Thanks to everyone for their lovely reviews, alerts, favs and especially for continuing to read. We've almost reached 200! So very excited :D I'm sorry about the untimely update. Thank you again :D P.S. I had a blast writing Fenris and Alistair together. I hope you enjoy it too. :D

Lyrium Ghost Chapter 37: Princess

Fenris lay next to Marian with his arm slung over her waist in a gently protective manner. The warm morning sun, subdued by the curtains, basked the room in a soft light. It was the perfect ambience for sleep. Fenris opened one lazy eye aware that he would need to rise soon and see to Marian. Five more minutes, he thought. Sleep was about to take him again when he felt a small tremble; Marian was weeping.

"Marian?" Fenris whispered. He awoke immediately and scrambled from under the covers to look at her, but when he tried to see her face, Marian buried her head into the pillow determined to block his view. Even after six years of his company she was embarrassed to cry in his presence. "Are you in pain? Should I fetch Sol?"

It was then, as he gazed down at her, that the mirror across the room caught his eye and in it he saw Marian studying her reflection. She traced the long scar down her face, and paused to finger the deep crevice in the middle. This she was doing with her remaining two fingers.

Her eyes drifted to his reflection. "Why did they not heal me properly?" she asked. It was said in a way that suggested the healers had been inept, and yet, it was well known that Sol was one of the finest in Kirkwall.

"Solivitus saved your life, Marian," Fenris said. He stroked the exposed skin on her forearm in an attempt to soothe and offer support. To his disappointment, Marian jerked her arm away. "He worked tirelessly to mend your bones and close your wounds."

Marian scowled. The hateful expression startled Fenris. It was reminiscent of her reaction the day Quentin had killed her mother. "And what of Anders?" Her voice rose. "Was he too busy writing his manifesto to aid Sol?"

"He was late to come to your aid," Fenris said and he sighed. Even he could not fault Anders on this account. "I believe it would best if you reserve your judgment until you hear an account of the events."

This reaction was not unexpected. Marian had been a woman blessed with beauty and poise. She was not shallow or particularly self obsessed with her appearance, but she was still a woman and one who enjoyed her attractive qualities when intimate. The marring of her body did not lessen his love, nor had it ever been the sole reason for his attraction. But, the imperfections, he knew, would be a blow to her confidence and that was the loss he mourned.

"I want to see Sol," she hissed. "I want to thank him for saving my life so that I may now spend each and everyday admiring his handiwork."

Fenris moved away from Marian to the edge of the bed. There he sat with his head bowed, exhausted, wavering between resolution and depression. He thought back to the one month of bliss with Marian, before her life had been shredded by Burgamond, and he wondered if they would ever experience it again. That was the reason he had carried on, the reason he had been able to forgive her and remain at her side. But it seemed to him, as he looked down at his hands and the scars from his former life, that there would always be someone or something to prevent their happiness.

"Would you rather be dead?" Fenris asked to Marian's surprise. "Is it not enough that we are together again?"

He shut his eyes and awaited the inevitable outburst. If she was going to heal, her anger needed to be freed. Regardless, it pained Fenris that he, her protector, would now become her whipping boy.

"That is an oversimplification, Fenris," Marian said and the words were venomous and harsh to hear. "Would you be content with a body this scarred and torn? Everything that I once was has been stripped away." Her eyes met his in the reflection and in them he could see the unadulterated hate. "There is little of my former self that I can see in this mirror."

Fenris turned on her then; his face a picture of anger and hurt. He walked steadily from the bed to face her in person. His arms moved away from his body so that his markings could clearly be displayed. "Yes, of course, what would I know of a scarred body or loss of identity?" He looked down at her pitiful form and into her eyes. "Life is unfair Marian and it as cruel as it is kind. Do not believe that you are the only one to suffer for the gain of others. But where there are those who face this cruelty alone, you do so with friends at your side. I love you," he said with confidence. "But I will not pity you."

She moved away from him. "Leave," she whispered.

Fenris walked from the room aggravated by her remarks and disheartened that he had been unable to offer the support that she needed. Marian was a shadow of her former self, her emotions were raw and uninhibited and she could give nothing in return. Even equipped with this knowledge she had still managed to make him feel inadequate. Sol and Anders had warned him that it would take time for Marian to adjust to her circumstances. It was their kind way of saying she was going to be inconsolable.

He would speak with Sol and then take a walk in the woods. It would be beneficial, although getting drunk sounded better. Fenris remembered that the mage had mentioned he would be tending to the overgrown herb beds. Their medicinal supplies were almost exhausted and none of them were ready to venture into the nearby town of Jouel.

Fenris admired his cottage as he walked through the garden. It had proven to be more substantial than he had expected. The house was built from grey stone, quarried from the nearby hills and the foundation, according to Donnic, was solid. He had pictured a rundown shack infested with Darkspawn and tainted cows. Thankfully, and to his astonishment it was a quaint country cottage nestled in a valley, cloaked by ancient trees and crowned with rustic charm. Most of his companions found it cozy and inviting, but after a life spent in estates graced with vaulted ceilings, marble floors and exposed stonewalls, he felt hemmed in. The exception was the master bedroom. It was spacious, richly furnished compared to the other rooms, graced with two large windows and a door that opened out onto a small stone patio. It was, in his mind, perfect.

There was, however, the matter of the roof. They had discovered two rooms with large holes in the ceiling. Fenris had allotted these rooms to Alistair, the strange Grey Warden and Isabela who had complained since sailing from Kirkwall. He was certain Isabela would wrangle her way into Sol's bed, if she hadn't already. The very thought made him shiver.

Fenris stepped outside, relieved to be freed of the confines of the house. His eyes scanned the landscape, taking in its richness. Beyond the cottage, the trees opened up and revealed row after row of grapevines. Unfortunately, the vineyard had been unkempt and the weeds had swamped the arable land. He would see to it that in the months to come it was cultivated even if it meant hiring help. This was his property, proof that he had moved beyond the mentality of a slave. To own something and to do so honestly was his greatest success.

At the end of the fenced-in garden and true to his word, Sol was on his knees pulling weeds and burning those that he had collected. It was the best use of magic Fenris had yet to see.

"Sol," Fenris said. "Marian wishes to speak with you."

"It's my turn is it?" Sol asked. "I wondered when she would get around to shouting at me. Well…" He rose from the ground and dusted off his trousers. "I suppose it was inevitable."

It was odd for Fenris to see Sol wearing trousers and a shirt. It was a marked improvement over his gaudy robes and he no longer begged to be arrested for crimes against fashion.

"How did you know she was angry?" Fenris asked. "You have yet to visit her today."

"The bedroom window is open," Sol answered. He pointed to it and shrugged. "It was impossible not to overhear most of the conversation."

Fenris crossed his arms and his posture became rigid and imposing. "Why did you listen?" he asked and the anger rose in his voice. "Is it not enough to know what we both suffer? Must you eavesdrop as well?"

Sol gestured to the herbs. "I am running dangerously low on supplies," he stated. "I do not have the luxury to wait about until either you or Marian has decided to end your argument. I have a responsibility to everyone here and I must see to it. Besides I am already very intimate with your problems."

The anger gave way to sadness and Sol regretted his quick answer. He laid his tools upon the ground and when he rose, he smiled at Fenris. It was fond and full of warmth, but it had come too late.

"I… will speak with you this evening," Fenris said and he walked away.

"Damn it," Sol whispered under his breath. He stared after Fenris until he disappeared into the trees. I should have been more tactful. Fenris has been pushed to his limit, but… I suppose that is true of all of us. The mage leaned over and picked a handful of lavender. Perhaps, Marian will welcome the scent. Sol sniffed the herb and he considered her likely reaction. No… He let it fall from his hand. She will appreciate nothing I have to give until she forgives me.

Fenris watched as Sol disappeared into the cottage. He wanted to speak with him again and reassure him that he was not truly angry. How could he be? The mage never ceased to offer his support and help. Fenris supposed that was part of the problem. Support from a friend was still a concept he struggled to understand. Marian had been the first to see him through his troubled days, but she was his lover and he would do the same without hesitation. Sol, however, was selfless unless Isabela was involved. As far as Fenris was aware, the mage had never troubled another with his problems.

As Fenris neared the edge of the forest, a glint of metal caught his eye. It emanated from across the field near one of the workman's cabins. He unsheathed his sword and used the cover of the trees to near the position without being detected. When he was able, he paused to study his potential threat.

"That's just one rabbit too many," Alistair said to his Mabari. The dog cocked his head to the side and then whined. "Look… you may not know how this works but you need two rabbits to make more rabbits, so you have to leave some or there will be no rabbits."

Fenris and the dog cocked their heads in unison and stared at Alistair with the same bewildered look. Since he was not one to spy on people and considered it rude, Fenris emerged from the trees. His sword was still in his hands and his demeanor, as always, was intimidating.

The sudden noise started Alistair. "Whoa," he exclaimed. His eyes drifted to Fenris's hefty weapon. He became somewhat apprehensive at the sight. "Where did you come from?"

"From the cottage," Fenris said as if the answer was obvious. He sheathed his sword and raised his favorite disapproving eyebrow. "More importantly: what are you doing here?"

Alistair held up his breastplate. "See… I'm cleaning my armor," he said and carried on. "You can watch if you want. I'm not shy."

This man leads people into battle? Fenris pondered the outcome of that scenario and since Alistair sat before him alive and well he decided the opposite was true. No, he follows.

To Alistair's immense surprise, Fenris grabbed a weather-worn chair and positioned it a comfortable distance away. They eyed each other once, but did not speak, instead they watched the Mabari maul a rabbit and tear it to shreds.

"Something is bothering that dog," Alistair said. "Sure, killing fluffy harmless creatures is fun the first two times, but… it all seems so excessive today."

The Mabari paused to study Alistair. The dog barked in what seemed to be agreement and then it returned to chewing its latest victim.

"Lucifer did the same when he left the confines of Kirkwall, except… with more fervor," Fenris said. "We could not stay hidden for the trail of dead animals left in his wake. I remember fondly how much it annoyed the rogues in our party, specifically the short, verbose one."

Alistair looked up from his polishing. "Oh," he said surprised. "I didn't know you had a Mabari."

"I don't," Fenris stated. "It was Marian's dog. He accompanied her when she fled the Blight with her family."

"Where is Lucifer now?"

"He is no longer here. Lord Burgamond mutilated him." Fenris said. The memory of that night and Orana's pitiful body came to mind. In the weeks after, he mourned her loss and wept. No one deserved that death. "There has not been an opportunity to tell Marian. It's not something I relish since..." Fenris looked away and he remained silent for a time. Alistair patiently waited for him to finish. He had enough experience with grief to know when to allow a person their space. "Forget I said anything."

"The last of her family?" Alistiar added. There was a need within him to mention the uncomfortable subject. It was an experience he could relate to and a commonality between them, whether Fenris realized it or not. "Varric told me how they died. It… well I saw plenty of that on my travels." Alistair cleared his throat to signal the end of the discussion. "So… do you like cheese?"

"What?" Fenris asked, his words incredulous and ripe with shock. "Do I like cheese? We were discussing Marian's dead family and you decide it is the appropriate time to ask about my particular food preferences? What is wrong with you?"

Alistair shrugged. He smirked at his polished breastplate. "I find cheese helps."

Fenris wanted to be angry, rage about Alistair's insensitivity, but if he were to be honest, light heartedness was welcomed after enduring Marian's tirade. "You are an odd man," Fenris said. "Why are you sitting out here in the middle of a field?"

"I thought I'd find a place less drafty if it is all the same to you," Alistair said. His room had a gaping hole in the roof. "My face was wet when I awoke this morning and it hadn't been raining. That's too much nature for my liking."

The dog whined as if to be agreeing with Alistair. Fenris shook his head at it. "I thought Mabaris were an intelligent breed of animal. Why did he choose you?"

"Oh that's funny," Alistair said and he sarcastically laughed. "This Mabari didn't choose me, imprint, whatever it is they do. It was Solona's Mabari. The Mabari whined, a sign that it still mourned the lost of its master. We... just travel together."

In the past Fenris would have ignored a man like Alistair. He would have dismissed him as ridiculous and unworthy, but he could not. No, this man had helped to save a whole country and lost the woman he loved because of it.

"Marian told me of Solona, what she knew that is, and for what it is worth, I am sorry." Fenris said. "She was…"

"A hero," Alistair finished the sentence. There was mostly sorrow, but Fenris also detected a slight bitterness to his words. Was he jealous that she would forever be remembered as the woman who slew the archdemon, and he receive nothing more than a mention? But when Alistair looked away, Fenris recognized it for what it was: pain. Six years since that day and the man was still unable to speak of it without fear of shedding tears. Fenris believed he understood that pain.

"What is his name?" Fenris asked. He gestured towards the Mabari in case Alistair had named his armor.

Alistair laid his breastplate on the ground and smiled at the dog. "It's a she and her name is Princess." Princess barked at the mention of her name.

"She named a war dog Princess?" Fenris scoffed at the name. "That animal can rip a man's face off in less than two minutes."

"Solona had a great sense of humor," Alistair said. His boyish grin surprised Fenris. The mention of his dead lover's name managed to make him blush as if she were sitting next to him.

Fenris smirked. He realized Alistair wanted to be aggravated. It was most likely to distract him from his painful memories. "I assume that would explain you."

"Why are you so cruel?" Alistair whined.

"Stupid people make me angry," Fenris replied.

Alistair seemed to consider the elf for a moment. "So… what makes you happy?"

"Dead stupid people," Fenris answered without mirth.

"I knew someone rather something like you once," Alistair said. "Shale. She enjoyed killing things and was very mean… and nasty… and evil."

"Something like me?" Fenris asked. "How am I supposed to take that?"

"She was a somebody until she was placed on an anvil and made into a walking talking pile of rock," Alistair said. "I don't know if a golem likes to be called a somebody or a something. Do you?"

"I will have to... consider it," Fenris said. "Do you often think of these sorts of things or have I been unfortunate enough to be privy to one of your fits of contemplation?"

"Nah, I do this all the time," Alistair said. "You will get used to it."

"I am skeptical," Fenris said. "Perhaps I will learn to tolerate it."

"I knew you were a big softy," Alistair said. "And here Varric said you were an emotionless brooding pit of despair. You proved him wrong."

"I hate you," Fenris said.

"It won't last," Alistair said. "I have a way of growing on people."

"Like mold?" Fenris asked.

"Yeah, that's a good one." Alistair said. "See... I knew you weren't really all snarly and scowly. There's a rainbow under every dark cloud you know."

"You consider a comparison of your personality to mold to be a… compliment?"

"One of my favorite cheeses is made from mold so I think it's a great compliment," Alistair said and his face grew contemplative while he reminisced about his favorite dairy food. "If you had said freakish errant back hair my feelings would have been hurt. So, anyway… I'm wondering something."

"Mhmmm," Fenris said and awaited the inevitable daft comment. "What?"

"Not to insult your hospitality, I mean, I do love a bit of fresh air, just not over my head, but do you mind if I sleep here tonight?" Alistair eyed the workman's cottage. "The roof is intact although… I might have to declare war on the spiders, unless I can negotiate a peace treaty with them and convince them to leave peacefully."

"I do mind if you sleep here tonight," Fenris said.

"Maker's breath," Alistair said and his face flushed red. "Fine. I have a tent. It's missing one pole but I guess I can sleep on the side that is mostly erect."

Fenris smirked. "There is a guestroom near the kitchen that is unoccupied and comfortable. It is yours for the entirety of your stay."

Alistair and Princess cocked their heads to the side in the same fashion. Fenris's sudden generosity was beyond their comprehension. Under normal circumstances, Alistair would question the elf's cordiality, but after a month without a real home, he was thankful. As he thanked Fenris, he wondered what the elf would say if he knew how much he had sacrificed in order to aid Marian. But that conversation, along with many others would have to wait.