A/N: Sorry about the delay, kind of a rough couple of weeks. Hope you enjoy and take care!

Ffion didn't wait for Harrowmont's reply and left the room with Alistair and Tilly. They gathered up the others, refusing to give details until they were back at Tapsters. Once there, Sten commandeered a table in the corner, chasing away a group of merchant Dwarves that had been headed for it as well. Ffion began spreading her maps and the letters out while Alistair and Zevran went for drinks, and Morrigan leaned one hip against the table and watched the Warden. Wynne had gone upstairs for a restorative potion, not liking the look of pinched pain in Ffion's face, and Leliana snagged the chair closest to her, looking over the maps. Her pale blue eyes went wide as she realized what they covered and she glanced up at the Warden incredulously.

"The Deep Roads?" She questioned, "Are you quite serious?"

"Unfortunately... yes," She answered and braced herself for the onslaught.

"Oh, dear," The Orlesian sighed, cupping her chin in her palm as she examined the maps more closely.

"Are there not enough-"

"Listen, before you all explode, let's at least wait until everyone is here," Ffion interrupted Sten with her hands held up in a beseeching manner, "Nothing's been decided."

Morrigan snorted, folding her arms across her chest. Her gold eyes were annoyed and she exchanged glances with the Qunari.

"Do not play us for fools, Ffion," She said bitingly, "'Tis quite-"

"A fool, my lovely? You? Was that a confession?" Zevran was grinning as he and Alistair returned and Wynne appeared at Ffion's elbow, "Are we telling our deepest secrets? Makes for an excellent drinking game, yes?"

"I wouldn't celebrate too much just yet," Ffion cut in. She downed Wynne's potion with a grimace and immediately reached for the wine glass Leliana extended. Her grey eyes were on Morrigan and there was more than a hint of warning there, "You guys might want to sit down. We have some things to discuss."

With Alistair's help, Ffion relayed Harrowmont's request; putting up with the constant interruptions with admirable patience, she thought. When everything was, quite literally, on the table, the young Warden sat back and sipped at her red wine, waiting for the fireworks. Leliana reached out and was playing with the corner of one of the maps as though her fingers missed her harp. Wynne was frowning at Ffion, Zevran had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole explanation and was still tight-lipped, while Morrigan and Sten once more swapped disgusted expressions.

"So this..." Morrigan swept one hand to encompass their gathering, "'Twas all for show then? You have clearly made up your mind, did you make up ours as well? Or do we get a say in this... catastrophe at all?"

Ffion blinked at the venom and slowly placed her goblet back on the table.

"Morrigan, you know I'd never consider doing that," She replied quietly, more hurt than angry at the witch's unfair assumption, "Whether you choose to follow me this time or not is entirely up to you. You're right, though, my mind is made up. Harrowmont gave me maps that detail the safest route to Caridin's Cross and from there... it's in the Maker's hands. But you all should know that my plan is to leave as soon as I've restocked."

"You know I'm in," Alistair said immediately and, try as he might, he couldn't hide the nervousness from his voice which somehow made it more endearing, "Although it's not my ideal spot for a vacation."

Zevran lifted his mug to Ffion, his eyes dancing.

"I am yours, my pet," He told her, his voice a purr as Alistair rolled his eyes, "And you cannot dispose of me so easily. Besides, Chirpy will persist in stumbling into traps; someone needs to catch him, yes?"

"I am in, too, Ffion," Leliana's lilting voice was quieter than usual, but it successfully halted Alistair's protest to Zevran's comment, "You have not led me astray and it would be wrong to desert you now."

"Me too," Wynne was firm, though her smile was as warm as ever as she looked at both the Wardens, "Leaving you without a healer? Maker forbid!"

Ffion smiled with the rest and couldn't help but glance at Sten and Morrigan as she stroked Tilly's ears. She struggled to keep the judgement from her eyes, knowing that was a sure-fire way to kill whatever agreement she might wring from them. Sten was gazing at her steadily, his violet eyes puzzled, as though he was trying to figure out what she was planning. Morrigan, meanwhile, was fiddling with her belt, eyes fixed on her work as her full lips pressed together.

"I think this is insanity," The Qunari finally said, "These Dwarves are using you, but I suppose your methods are not pure either."

Ffion's mouth tipped in a rather wicked smile as she inclined her head.

"No, they aren't," She agreed, "And Harrowmont knows that. He's getting what he wants out of this and I'm getting what I want."

"Yes, I see that," Sten's powerful shoulders lifted and he added, "I don't like this, Ffion, but I owe you my life. My blade is yours."

Morrigan muttered what sounded like several unbecoming curses at both Ffion and Sten, and her gold eyes snapped up to the Qunari.

"You had to use a reasonable argument," She said darkly and then shook her head as she turned her attention to Ffion, "Trusting fools, all of you, and I may be the worst yet. 'Tis absurd and I do not agree, but you have my aid as well."

Ffion had to fight to keep the smug smile from her lips. Instead she nodded again and glanced around at all of them.

"Then we're decided," She commented, "I'll go ahead and-"

"No, this time I'm putting my foot down, Ffion," The Enchanter's tone was such that they didn't even consider arguing with her, "Meeting with Harrowmont was one thing; going into the Deep Roads when not one hundred percent? No, someone else will do the restocking while you wait here and rest."

This time Ffion couldn't prevent the grin from curling her lips and she ducked her head.

"Yes, ma'am," She answered meekly and then glanced around the table again.

"I'll go, dear," Leliana offered, seeing Ffion's look, "Anything specific or just the usual?"

"The usual," The Warden replied slowly as she swirled her wine around her glass, "Splurge on whatever we'll need for potions. Fresh stuff would be great if you can find it; if not... we'll have to make due."

"I'll go with you, Leliana," Alistair cut in, finishing off his mug and getting to his feet, "I need some more whetstones anyway."

"More?" Leliana repeated, disbelief in her voice, "Honestly, Alistair, you need to take up archery. Your costs would decrease drastically, no?"

They continued out, bickering like brother and sister, and Wynne got Ffion to her feet to shepherd her up the stairs and check her injury. Zevran was leaning across the table with that feral grin for the others. He waved one hand for another round and his voice floated up to Ffion, who couldn't help but chuckle,

"About that game of secrets, lovely, now we can play properly, yes?"

"I am being serious, Alistair," Leliana commented as they wandered through the Commons, searching for available supplies, "Archery is not so difficult if you apply yourself."

Alistair was shaking his head, his honey colored eyes unimpressed.

"Drop it," He replied dryly, "I've never been able to hit a target unless I have a sword in my hands and am standing within a few feet of it. Besides, I look like an idiot shooting a bow."

Leliana giggled, picturing that with much more ease than she thought she would. She studied him for a moment before she continued.

"You must have faith, my dear," She said simply and her cheeks dimpled, "I don't think it looks foolish."

"That's because you're built for it," He gave a wave that encompassed her small, petite frame, "You and Ffion both. It looks fine when you two use a bow. It's almost kind of like... I don't know, dancing, I guess. Or... kind of... Oh, Maker's breath! Nevermind!"

The Orlesian was instantly amused. Alistair's obvious soft spot for his fellow Warden was too easy a spot to jab, and she really couldn't help herself.

"Dancing?" She repeated, trailing after the ex-Templar as he approached a table with potion bottles lining the table top, "Yes, I suppose one could draw a comparison. I always thought it was comparable to sex, no? Becoming one with the bow, knowing each twist and turn of the wood, and how the string sighs with the slightest touch... Perhaps I will ask Ffion's opinion."

Alistair's eyes almost bugged out of his head and he stopped so abruptly it was like he ran into an invisible wall. The idea of someone having a discussion with Ffion about... No, it wasn't to be born!

"You – you can't be serious?" He asked weakly and felt color rush to his cheeks, "Ffion doesn't... I mean, she can't know about... that..."

Leliana was dimpling at him in her most becoming manner, winking a little as she replied,

"You think not? Myself, I believe she has much more experience than anyone imagines. Zevran would not be so enamored of her otherwise, no?"

"No!" Alistair exclaimed, horrified. His color deepened as he realized the other shoppers were staring at them. He met the Orlesian's gaze and it dawned on him what she was doing. Letting out a half annoyed, half angry huff of breath, he added, "That's just... cruel."

"You do not wish us to... enlighten her, then?"

The ex-Templar continued to the stand, tossing over his shoulder,

"No, you shouldn't even... Oh, just... shut up."