this mage could be a valuable asset to the Grey Wardens."
Teagan shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lady, but if you are asking to take this mage with you, I'm afraid my answer is no."
"Considering what I just went through to save your nephew's life, I would think you would be more agreeable to my request, my lord."
"While I appreciate what you've done, my lady, I still cannot in good conscience allow you to take a maleficar to roam free in Ferelden."
Solona folded her arms over her chest. "Being a Grey Warden is hardly the chance to roam free. It is a lifetime commitment. Not only that, but there is a ritual which determines a recruit's fitness to be a Warden. There is a very good chance he might die during that ritual anyway."
"I'm sorry, my lady," Teagan apologized. "But the answer is still no."
The mage stood straight, lifted her chin higher, and pointed to Jowan who was cowering near the wall. "Then you leave me no choice, my lord. As Commander of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, I hereby conscript this mage and take full responsibility for his actions while he is under my command."
"You can't do that, my lady," the bann argued.
Solona's lids narrowed as the hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips. "I just did, my lord."
After helping Miriana back to her cabin and gaining her reassurance she was feeling better, Garrett and Alistair wandered out onto the deck to allow the mage time to rest. The pirate walked to the portside railing to look out over the lake, and removed a pipe and a small pouch from his inside coat pocket. After filling the bowl, he used flint and steel to light the contents and gave the bit a few puffs to spread the embers within before taking a long draw and releasing it into the breeze.
Alistair wrinkled his nose with a sour expression, awaiting the smoke and the stench of burning tobacco leaf to waft in his direction. He hated that smell. When he was a child, Stablemaster Kenton was fond of using a pipe and was prone to blowing smoke in the boy's face while they worked, and it always made Alistair gag and choke.
When the wind picked up and changed direction, the smoke Garrett exhaled billowed over right into Alistair's eyes. He closed his lids and held his breath, hoping it would help keep him from coughing. Unfortunately, some of it got into his nose anyway, but for once, it didn't aggravate his senses. Upon inhaling a bit deeper, he realized, it wasn't tobacco he smelled, but something sweeter.
"What is that?" he asked.
The pirate shrugged. "Elfroot. Needed something to relax me after what we just saw." He held out his pouch in offering to the younger man. "You're welcome to have some of mine if you want."
"I've never had it before," Alistair admitted. "Truth be told, I've never smoked anything. My old stablemaster used to smoke tobacco, and it was disgusting. So, I never wanted to try it."
Garrett handed his pipe over to the prince. "Here, be my guest. It's a bit hard on the old lungs on the first couple of draws, but it gets easier. It'll help with your nerves. Trust me."
Alistair hesitated. The sisters in the monastery used to lecture about the evils of using elfroot in illicit ways, and only mages and heretics bound for the void would ever do such a thing. According to the sisters, with the exception of wine taken in small amounts with a meal, anything that altered the mind for recreational purposes would only serve to drive away the Maker from one's heart. It wasn't as if Alistair had never gotten drunk before. The Chantry dictated that smoking elfroot was worse, but he never understood how that was possible. How was it really any different?
"Alright," he finally agreed, taking the pipe from the pirate's grasp.
Ignoring Garrett's warning about the effect the first few draws would have on his lungs, Alistair placed his mouth on the bit and sucked in a deep breath. Right away, his throat began to burn and his lungs felt as if they had exploded. He grabbed the rail and began to choke and splutter, swearing to himself he was going to die. Tears flowed down his cheeks as his knees hit the deck and he continued to gag, trying to catch his breath. He felt a hand rubbing across his shoulders and looked up to see the captain standing above him shaking his head.
"I tried to warn you, mate," he said. "Did the same thing the first time. Of course, I was only twelve. Folly of youth, and all that." He pulled a silver flask from his hip and uncorked it before handing it over to the younger man. "Here, take a swig of this. It'll help clear your throat.
Without giving a thought to what might be inside, Alistair tipped the flask up and guzzled half the contents, then immediately began to choke again. The spiced rum only served to make the searing pain in his chest worse. He was seriously beginning to wonder if Garrett was attempting to kill him.
"Maker fuck!" Alistair managed after he was finally able to catch his breath. "And you do this shit to yourself on purpose?"
"It gets easier the more often you do it. Question is, are you feeling more relaxed now?"
The prince scowled until he realized, other than the burning sensation in his throat and chest, he was feeling much better. In fact, he hardly felt anything at all other than an overwhelming need to laugh. There was really nothing funny about the situation, but he began to chuckle, which soon turned into a barrage of uncontrollable giggles.
Garrett sat down on the deck next to him and began laughing along with the prince. "I suppose I forgot to warn you about that part."
"I guess you did," Alistair guffawed.
His sides were beginning to ache, but he couldn't stop. It was the best he had felt in a good long while, maybe ever. Everything else was forgotten in that moment. His duty to Ferelden and the Grey Wardens, his loneliness, his self-loathing. Right then, the only thing that mattered was leaning against that rail and laughing along with the first real male friend he ever had.
Unlike Cullen, whom he was thrown together with at the monastery upon the Knight Commander's insistence, Garrett was spending time with him of his own volition. There were plenty of other things the captain could have been doing just then, but, instead, he chose to remain in Alistair's company. No one had ever done that before, save Solona and Jenna, certainly no one of his own gender. Even Sithig never went out of his way to make conversation with the prince.
When their laughter finally died down, Garrett reached into his inner coat pocket and fished around until he produced a second pipe. "Here, mate" he offered. "I always keep an extra. It's yours if you want it."
Alistair's eyes welled up with tears as he took hold of the pipe. It was the first gift anyone had ever given to him in his life. Birthdays, Satinalias, for twenty years they all passed him by as all other days in his lonely life with no acknowledgement that he even existed most of the time. But now, without any occasion at all, this man, this pirate, offered him a small token that he never asked for. A deed born of simple kindness and comradery.
He ran his tongue across his lips and smiled. "Thanks…asshat."
"You're welcome," Garrett smirked before giving him a wink. "Jackass."