The early dawn light gilded the highest roofs while the streets remained in a murky twilight. But while the crooked wynds awaited the cleansing effect of another day during which a little more of the city would be reclaimed and rebuilt, the marketplace was already filled with the bustle of traders preparing their stalls.
Keeping close to the various buildings at the edge of the marketplace as he made his way towards the Guerrin estate, Zevran was intent on skirting around the throng of people when an aroma filled his nostrils and caught his attention. Following his nose, his gaze settled on a small wagon which had been pulled up to one side of the small circle of stalls permanently pitched in the centre of the marketplace. There were a handful of crates on the wagon and each had been prised open in order for the merchant to rummage through the goods so that he could select the most saleable items for his stall. On the side of each was a range of symbols that bore no relevance to Zevran save for the tantalising scent of what he could only describe as home which seemed to drift across and immerse him in memories. As he approached the wagon, his eye sought out the familiar seal of Antiva City which had been painted on each of the crates and helped to confirm what his nose had already told him.
A young boy was scurrying between wagon and stall, under instruction from his master who spoke with a recognisable accent. True enough, Elissa had once mentioned that there was an Antivan trader in Denerim but they had never ventured upon him on the occasions the elf had accompanied her. Zevran dodged around the remainder of the milling traders and came up behind the man. A quick glance over the goods revealed little of real interest but the sight, sound and smell of Antiva was enough to remind the elf that he had never quite repressed the tingling sense which told him that he was a stranger in this place.
Catching sight of the boy throwing a curious glance over his shoulder, the merchant spun round and came nose to nose with Zevran. "Ah, the Hero's companion. How may I help you, Ser?"
"I am simply looking. I am surprised to see a shipment from Antiva so soon after the siege."
"As am I. I did not believe that the Archdemon would attack so soon."
"Then I am gratified we could oblige you in our timely defeat of the dragon, my friend," Zevran remarked drily.
"It was quite fortunate, yes."
The elf chuckled. "In that case, let me help you further. Have you any leather?"
"Alas, no. I find that it is not appreciated as it should be within this land," the man shook his head with an air of regret.
"A pity."
Turning from Zevran, the merchant barked an instruction to the boy who raced to one of the middle crates on the wagon. He stood on tiptoe as he leaned into the crate and the clink of glass revealed that he was searching for something. After a few moments, the boy straightened and held up a triangular shaped bottle filled with a ruby red liquid towards the man as means of seeking approval.
"Braska," the man spat. "No, the other."
Returning his attention back to the crate, the boy delved back in and his feet lifted into the air as he teetered on his stomach over the side of the box. A small grunt and a thud announced that he had retrieved whatever the merchant had indicated and he righted himself once more. As he offered up a small misshapen bottle filled with an amber liquid, the weak dawn light filtered through and highlighted the lack of impurities within it.
The merchant nodded and indicated that the boy should bring it down in order for Zevran to examine it further.
"It is not leather but it may still be of interest to you."
"Indeed," Zevran conceded, accepting the bottle from the youngster and turning it over in his hands. "Though it does not bear the validation mark which would permit you to find a legal purchaser."
"Does such a thing concern you greatly?"
"It is not my livelihood at risk, my friend. How much?"
"For a fellow Antivan, two sovereigns."
"One sovereign and thirty silver."
"One and fifty."
"Done," Zevran handed the bottle to the merchant as he searched for the appropriate amount of coin. "And if I should wish to view more of your goods?"
"I can be found here or at my warehouse near the docks. Ask for Ignacio."
Passing the man his coin, Zevran reclaimed the bottle and bowed with murmured thanks. He turned from the merchant and pushed through the small crowd that still surrounded the various stalls, heading once more for the Arl's estate.
His approach was greeted with a customary nod from the guards at the gates and he returned the sign of recognition with a nod of his own. Passing through the deserted courtyard, he continued up the outer staircase towards the main entrance. Entering into the building, he readied himself to acknowledge another guard but found the post abandoned. The sound of a heated discussion floated through from one of the anterooms nearby.
Secreting his bottle in an alcove, Zevran stole towards the doorway of the room. It was halfway closed as though someone, he presumed the guard, had attempted to leave but had been summoned back into the room. Unable to recognise either of the voices but still hidden by the door, his attention turned to Liahn who was standing in the far corner of the room. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her head bowed as though she was attending a service in the Chantry. For all Zevran knew, perhaps she was praying but the deliberate manner in which she avoided courting any attention from either of the men hinted at the presence of a templar.
Behind the door, the argument continued on but the exchange had deteriorated past the point of any useful information and had become rooted in a stalemate. From the terseness of the clipped responses of one man, compared to the mounting aggression in the other's voice, Zevran guessed that there was also an issue of rank between the two, despite their different Orders.
The sensation of his stare boring into her must have triggered Liahn's sixth sense because her head lifted ever so slightly as she sneaked a glance towards the doorway. Spying Zevran, her eyes widened and her skin paled before she jerked her head back down to continue staring resolutely at the floor.
A clink of armour and thud of footfall revealed that the templar had noticed his charge's change in demeanour and crossed the room in order to root out the cause. Before the man could reach the door, Zevran breezed into the room with all the arrogance befitting an Antivan Crow who also happened to be a close companion of the Hero of Ferelden.
"Messeres," he greeted the pair with a winning smile. "Is there something I can help with?"
Seeing the man in front of him, Zevran recognised Knight-Captain Joal and swallowed a curse. Oghren had delighted in retelling the reaction of the Templar-Captain to Alistair's interference during the army's return to Denerim. And even with the defeat of the Archdemon, Zevran had continued to hear snippets of gossip which suggested that the Captain had still not forgotten let alone forgiven being so openly undermined. It had been one of the reasons that the elf had preferred to approach the other templars when requesting the assistance of the mages rather than deal with the Captain directly.
"I wish to speak with the Hero," the templar snarled as he advanced on the elf.
Zevran eyed the Captain who was taking full advantage of the difference between their heights in an attempt to intimidate him. Not giving the man the satisfaction of surrendering his position by even one footstep, Zevran leant to one side in order to address the guard.
"Has the Hero been informed?"
"The Arl left orders that neither the Hero nor the King were to be disturbed," the guard shook his head, folding his arms across his chest as he fixed a glare on the back of the templar's head. "I offered to send word to the Arl but he would not permit me to do so."
"I have no interest in speaking with the Arl!" Joal spat over his shoulder before turning back to Zevran. "Fetch the Hero to me."
Behind the Captain, the guardsman went to protest but holding up a hand towards the man, Zevran signalled that he was to keep his peace for the moment. Acknowledging the authority of the elf in this particular matter, the guard gave a begrudging nod.
Turning his attention back to Joal, the Zevran shook his head slightly in response to the templar's demand. "If I were to do so then I would wish to know what it is you desire from her."
"It is of no business of yours," the Captain sneered, stabbing a finger against the elf's chest.
"I do not pretend otherwise but I am permitted to speak directly with the Hero. Surely that is more useful to you than arguing with the Arl's guard?"
The Captain stepped back and eyed the elf with an ill-concealed disdain which Zevran decided, for the man's own sake, not to take personally.
"Tell the Hero," Joal began slowly, his eyes narrowed, "that I will not be issued orders via a mere mage. Tell the Hero," his voice deepened into a growl and he made to stab another finger against Zevran but seemed to think better of it. Instead, the arm fell to his side and he clenched his fists. "Tell her that she has overstepped her boundaries in assuming that she may do as she pleases with the Circle of Magi!"
Taken aback, Zevran frowned in genuine bewilderment. "My friend, I cannot believe that the Hero would have made such an assumption. What has occurred for you to believe it is so?"
"She," the templar jerked his head towards Liahn, "reported that the Hero ordered that the Bard should be taken back to Kinloch Hold for further healing. I refuse to..."
"Ah," Zevran interrupted, projecting an air of understanding even as his mind raced to make sense of the snippets of information being presented to him. He turned away from Joal and approached Liahn, speaking over his shoulder as he did so. "It is as I thought. The message has been wrongly conveyed, Captain. I assure you that the Hero would not issue such an order. My dear," with his back still to the templar and guard, he fixed a cold stare on the mage, "are you certain that the Hero made this order? Perhaps she merely requested that you broach the subject with the Captain?"
Liahn met his stare without flinching but after a few moments, her gaze flitted to the Captain and she nodded. "Yes, I believe so. I must have misunderstood."
"A simple misunderstanding, Ser." Nearing Liahn's side, Zevran spun round to face the templar again.
Joal bristled and a scowl deepened on his face before he began to advance on the mage. "You thought to humiliate me?"
The elf hastily positioned himself between the two. "Such a thing is not unexpected, no? Being accustomed to the discipline of the Circle, I am certain that the girl did not realise that the Hero intended the remark as a question rather than an order."
The remark did not prevent the templar from glowering at both Zevran and Liahn but he did come to a halt a few strides from them. "Perhaps."
"There is no harm done, Ser. The Hero herself would have realised the oversight herself and reassured you that any offence was unintended," Zevran continued to soothe the man. "However it does seem that there is much for you and the Hero to discuss therefore I have a proposal for you, my friend."
Moving away from Liahn, the elf indicated that the guard could resume his position at the door. The man hesitated as though disappointed not to witness how this altercation was to play out but crossed his arms in front of his chest and strode out.
The Captain ignored the man and continued to eye Zevran with a faint suspicion.
"I shall speak directly with the Hero and inform her that you wish to speak with her urgently. In the meantime, I suggest that you return to the Chantry and continue with your duties. I will deliver the Hero's response to you myself." The elf gestured towards Liahn. "Leave the healer and she can continue with her care of Leliana without interruption."
Seemingly unconvinced and with his rage still simmering just below the surface, Joal glanced between the two. Finally, he focused his glare back on Zevran and snapped, "tell the Hero that I do not intend to agree to this request unless it is made in person."
"I understand," Zevran acknowledged. "Now, may I escort Liahn to the Bard's room? I will make enquires about the Hero once I have done so."
The Captain gave a brusque nod.
With her eyes still cast to the floor, Liahn moved from behind Zevran to his side. The elf took the opportunity to grasp the mage by her elbow and steered her towards the door. Moving through the doorway and out into the hall, Zevran caught the eye of the guardsman who had resumed his post and gave a small nod in the hope the guard would respect the temporary peace which had been brokered. As they both headed across the entrance hallway, Zevran continued to feel the tingling sensation of the Knight-Captain's stare as the templar watched their progress towards the stairs. It was only when Liahn led the way up the stairway and the curve of the wall blocked the intensity of the man's gaze that Zevran permitted himself to relax. The relief of the mage was also evident as she let out a deep breath.
Allowing her the time it took to reach the second floor to gather her wits, Zevran waited until they stepped out into the hallway before he tightened his grip. As she felt his fingertips begin to tighten however, Liahn squirmed and tried to wrench her arm free from his grasp.
"Be still," he hissed, pulling her round to face him so that he stood nose to nose with the woman.
"Let me go!"
"I do not intend to harm you but I suggest that you tell me what your Knight-Captain speak of," Zevran flashed a humourless smile. "And may I also suggest that you speak swiftly."
The sudden sharp pain of an elbow digging into his ribs dragged Alistair from the soothing sanctuary of the Fade and he let out a small groan of protest as his eye lids flew open before scrunching closed in denial. The dig against his flesh was repeated however, swifter and sharper this time and accompanied by a muffled grunt.
With less of a rude awakening, he may have taken some satisfaction from the fact that Elissa, who usually rose with the lark, was content to remain in bed, even as she pestered him to leave it. At least, that's what he imagined the objective of her unprovoked aggression was. Yet following on from that understanding came the horrifying realisation that she expected him to abandon the cocoon of warmth which their entwined bodies had generated beneath the bedcovers in favour of the early morning chill which permeated the room.
As though she could hear the workings of his befuddled mind, Elissa prodded him again though this time, she chose to emphasise her intent with a mumbled, "up."
His eyelids still closed, Alistair convinced himself that if only he could still her arm then she would understand that he had no intention of leaving the bed, especially not as this Maker-forsaken hour, and she would leave him in peace. With that notion firmly in place, he curled himself closer around her and clamped his arm over hers.
He winced as her heel connected sharply with his shin in response to what, he had been led to believe, most other women would have taken as a comforting gesture.
"Up! Eamon!"
The mention of the man was the last straw. Muttering choice curses beneath his breath, Alistair rolled onto his back and finally cracked open an eye as he built up his courage to confront the day. What was it about mornings that made it so difficult to get up? He was certain that if only mornings could somehow be made more agreeable then the world would be a much better place.
Elissa's growing restlessness told him that he was not moving quickly enough for her liking. Silently, he added that more agreeable mornings might also make for a much more even-tempered world and more specifically, the world which was in direct contact with Elissa. She may have been an early riser but her temper was certainly not.
Aware that any additional procrastination would risk further bodily harm, Alistair threw back the blankets, shuddering as the cool air stripped his naked body of any residual heat, and eased himself from the bed. Stifling a sharp intake of breath as his feet rested against the flagstones, he forced himself to stand. Not wishing to court further displeasure from Elissa, he repositioned the blankets so that she would not feel the draught at her back from his absence. Before he could turn fully however, she had already rolled herself into the warm space his body had left and had pulled the blankets up around her chin.
Resisting the urge to drag the covers from the bed and stuff them out the damned window, Alistair contented himself with embellishing his earlier curses, keeping what would surely be the more objectionable observations to a low grumble. His voice trailed off as he cast a look around the room. The sight of the scattered clothes decorating the floor in front of him eased his sulk and a lecherous grin surfaced on his face.
Steeling himself against the cold, he padded towards the door where he had spied his breeches. Maker help him, they couldn't be more than three steps from the door. The woman had wasted little time. Or maybe that had been him. Oh, who cared; the end result had been the same. Catching sight of his small clothes en-route towards his breeches, he pulled both items on before hunting around for his socks. One lay at the side of the bed and after a few more minutes searching, he found the other still wedged in one of his boots. The second boot had been cast aside towards the far side of the room and he retrieved it, hopping about for a moment as he pulled it on. With the lower half of his body fully dressed, he glanced around for his shirt. His jerkin lay in a crumpled heap near the wardrobe but the shirt itself was nowhere to be seen. Alistair frowned, trying to remember through the heat-filled haze which had engulfed the better part of his faculties as to who had removed what. She had. Definitely. What in Andraste's name had she done with it?
He stole a glance towards Elissa who remained curled beneath the sheets. She had turned over while he had been dressing and now faced him, though her eyes remained closed. It was a rare occasion to look at her and see an outer stillness reflected inwards. She had forever been a bustling source of energy and while he now understood that it was as a result of her need to project an identity she felt she needed to uphold, it did not detract from that fact that her mind had always been flying through scenarios and situations which could all lead towards the outcome she had already decided upon. As likely as he was to throttle her if she ever expected him to find an answer to an impossible question again– Andraste herself would not have convinced her about the Fade, had Elissa not wanted to be convinced – the fact that she had succeeded in simply thinking herself into such a state, was reassuringly familiar. He chose to take it as proof that she was beginning to heal, inside as well as out.
All of which made the fact that she currently resembled the embodiment of serenity even more damning.
"Where is it?" he demanded, the inflection of the question giving way to a disapproving growl.
"Where's what?"
Approaching the bed, he noticed a telltale scrap of white linen just beneath her chin. She had his shirt clutched against her chest beneath the covers. How had she managed to sneak it?
With a soft laugh that helped to banish the last of his irritability, Alistair reached out and pushed the covers back a little. "Love."
Sensing that the game was up, she opened her eyes and directed a rueful smile up towards him. "You got me. Can't blame a girl for trying though."
"Trying what exactly?" he prised the shirt from her grasp. "You were the one insisting that I get out of bed. I'd much rather have stayed, you know."
"You need to go and be Kingly."
Pulling the shirt over his head, Alistair snorted. "I'm sure I could do that from bed. How hard could it be?"
"Then do it from your own. This is my bed and I don't want people traipsing in and out while I'm trying to sleep," Elissa pulled the blankets closer around her as she struggled up into a sitting position.
"I can't help but feel you're giving me mixed signals here," he said over his shoulder as he retrieved his jerkin from the floor.
She laughed though it developed into a yawn. "So, what are your plans for today?"
"I promised that I would speak with Eamon. Plus we need to find out what the Commander discussed with him. Hopefully it's good news."
Turning to face her, he noticed her shoulders hunching momentarily at the mention of the Warden-Commander though as she caught his eye, she offered him a wan smile. "Hopefully."
"Well, if it's bad news then it's simple," he allowed himself to succumb to the doe-eyes she was so expertly directing at him and crossed the room in order to perch on the bed beside her. He curled an arm around her bare shoulders and pulled her close. "We tell them that they have to go and have another think until they come up with a more reasonable option."
A small giggle escaped from her. "Of course, how stupid of me. Why didn't we do that already?"
"You've been a bit off lately. Anyway, we all know I'm the one with the bright ideas around here."
"Yes, love."
The small shudder that ran through her as she stifled her laughter made him grin. Another moment of self-depreciation was worth it if it meant that it lightened her mood.
But the light-heartedness subsided as Elissa fixed a look on him, her hand moving so that it rested against his leg. "What about Leliana?"
"We can speak to her later, after I've spoken with Eamon."
"I can do it."
"No, it's not for you to worry about on your own."
Her hand tightened as she shook his leg slightly. "You have to let me help, Alistair."
"Oh, like you let me help you?"
"I'm not trying to undermine you."
There was an implicit meaning in the statement which caused him to hesitate. Her pride was not something that he was unaware of but he had to question why, after all that had happened, she was struggling to relinquish her undisputed position. It was as though discovering that he was capable was as much a threat to her state of mind as his dependency on her had been.
"And I would never have tried to undermine you."
A small flush swept across her face as she reflected on the fact that she had revealed more than she had likely intended. "I know, love. I didn't mean..."
Alistair waited for her to finish but her mouth moved wordlessly while she floundered for an explanation. So that was what it looked like when someone avoided answering uncomfortable questions. He hoped he had given a better performance when she had first confronted him about his birthright.
"It's not that, anyway," Alistair offered her a reprieve, at last.
Elissa accepted it gratefully, closing her mouth and cocking an eyebrow in silent question.
"I'll take as much help as anyone is willing to offer me," he smiled with a resigned air. "But you don't know how to stop helping. Can I trust you not to take too much on?"
"This is different. It's Leliana. I can handle her."
"Yes but she can handle you too and that's what worries me," he sighed as his arm fell from her shoulder. "Besides, you told me that Argarth wanted to speak to you again today."
"That was before he went to see Eamon though. I doubt he will speak to me if he and the Arl have already agreed something. And if you're speaking with Eamon then I'll just be sitting here doing nothing and I'll start getting in my own head again."
"Love, it's too much to expect from you right now."
She removed her hand from his leg as she crossed her arms with an impatient sigh. "Then just what am I permitted to do, Your Majesty?"
It was fortunate for her that his temper was not as easy to rile as her own despite her best childish efforts.
"Well," he began slowly, as though deep in thought, "I suppose I could ask Isolde to come and spend some time with you."
"Isolde?" she echoed, her nose wrinkling.
"She could talk to you about all those wifely duties I'll expect you to fulfil. My household isn't going to run itself after all."
The atmosphere between them noticeably cooled.
"No?" he enquired, innocently.
She forewent a verbal response in favour of fixing an icy glare on him. Apparently her sense of humour, much like her even-temper, was also still to awaken.
Alistair snorted. "I'm teasing, love."
"You better be."
There was a mutinous edge to her voice which warned him how close he was to the line but having already ventured towards it, he was unable to resist edging a little nearer.
A mischievous smile curved the corners of his mouth. "Or what?"
"I'm not sure but it will be painful."
"Sounds intriguing."
"Only if they ever find your body," she sniffed. "And I know an Antivan Crow. So how likely do you think that'll be?"
Alistair manipulated his features into a scowl. "I'm sure it's considered high treason to threaten the King."
Twisting round, Elissa snatched at the pillow behind her and swung it towards him. Laughing, he deflected the blow with a raised forearm.
Raising the pillow behind her again in mock-threat, she attempted to fix another glare on him but had to bite her lip to prevent a giggle from spilling out. "So, what about Leliana?"
His laughter gave way to a heavy sigh as he shook his head. "I don't know, love. It won't be easy to convince her and there'll likely be an argument."
"You know she'll be more likely to listen to me."
Alistair pursed his mouth—there was some truth to what she said, even if she was struggling for more persuasive arguments. Studying her with a frown, he considered what other alternatives there could be but with the knowledge of Wynne and her spirit possession limited to their small group of companions, Elissa was the most appropriate candidate. But that did not necessarily mean that she had to confront Leliana by herself.
"Fine but I want Zevran to be there with you. And Oghren, if he wants. Between them, they should be able to keep the peace between the pair of you."
"Alright." Small mercies meant that she seemed to acknowledge that she would be unable to convince him that mediator would be uncalled for. "Oghren said that he needed to see me today anyway."
Even though he knew that he had secured a small victory, a stab of regret that he had backed down at all soured the moment. He trusted Zevran more than he had previously realised but the thought that he would come back from speaking with Eamon, an unpleasant experience in itself he had no doubt, only to find that his friends were even further divided did nothing for his morale.
"Think of it this way," she flashed him a half-smile, "you'll be sure not to spend longer than you have to with Eamon."
Alistair gave a derisive snort but the mention of Eamon reminded him that he should be on his way if he wished to avoid another altercation with the Arl. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss against her cheek as means of farewell then stood, stretching the last of the slumber from his limbs.
A brief glance over his shoulder as he slipped from the room saw Elissa burying back beneath the covers. The sight of Zevran and Liahn at the far end of the corridor interrupted his thoughts of how he might later exact revenge on Elissa.
It looked as though Zevran held the mage by her elbow. On hearing his approach, the pair turned from their discussion and Liahn stepped closer to the elf. Alistair thought that a scowl passed across the Zevran's face but a warm smile flourished before he could be certain. Liahn, on the other hand, maintained her stone-faced expression even as she dipped in a small curtsy towards him.
"Ah, Alistair," Zevran greeted. "I did not expect you to be awake at this time."
"It wasn't my choice," he grumbled, glancing between the two with open curiosity. "What's going on here?"
"I thought that Liahn might require someone to fetch various items," the elf deftly manoeuvred both himself and the mage around Alistair. "Do you wish to speak with me?"
"Yes, actually..."
Walking backwards so that he continued to address Alistair, Zevran nodded. "Of course. I imagine that you intend to wash and shave first, yes? I will seek you out in an hour, I swear."
"It'll just take a minute..."
"It would be a careless for the Arl to catch you out a third time, Alistair," the elf interrupted as Liahn pushed open the door to Leliana's room. "Once you are changed, then we may speak without worry of how it may be construed."
"How what may be construed?" Alistair demanded but both elf and mage had already entered Leliana's room and the soft thud of the door being shut was his only response.
Irritated to be brushed aside in such a manner, he made to follow the pair but the niggling worry which both Elissa and Zevran had reignited with regards to how Eamon might react made him think twice. Shooting a brief glare at the doorway, Alistair resumed his way to his own bedroom. Whatever was going on, he would make sure to find out in an hour.
Thanks to EasternViolet for her beta magic!