A/N: Beginning and part of a longer arc of side and personal quests, as well moments in between. (Long) Review responses at the end of this loooong chap, as always. Enjoy.

Special shout-out goes beside beta-awesome Mackillian to Natzo, who drew a stunning picture of Lenya/Alistair. To see here: i(dot)imgur(dot)(com)/y4cGy(dot)jpg (remove/replace the spaces/brackets/words/whatever, you know the drill) Mind. Is. Blown. Thank you so much. Wow. Just wow. *squee*


~*I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way than this […] ~*

~ Pablo Neruda


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Chapter 55: Reunion

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Denerim.

Eamon always came here in winter. For politics, the Landsmeet. Things Alistair didn't understand. He had been just excited that he, for the first time in his life, was allowed to accompany his foster father to see Ferelden's capital.

He had heard stories from the other stable boys before their departure, of course. Fables of a marketplace as huge as Redcliffe itself, of candied apples, and rats as big as Mabari hounds. Alistair hadn't seen a Denerim rat just yet, but the buildings, trees, and streets were bigger and wider than anything he had seen before. It only made sense to him that everything had to be huge because the palace with the king was also in this city. The gray stone castle rose high into the air and was visible from far away, even from his seat in the cart when they arrived.

Alistair wondered if the king ever would get lost in his grand castle with all these rooms, but Eamon had him forbidden to come with him there, like so much else. There were many rooms in Eamon's estate—not as many as in the palace—but for Alistair, there were still none free. Isolde's face had instantly changed color and she had begun to sputter foreign words in her high screeching voice when she saw how he ran through all the rooms with his muddy boots. That was the point where Alistair knew he was in trouble. And yet, he couldn't understand why it had been wrong to be excited. It was the first time he ever had left Redcliffe, after all. Eamon had scolded him for his mistake and now he wasn't allowed to go inside anymore.

Alistair tried to distract himself from the fact that it started to grow dark and thought about how great it would be to be king. Then he would have people doing all the work for him and everyone had to be nice to him. He could order all food he ever wanted, even the biggest cheese or cake and no one would dare to tell him to stop eating.

The growling of his stomach interrupted his thoughts and he pressed himself more into the corner of the kennel. He had found out that the cold wind couldn't reach him there. He looked down at the golem doll—figurine—Eamon had given him earlier and wished it were something to eat. He hadn't eaten much today, had mostly forgotten it while running excited through the large streets, trying to see all at once. Alistair had enjoyed this freedom. No one told him what to do and no stupid Isolde or Eamon scolded him for trivial things. For a few hours, he could pretend to be king and the many figures he built of snow were his faithful subjects.

It had ceased to be fun when the sun was slowly going down and the place shrouded itself in scary shadows. Eamon had no stable of his own here in Denerim, but a Mabari kennel in the courtyard of his mansion. So Alistair thought it would be a good idea to go there, for at least he wouldn't be alone in the night.

Alistair shuddered and one of the big Mabari there whined and inched closer to him. He touched its black, thick fur, buried his hands into it to feel the warmth, stroking it. The hound moved closer still, its body warm and solid against his. It licked over his face to give solace in its canine way.

Alistair decided he liked dogs.

There was peace here, among the Mabari. None of them scolded him or cared if he was not a noble, but a mere bastard. They liked him how he was, unconditionally. They were better than all stupid Eamon and Isolde's and people, who looked at him with disdain and would never accept him for what he was. Embracing the hound, he felt tears forming on his eyes, even though he had sworn he would not cry.

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Alistair woke with a start, blinking in the need to be able to discern dream from reality.

Tent. Day. Blight. Darkspawn. Grey Warden. Not a boy.

Amidst the confusion and the feeling of dread the memories had conjured, he heard Arai's agitated barking. Still sitting on the bedroll, he inhaled the clear and cold air deeply, feeling the slight pulsing of taint as he breathed out. It became stronger and more palpable within mere seconds, the thrumming of his blood accentuated to the speed of his heartbeat. It was the good kind of taint; a resounding rhythm that got answered by another person, a Warden.

Her.

"Lenya!" Alistair smiled despite himself, the ghastly images of his dream already forgotten.

She was back and that was all that counted for him now.

He got up in a hurried rush, the cold making him aware of the need to put his boots on before stumbling out in the snow. His tunic still in hands, he blinked at the blinding reflection of the sunlight within the glistening snow. Alistair hadn't realized before how much of it had fallen while he slept. The numerous flakes had created a white, soft blanket of snow, which covered the whole ground and the treetops above.

He spotted her form in the distance, where she was at the far rear of the group. His companions were passing him by with a greeting or a simple nod and either gathered around the campfire to warm themselves or disappeared into their tents. Leliana's amused giggle reminded him to finally put the woolen tunic over his head, his skin already reddened by the biting cold.

Right, calm down, would you?

He sighed mentally at his irrational rush and need to see her, to ensure that she was well and unhurt. She had been away just a few days, but to Alistair, it felt like weeks—simply too long.

Alistair could see that he wasn't the only one glad about her return. Arai bounced and woofed around his mistress in a frantic pace, his behavior resembling more a lap dog than a war hound. His nubby tail was wagging so hard that his whole hindquarters were shaking. It was a comical sight, even from a distance. Lenya was obviously trying not to get buried under the dog's massive weight, as the animal repeatedly jumped up to her in his joy. Despite the odd looking back and forth to balance her stance, she was laughing, a detached, happy sound that was strange and beautiful at the same time. He rarely had heard her laughing like this before and he liked it. His feet accelerated their speed, almost as if drawn by the sound, her frame becoming more visible with each step.

That was when he noticed her new armor and stumbled into a stop, staring.

It wasn't that Alistair hadn't seen her in armor a hundred times before, quite the opposite. Maker, he had even seen her show far more skin in her initial Dalish armor, but at that time he wondered more how incredibly stupid it was to fight with an exposed midriff than anything else. That kind of armor had been long gone, replaced by one that showed far less and protected her more. Still, it never occurred to Alistair before how very attractive he would find her wearing it; the new set of armor put everything in a new light.

Suddenly, the cold wasn't palpable at all for him, turning into just a distant note in his mind as a strange heat seared through his body. And Maker's ass, he couldn't stop staring at what was a white griffon on her chest, etched into exquisite grey leather that clad her lithe, yet undeniably feminine form. Still occupied with calming down her Mabari, Lenya bowed down to him, putting her arm around the dog's neck, rubbing under his jaw comfortingly.

The motion made Alistair acutely aware that it wasn't the griffon he was looking at, but the way it was visibly rounded out in the chest area. Oh, Maker, she would behead him without a single doubt when she noticed where his eyes lingered, or a guessed at fraction of his thoughts. He had never felt more like a lovesick, ogling teenager than in this moment, even when he was one himself. And what excuse had he now, being a full-grown man? Startled by this realization, his treacherous eyes finally dropped from there, only to stop again at her long, slim leg wrapped in thick leather leggings. She had propped it before her while hugging the Mabari, still not regarding her fellow Warden.

Maker...

He felt like hitting himself to snap out of this delirious, mindless state of staring at her and actually say something. Or even better than that, throw himself into the snow to calm down again, just anything that would make him stop gaping and keep his head from exploding.

"So It still lives. Curious." Shale was staring at him now, the golem packed with various supplies and gear that she carried with ease. "But why it is so red in Its squishy face? It isn't getting sick, is It?" She scoffed, turning to Lenya. "I might carry your useless stuff for now, but I will not carry the stupid clown knight around if It collapses again! Bah, humans."

Still cursing, the golem went on to the distant center of the camp, and behind her followed more than a handful dwarven men, all heavily loaded with packs on their back.

Lenya looked up at Alistair and his mind was too horrified by that to wonder what the dwarves were actually doing here. A frown creased her face. "Are you not feeling well? Have you a fever?"

"I-I... hi!" he managed to say somehow, feeling incredibly awkward and tongue-tied at the same time.

Oh, wonderful. I have the idiot fever, apparently.

To dig himself a hole into the snow and not come out of it until it had melted around him, suddenly seemed like a very appealing option.

She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised in a dubious fashion. "Aneth ara, lethallin." For some unknown reason, Arai started to growl at him at that, but Alistair was too occupied with staring at her, thankfully into her face this time. Which was a start, after all.

The lifted eyebrow was then accompanied by the corner of her mouth, and her eyes glinting mischievously. "Or you just need a bit of refreshing, perhaps?" Before he could even react, she already had bowed down and shoved the handful of snow in her hands right into his face.

Alistair wasn't sure what his expression at her sudden assault of snow was, but it was surely no intelligent one. For she doubled up laughing, as he tried to clean his face from the all the snow, obviously amused by her action and his reaction.

Cruel, cruel woman.

He heard her stifling another fit of laughter exactly long enough to get an, "It is good to be back, puppy," out. Head shaking in amusement, Lenya walked toward their camp, still snorting.

Arai huffed and passed Alistair by with what seemed to be a big doggy grin, as Alistair continued to sputter snow. If he ever doubted that Mabari were capable of glee, that hound had proven him wrong now.

At least he wasn't feeling warm anymore. At all.

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~V~

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Alistair arrived in the center of camp just in time to see Lenya hugging Oghren.

Oghren, of all people. Life wasn't fair.

The dwarf, however, was apparently feeling pretty smug about it. "Heh, Missy. Thought you would like that. I'd have never thought that this nug-licker of a noble would keep her promise, though. Guess that earns me a drink or two on your costs, eh?"

As if her demeanor wasn't already baffling enough, Lenya started to actually smile at the dwarf. Smiling. "Of course." The smile faded and she wrinkled her nose as she backed away from him again. "You still reek worse than any puddle in the Deep Roads. Ugh." Finally, something like her known pattern of behavior. If she hadn't pressed the snow into his face before, Alistair would have believed that Lenya was ignoring him. Even now she wasn't looking at him, her gaze fixed on the dwarf instead.

"Heh, you apparently have no idea of men, Missy. This isn't a smell, this is manly odor. Women love it."

Alistair made a face as he sat down and started to unpack one of the packs Shale had thrown down about everywhere. If smelling like Oghren was equal with being manly, then he would prefer to stay an ogling adolescent all his life, thank you very much.

Oghren pointed at the others and the dwarves who were helping to unpack the much needed supplies and tents. "So what are all these sodding dwarves doing here? I always enjoyed being the only dwarf around, y'know." He chortled. "Makes me feel special."

Lenya shrugged. "These are Bhelen's men. He thought he hasn't thanked me enough for making him king and that we needed added supplies for this important mission. I let him think that he was right." She looked over to the dwarves scurrying around the camp, repairing or replacing gear with nimble hands. "They've done a good job without falling into the sky so far."

Oghren looked up to the clear blue sky and groaned. "Ugh. Thanks for reminding me of what I was trying to forget, Missy. I don't like looking up and seeing a great infinite nothing. Your sky still makes me sick. I better go and see that these stone forsaken fools don't mess up when erecting my new tent." He paused to snort. "Erect, get it? Hehehe."

Alistair watched after the dwarf with an arched eyebrow. "He never gets tired of these stupid and childish jokes, does he?"

"Just like you, I suppose." Ouch. He must have unconsciously flinched a bit at that, for she made an apologetic expression. "Abelas, I'm a bit on the edge after days and days of Zevran's endless innuendos." The smile returned to her face. "Yours are just stupid."

"You are too kind, really." It came out more snarky than intended, so Alistair hurried to add, "Anyway, did anything happened there? Are you okay?" He knew too well how much she disliked being in Orzammar.

"Yes." She sighed, watching the apple in her hand with a frown. "We went to the Deep Roads, I killed many darkspawn in that shit-hole, surprisingly easy as pie. We found proof that Shale is—was—indeed once a dwarven woman. Sten's sword is in some shemlen village." Lenya paused a moment to think. "Oh... and Zevran and Leliana apparently have something going on, which I prefer to not know any more of. Ugh." With a disgusted expression, she bit into her apple, nearly wolfing it down like Arai did with the rabbit at her feet.

Alistair needed a second or two to process the information given to him. As it had sunken in, his eyes widened. "Zevran? Leliana? You are having me on, right? Right?" He mentally cringed at the hopeful nuance in his voice. Why did he even care?

Lenya shrugged. "I might not have... " She faltered and visibly tensed at her verbal slip, sighing again. "But I'm not stupid. I know what I saw and I wish I hadn't. Ugh. Believe me, puppy."

"Wow. I mean, really?" He blinked and pointed toward the tents of the both companions. It just seemed so... impossible. "I always thought Leliana had better taste, though." Then another piece of what Lenya had said clicked into place and he felt himself starting to glow again at the mere meaning of those words. Which only conjured entirely inappropriate pictures of his fellow Warden in his mind and he quickly tried to think on everything but that, because it wasn't right.

Morrigan. Chant of Light. Oghren in his underpants. Morrigan. Ugh.

Nevertheless, he wouldn't be surprised if the Maker struck down with lightning at that moment. Or Lenya would, for that matter, not with lightning, but with a sword, for sure. Alistair sighed. Maybe he simply needed to get out of the camp and back into the thick of action. For days, he had done nothing but sleep and reduced training to keep himself fit while letting his injuries heal. No wonder he was tense, brimming with energy, even. He was so used to the daily exertion—no matter if in his prior routine as a Templar initiate or their dangerous days on the road—that doing nothing made him miss that now. Badly. He made a mental note to hurl himself into hours of training before even attempting to give her the rose.

The rose.

Alistair still had no idea how and when to give her that, beyond that he wanted to. It was a possible disaster in the making, especially with the newly discovered effect she seemed to have on him. And still, he didn't want to wait any longer to finally hand her the flower he had kept for so long.

Not now, obviously. Not where the camp was so stuffed with people running around and he felt so on the... edge. Lenya deserved better, which included a man not drooling over her while giving her a heartfelt gift that had a deeper meaning for him. He loved her and that fact made the prospect of rejection even more frightening, unbearable, even. It was what kept him from making a move in the first place, aside from not knowing how or what to say. And even now, he wasn't sure about the, well, method. If there were such thing at all.

"I have something for you."

Lenya apparently had no such problems. Alistair jerked from his thoughts in a rush, recognizing that she had been sitting in silence with him for a while, a book in her hands. Now she looked up from it and smiled at him, every part of her radiant to him.

"Oh... for me?" he asked in disbelief and she nodded with a hum. Putting the book carefully aside, Lenya stood up to search in the nearby supplies. Alistair's gaze fell on the book, noticing that a white griffon was embroidered on its cover.

A griffon. How ironic. He'd always liked the stories of the Grey Wardens of old, but he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to look at their symbol the same way after seeing it on Lenya's new armor. At least not when it was displayed in such a decorative and alluring way on her chest, that was for sure.

Right... Morrigan. Chant of Light. Oghren in his underpants. Morrigan.

"Here." A sword shoved into his sight interrupted his berating thoughts and he took it carefully out of her hands, noting its well-crafted, engraved sheath. He rolled his shoulders, his fingers itching with the want to free the sword from its scabbard.

"Go on," Lenya said. "I didn't have to pay for it. It is from the Warden armory."

"From the Warden armory..." He drew the weapon, his muscles flexing automatically in a well-practiced motion. Watching it, he noticed a white-blue hue around the blade itself, the material silverite, if he guessed right. Despite or due its old age, it was masterfully crafted and treated with utmost care. "I see. Thank you," he said in earnest, if a bit skeptical due to its origin.

Lenya hadn't missed the tone in his voice and rolled her eyes. "I'm a Warden fighting the Blight, so it is only my right to take whatever pointy thing I need to achieve that. Or you." She paused. "There was a fitting shield too, but it was way too heavy for me. Creators, how are you carrying that around all the time?"

He grinned, not really serious. "I'm a big guy."

"Obviously." The Dalish shook her head, if in amusement or exasperation, Alistair couldn't say. "There is another thing," she said and reached behind herself, bringing a sealed oil cloth forth and handing it to him. "Here."

Alistair gaped at her, now for an entirely different reason as he unwrapped the cloth. "Cheese?" he whispered in awe, not believing it.

Lenya chuckled at his reaction and pointed at the rounded object in his hands. "That I bought. Remember when you used your money to buy me a sword the first time around?" The smile widened to an impish grin. "Now we are even."

He felt giddy, too excited for his own good at the prospect of the taste. He hadn't had cheese in months or, rather, ages. "I... you bought me cheese? I mean cheese. Wow. I love you." Alistair stopped dead in his motions and words, feeling his cheeks flaring up in an instant. Shaking the feeling off, he rushed to add, "Err... for the cheese, obviously."

To his huge relief, she hadn't noticed his slip, as she was too busy laughing. "You are an odd human, getting excited over stupid cheese."

"It's not stupid!" He patted the small cheese wheel in his lap, speaking to it as if it were a beloved pet, and grinning. "Don't listen to her. You are not stupid. You are a good cheese."

He was rewarded with another chortling fit of laughter and it made him feel almost proud, having elicited it out of her. What was not to love in this woman?

"Well, what can I say?" The grin broadened, and he was feeling completely at ease with her in the moment. "I'm a simple man. I like cheese, wielding pointy sticks, and have a minor obsession with my hair. See? Simple." Alistair lowered his head to level with hers, to catch her eyes. "Don't say you don't have a minor obsession for a particular food after all the things I've seen you stuffing into yourself."

Lenya scowled at him, more for the good measure than being really serious. "Look who's talking. Which reminds me of a joke someone told me in Tapsters." Lenya stopped to take a sharp intake of the cold winter air and smirked. "How do you know a Grey Warden is nearby?"

"I… don't know?"

"Your larder is suddenly empty."

Alistair chuckled. "Too true. When that started with my ...well, increased appetite, I used to get up in the middle of the night and raid the castle larder. I thought I was starving and slurped every meal down as if it were my last." He grimaced." Hasn't changed much since then, I fear. Just the larders, oh, I miss them. Really."

"I was never too picky about food, even before this Grey Warden thing." Her eyes flickered past him, into the distance. "In my clan, we couldn't afford to be. We shared all the food and animals we had hunted and ate all together as well. If you didn't like what had been cooked, well, you had to hunt your own meal."

The Dalish laughed at the memory of herself storming off into the forest, due to the sticky and disgusting millet stew Ashalle once cooked. It hadn't been so long ago, but it already felt like a lifetime. She shook the wistfulness off and looked back at her fellow Warden, smiling. "I love the baked round things Sten once had, by the way."

He blinked, surprised about her confession. "Cookies? You like cookies? Interesting."

Lenya pouted, which caused his eyes to drop to her lips, if only for a moment. "Yes. We didn't have... those. While my clan had sweet halla milk and such, we never had the sweet, brown, tasty—what is it called? Elgar'nan, your tongue is so confusing and cumbersome at times."

"Chocolate? Oh, this I can understand. Everyone loves chocolate. In fact, I think the few who say they don't are liars." He halted to look across the camp, grinning. "Which reminds me... I haven't seen Morrigan for a while. Maybe she had found another bitchy, giant spider and they are happily crawling up and down a wall together? Aww, lovely. I wish them all the best."

Lenya bestowed him with a dark glower, which caused him to raise his hands in defense. "Okay, I get it, I get it. Stop glaring. For some unexplainable reason, you are very fond of her. But then again, you also hugged Oghren, so I guess that doesn't say much."

"He rescued me from having doing yet another stupid errand in Orzammar."

"Still... Oghren? I get snow in my face as a greeting and he gets a hug?" He crossed his arms, glaring at her in mock-exasperation. "That is not fair."

Lenya rolled her eyes. "How old are you? Four? Oghren deserved the hug after bringing us fifteen gold from some noble durgen'len there who got her house restored due to his help, or something."

"I'm actually twenty, I think. It's hard to keep track—" Alistair stopped as her words sank in. "Huh? Really? Fifteen gold? Wow, that's... wow. I guess I need to hug him, too, then." His expression gave away how much the very idea alone irked him. Then the crease in his face softened again as his eyes rested at Lenya. "Anyway, thank you. I haven't said that before, so it is about time."

"Not a big deal. We could afford to buy the cheese, as I said."

He shook his head, smiling. "Not that. Given, the idea with the cheese was... brilliant and I won't share it for my life. But I actually meant for saving me from becoming nothing more than a stain under the ogre's feet, or rather, a bloodied mush in its claws."

"You won't... share?" Apparently food was more important to her than his heartfelt gratitude. He didn't know whether to be amused or offended.

"Well, with you, perhaps." Alistair inwardly cringed at the unwanted flirtatious tone in his voice. Maker, he had never ever shared his cheese before in his life; it was the only thing he was selfish about. As a boy, he even had adamantly fought with the huge cat in the stable to keep his share of cheese when it tried to steal it. And now there was Lenya, batting her eyelashes at him once, and he was willing to present her it on a silver tray. When did it happen that she had wrapped him around her finger without even trying? He sighed inwardly at the discovery of yet another aspect of love that was completely and utterly bewildering him.

"Great," Lenya said, getting his attention back to her. She seemed more than excited at the prospect, clasping her hands together. "I have a loaf or two of fresh bread hidden in my pack." She grinned. "For the hard times. Anyway, I'm willing to share, if you are. We can put the bread on a stick together with the cheese and roast it over the fire until the cheese has molten. I'll go and get them." She almost bounced up to leave for her tent, his eyes tracing her exit.

Alistair was absolutely sure that he had never seen her so relaxed and in such good mood before, almost as if she had decided to leave her guard down around him. Maybe he was just seeing things because of how much he wished it to be actually true and not some wishful thinking.

He wanted to see more of this Lenya, of a woman not bitter about life, but brimming with energy, enjoying the small things. More of the woman who laughed at his stupid jokes, instead of glaring at him for it. He wanted to hear her talk and laugh, watch her smile and getting to know the little things she liked and hated. He couldn't help but to want more of that.

With his mistress away, Arai looked up to him and growled, as if surmising where his thoughts lingered. It was nothing like the playful growl the hound had given him in her absence before, and more like a warning.

"What? Am I stepping into your territory?"

Arai growled anew, this time low and snarling.

"This isn't a competition, you know. She is my fellow Warden and friend. She can have more than just one friend." Alistair smiled, completely ignoring the hound. Friend. It was still somehow a strange word to use in association with Lenya, but one he used gladly. Considering how distrustful and angry she had been in the beginning, this was a huge step forward, but he couldn't help hoping that it was the beginning of something... more.

The Mabari huffed and turned around, offended at not being treated seriously by the human. With his paws, he started to dig up the loose snow, only to hurl it right into Alistair's face, along with the frozen dirt. The Warden sputtered and spat the pieces of mud and snow out and got up in a rush to get the damned dog. But Arai was a lot quicker, with a noise that suspiciously sounded like canine laughter, he snatched Alistair's sheathed new sword from the ground and made a beeline for the trees nearby.

"Heeeey!" Alistair was about to run after the Mabari as a squeal reached his ears, the all too well-known voice making him stop in an instant. He turned to its source, just as it the scream resounded a second time, more hysterical now.

He shook his head. Lenya and hysterical were two things that were normally incomparable in his mind. Nevertheless, he hurried over to her tent and found her standing frozen in fear with the loaves of bread in her hands. The reason for her anxiety was sitting right in front of her—a black, elegant animal, which was calmly licking its paws, seemingly unperturbed by the commotion.

"C-c-c-c-cat!" She immediately ducked behind Alistair's broad shoulders upon his arrival and shoved him toward the oh-so-horrid monster. "Make it go away!" Mustering all her bravado, she peeked from behind Alistair's left side and thrust the loaf of bread at the animal, missing it by a fair inch. Instantly, she stepped behind his back again, and between her shaking, managed what he surmised being colorful curses in Elvish.

"Not the bread!" He didn't care how whiny that sounded because he had really looked forward to eating it, roasted. With cheese. Besides that, he tried his best not to laugh at the thought of Lenya—who had unflinchingly killed a giant ogre a few days ago—hiding behind his back because of a cat. Sighing, Alistair gave in to her relentless prodding from behind and made some half-hearted noises to scare the animal away. He noticed how the others of their group were watching him, thoroughly amused at his failure to impress even a little cat. It was as if this creature were laughing at him, gleaming up at him with yellow eyes that seemed all too familiar.

He needed a moment until the haughty gaze of the cat let him find the missing connection in his mind. "Right, very funny, Morrigan. The next time, I let Arai eat you!"

If I haven't killed the dog before then, anyway.

"M-Morrigan?" came from behind him, with the next bit said all too hopefully. "It is not a cat?" Lenya's hand released the fistful of fabric they had grabbed on his back, his skin all too hot where her fingers had lingered.

Focus...

Alistair turned around to her just as she peeked from behind his back, taking a cautious step forward.

"Not a cat. Good," Lenya said more to herself than to him and he shook himself to hinder the laughter from breaking out his throat.

"Whaaaa!" As he turned again, Morrigan stood right before him all the sudden, her eyes glowering at him in the same derisive way as the animal before. If he was honest with himself, he liked the cat better.

"Fool." She folded her arms, her eyes fixing on Lenya, now right beside him. "I need to talk to you."

Lenya took a deep breath, not quite relaxing her wary stance, but glaring at the witch nonetheless. "No."

"'Tis very important. Come to my tent when you have finished your childish sulking."

"Huh..." Alistair said, watching her stride away in a more haughty way than all cats in Thedas ever could. "So she hasn't left after all? Too bad." He looked at Lenya and noticed that she was, in fact, sulking, and he couldn't help but grin. "You know, I promise to protect you from all the fearsome cat beasts in Ferelden, but someday, I really want to know why you are so afraid of them."

Her only answer was a huff and a glower, the previous good mood obviously gone by now.

"Miss grumpy girl rears her head again, hmm? It wasn't me who scared you like that, remember?" He could feel how his opportunity to spend more time with her was slipping away, the amicable mood broken due to that damned witch.

"I guess I see you later then..."

Frustrated, Alistair turned and opted to go for a bit of training first and try to catch her later, in hopefully a better frame of mind. He would even save the cheese for then. Well, most of it.

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"You want me to kill Asha'belannar?"

Lenya blinked up to a frantically pacing Morrigan in front of her own separate bonfire.

It didn't surprise Morrigan that the elf was not running blindly into doing her this no small favor. In fact, she had expected her to object. This was why she was the leader here and not that dim-witted twit. "I will do whatever it takes to survive, but I can't do this on my own. Mother would immediately take action if she became aware of my knowledge of her plans. So, I need your help."

The Dalish snorted. "That's some news."

"This is not the time to jest, Lenya!" Her glower was angry, frustrated. Couldn't she see how important this was? "Do not think I was pleased to find out how mother sustains her youth, nor that I was groomed and trained to be her next new body. I was expecting to find new spells, a way to enhance my power... not this."

Lenya frowned as she took a moment to take all in. "So you want your mother dead?"

Feeling uneasy at the thought, Morrigan hesitated before speaking. "Under normal circumstances, of course I would not turn against my mother so. For all that she is not the picture of maternal love, I mean her no ill will." She stopped her pacing only to give a pointed, dark look at the Dalish. "But Flemeth herself taught me long ago: once you know your enemy, strike quickly and without mercy. Were our positions reversed, she would no doubt do exactly the same."

She saw the Warden wavering, not believing her as the frown furrowed the lines of her tattoo even deeper. "You think you owe her your life? Mother is no frail old woman and especially you with all the knowledge of your people should know that. She did not pluck you both from top of that tower out of charity, either." Morrigan cut herself off, huffing out a short sigh, regretting her careless words. The flurry of bothersome emotions within clouded her ability to act calm and collected as usual, and she hated herself for that.

"No?" Lenya's eyes narrowed. "What was the reason for our rescue, then? It seems you know it."

Morrigan glowered at her, annoyed at her sharp perception. Of course Lenya had to pick up at that, instead of simply moving on to agreeing. As much as the witch valued her company, she was as much unnerved by her absolute stubbornness in equal parts. It was maddening. "Flemeth is a powerful abomination, but even she isn't immortal. A blade through her heart kills her all the same. So 'twas simply in her interest to not let the Blight spread further without a Grey Warden to battle it. The Blight is a threat to her, like for anyone else."

There was still doubt visible in Lenya's eyes, but Morrigan had managed to dampen it to a small, trivial flickering with her words. "I feel no joy in asking you. But should you not help me, I will need to leave you in order to protect myself. I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled." It surprised her how much the thought of leaving actually bothered her, but she would do everything to survive. Everything.

Lenya was gnawing on her lips, a gesture that indicated she was thinking. "Is there not another possibility? Asha'belannar is in the Korcari Wilds, if I remember correctly. We are currently at the other end of Ferelden, near Orzammar."

Morrigan couldn't believe what she was hearing, and her voice rose to a furious volume. "And? Are you saying that my life isn't worth traveling that distance? Need I remind you that you went back to Orzammar and the Deep Roads for that worthless pile of stone? And now, when I ask something of you, it is too much trouble? 'Tis unbelievable!"

Morrigan whipped around, away from the Dalish, too sick of her face, too sick of all the emotions raging in her. Underneath the anger there was a flicker of hurt at Lenya's reaction and she despised its presence. When had she become so weak? Her fingers clenched into fists at her side as she tried to will that feeling away and steady her breathing again.

Lenya said nothing for a long while, the cracking of the dying firewood the only audible sound. Morrigan still had her back turned to her, mind racing with the near futile possibilities if Lenya denied her this request. She was not urging her to speak, knowing that it was much she asked of the Dalish, but she was her best chance to survive. Morrigan hated it. She never wanted to depend on someone, never thought she would need to.

Apparently, she had been wrong.

She felt something wet on the underside of her hand, sniffing. Lenya's Mabari whined quietly and licked her palm in an attempt at canine comfort. Morrigan yanked her hand away and glared down at the animal. How low has she sunken that even a dog pitied her? Arai's ears flattened, the whining sounding now sad, dejected. She sighed once in resignation and patted his head, reluctant at first, and then with a bit more enthusiasm. The hound woofed quietly in contentment and inched closer to the witch, visibly enjoying the attention.

"How far is it from the Korcari Wilds to the borders of the Brecilian Forest?" Lenya's voice nearly startled Morrigan, making her turn. "I remember they are somewhat close to each other, but don't know what that means in distance." A dry, crooked smile flashed on Lenya's face for a second. "I wasn't out of the forest much before, you know."

Morrigan was confused. "Why is this important?"

Lenya lowered her gaze to her hands, fumbling with them, voice tiny. "We need to find... my people, a Dalish clan. For the treaty. It would be hard to find them now in winter, but the cold will pass soon. Call it a feeling of mine. So, including the weeks of travel we would need toward the forest, we wouldn't arrive there before spring, anyway. Which would make it easier to find them."

Slowly, it dawned Morrigan what the elf was implying. "Are you saying you are going to help me?"

Lenya shrugged. "I need to sell it to the others, because this request of yours is utterly and completely insane. Hence my question. To kill Asha'belannar..." The Dalish shook her head, snorting. "Creators, I have done many stupid and irresponsible things in my life, but that would top all of them. Easily."

Morrigan let out a breath she didn't remember holding and felt the tension leaving her body." I... don't know what to say. Thank you. You are not really killing her, if that thought is solace to you. You'd just give me the needed time—years—where I can work on ways to protect myself from her claim. My body is my own and I do not intend to give it away to an ancient abomination... or anyone. I was sure you would understand this." She couldn't help the small smile that snuck into her features, unbidden.

The Dalish stood up from the log, arching an eyebrow at her, as if she still couldn't believe to have actually agreed to this. "Yeah, whatever. Actually, if I do fail, I will find comfort in the thought that the archdemon will crunch you into a fine witch paste."

Morrigan detected a hint of humor in her voice. She didn't mind the friendly mocking, which was also unexpected. The smile on her face lingered. "Likely. Although, I think Flemeth will catch me before the darkspawn can. But I have seen you fight and I have confidence in your skills. Mother is not immortal."

"How comforting," Lenya muttered under her breath, accompanied by a roll of her eyes. Such a typical reaction for the Dalish.

Morrigan's hand reached out to lay it on Lenya's shoulder, almost of its own account. Golden eyes remained locked on green, beseeching. "The thing I must have is Mother's real grimoire. With it, I can defend myself against her powers in the future. Everything else in the hut is yours."

Lenya shook her head with a smile, the humor in her voice still present. "Another book, huh? I hope you are capable of repaying me for what I'll do for you there."

With a sigh, she turned, motioned Arai to follow her, ready to leave. Whereas in other times it always had been Morrigan who urged her to go, now it seemed Lenya had enough of her company. Understandably so, and still the witch felt a twinge of regret as she watched her walk back to the main camp.

"Believe me, I will," she eventually heard herself saying, out into the nothingness of her secluded camp, the cracking of fire the only answer. A scowl formed itself on her features.

She owed Lenya nothing, as she was only securing her survival. It was the sensible thing to do and there was no need to feel remorse about using her to confront her mother... or for anything that would follow.

'Tis an unwanted feeling. Weakness.

Frustrated, Morrigan turned toward her potions, the well-versed occupation an attempt to allow her mind forget these bothersome emotions.

If only for a little while.

.

.


.

Arai looked up to his mistress and gave her a quizzical whine.

Lenya's hand scratched him behind his ear, a motion more to comfort herself than the dog. "Yeah, I don't know why I agreed to that, either." She sighed. "I really... like Morrigan, but... I don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."

The dog offered a soft chuff of agreement and peered back to Morrigan's place, sneezing. His nose nudged her into Lenya's side, making her look at him again, his brown, faithful eyes begging.

"Well, there is no sense in fretting over it now. We need to go in that direction, anyway. It is time—" Lenya stopped, a mixed feeling of wistfulness and longing twisting her heart at the thought. "To search for the Dalish."

Using the term as an abstract word didn't help to lessen the impact the meaning had on her. To return to her people was something she wanted, and yet feared most. Much had happened in the past months. She was accepting her new life as a Warden now, but it didn't change the fact that she was first and foremost Dalish. It was the reason why Lenya dreaded the task so, because she feared that after finding them—even if it wasn't her own clan—that she wouldn't want to leave them afterward. The request to slay Asha'belannar did little to dampen her discomfort, rather the opposite. It was almost as if Morrigan knew that she couldn't deny her this request.

"Elger'nan..." she said in frustration and Arai slanted his head, whining. "Why does have all to be so damn complicated all the time?"

The camp was still bustling with activity upon her return, which had been the reason why Lenya had actually sought the seclusion of Morrigan's place. If she'd known that the visit would have resulted in this, she'd have simply left for the quieter area of trees nearby. After the recent horrors of the Deep Roads and no time to sort out all the events and convoluted thoughts in her head, it was what she needed most. Solitude. Yet, the busy camp made privacy impossible, and only added to her restlessness.

The dwarves were still scurrying around, finishing the last details of their task, seemingly in a hurry to leave the surface behind. Wynne was talking to Leliana, who avoided looking even remotely in Zevran's direction. The elf, however, was engaged in some kind of card game with Oghren, laughing at the dwarf's frustration of having lost yet another round. Sten and Shale were present and, at the same time, not, doing nothing but silently glowering and observing the rest of their group.

Lenya half-expected to find her fellow Warden sitting at the fire, but to her surprise, his place was empty, shield and sword also gone. She spotted him as a tiny human dot in the far east of the area, occupied with fluid, expert movements with his blade, training.

For a moment, she was tempted to join him, but the strain in every muscle of her body told her that sparring wouldn't be a wise option now. Maybe she could at least manage to duck into her tent without being noticed and close the canvas until it was time for her night watch. Whenever that would be.

"Let's go. Quietly," she said to Arai and pointed toward her tent. The Mabari barked in agreement and crouched over the frozen, snow-covered grass in the effort to make himself smaller, less visible. It was a comical sight beside her, which made her smile as they made a beeline to the intended refuge.

"Commander?"

Just before reaching her tent, a voice stopped her from entering. "I'm not—" Lenya turned around with a sigh. "What is it?"

The dwarf flinched a bit at her exasperated growl, but remained in his place. He nodded politely. "I wanted to report that our task is done. The supplies are stacked and sorted, the damages repaired or the tents replaced with new ones. The engraved runes should make it easier for you to carry all your gear around." He paused, waiting for a reaction of the Dalish, which never came. Feeling uneasy under her blank stare, he continued, "I also have lists here with the recruits we have so far to fight the Blight. King Bhelen wanted you to have this."

Lenya looked at the stack of vellum paper in his outstretched hand and reluctantly took them. "How nice."

"Our king doesn't expect such a timely return from you, but we can assure you that everything is going to the according plan. We are going be ready to march against the Blight when you are, Warden Commander."

"I'm not—" Whatever. Smile and nod, Lenya. "I'm glad to hear that. Anything else?"

The dwarf hesitated a moment, his long black beard bristling in the cold breeze. "We... would like to return to Orzammar as quickly as possible. My men and I are feeling uneasy under the open sky. If you don't mind, we would like to lea—"

"Yes, it is all right. Thank you for your help."

He nodded anew, his bow a bit deeper now. "No, we have to thank you for what you did for Orzammar and House Aeducan. May the stone bring you luck on your difficult task, Warden."

Lenya mirrored the gesture and watched the dwarven group leaving, just glad that it was a bit quieter now without them.

"Lenya, we should discuss the watch schedule for tonight."

Or not.

Lenya groaned at the approaching figure of Leliana. Without waiting for the bard to arrive, she slipped into her tent and closed the flaps with a resolute motion.

"No."

"But I don't want to take the shift together with Zevran and you know why."

"I said no!" The harsh tone in Lenya's voice made Leliana waver. Good, otherwise she would let Arai bite her head off, if the human dared to enter. Lenya looked at the already asleep Mabari, lying outstretched beside her bedroll and rolled her eyes.

If I can get the dog to move, that's it.

"Creators! Who do I need to murder here to get a bit of rest? Are you really incapable of solving this without me?"

A long, awkward pause followed. "No?" the bard finally said.

"Fine. Then. Leave." Another moment passed before the shadow in front of her tent started to vanish.

Lenya let herself fall with a sigh on her bedroll and reveled in the alien feeling of being glad to be alone.

.

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A/N: Sorry for its lengths, but the shorter version I had before didn't work well for me. So looong chap, it is.