ZEVRAN
"Are you sure about this?" Tallis whispers to the Champion, as our group ascends the cleared torture chambers stairwell, into the chateau. "I'll help you either way, Hawke, but going up into the castle again . . . Chances are we're going to run into the Duke's army."
"I'm not leaving Serena behind," he says.
Good answer, I muse inwardly, a smirk turning up my lips. Though, I expected nothing less.
The Champion is a loyal partner and friend. It would be out of character for him to abandon anyone, much less one deemed part of his crew.
Even if this proved not to be the case, I would remain, as I imagine would several others. I promised to storm the Black City's gates themselves to be with the Warden after all, at the Battle of Denerim, and despite the madness of the sentiment, I meant it and still do.
I am beginning to wonder now, however, if that wording will ever have any true merit. The situations my magnificent wife has found herself in continues to exceed the imagination.
Ah well . . .
I suppose it does make for interesting conversations.
And at the moment, there are many things I must discuss with the Duke. Where he is holding her, no doubt against her will, only being a starters.
My fingers curl tighter around my daggers at the thought, that small reminding detail resurrecting the seething rage I have been suppressing within.
Clenching my jaw, I rush up the remainder of the dark stairwell. Hawke pushes open the top door, and the lot of us step out into what I presume to be a well-lit, grand audience chamber of some sort, fit with decorative red and gold embroidered carpet, matching wall curtains, and near constant painted portraits. The lower level we are on also offers a few scarce stone benches to sit upon, with various statues spread throughout.
But the overhead level provides a sight I did not expect.
Duke Prosper, standing on the central landing, staring down at us from behind the stone rails with his hands on his hips.
We all halt. Several guards run down the staircase behind him, fanning out to both sides of the room. A handful of archers aim their arrows at us from upstairs, while the others race down to our level to surround us with their swords.
"Done with my hospitality already, are we?" Prosper asks, as we all go back to back, swiftly drawing our weapons. He shakes his head. "Such a shame."
The Chasind from before joins the ranks encircling us. His frowning countenance, paired with his stiff, overbearing stature and crossed arms, on par with another hornless brute I know.
Hawke looks at him, then back at Prosper. "It's not that we don't appreciate the accommodations, but . . . you know how it is."
Prosper squints at him, half smirking, half glaring. Perhaps a tad fond of the Champion's candid sense of humor, like so many others. "Alas! It's too soon for my guests to leave." He rests one hand on the railing. "You will miss the main event!"
"I could live with that!" Hawke quickly stammers.
"But could she?" Prosper steps aside to wave at the upper stairwell behind him.
Serena steps into sight, a white masked harlequin pressed up right behind her, holding two daggers tight to her throat.
My heart drops.
She stiffly walks up beside the Duke, at the patched-clothed clown's behest.
Her worried gaze meets mine. Fury boils within my blood. I grit my teeth, hands trembling, squeezing so tight I'd like to strangle the life out of the pommels of my daggers. For that is exactly what I wish to now do to the Duke and his garish lackeys for the offense.
"Just let her go, Prosper! It's me you want!" Tallis scowls up at him.
"What I want is to ensure you cannot further hinder my plans!" Throwing his arms out wide, he turns to walk away, back up the stairs Serena and his soldiers descended. The barred gate shuts as he passes, and he glimpses back at us all over his shoulder. "Do your job and kill them, Chasind. Is that not why I keep you around?"
With that final condescending comment, he exits up the remaining steps.
"That is it! Hold them. I'm releasing the pets!" The Chasind races down to the dungeon.
"I. Am not. A damsel!" Serena shouts and throws up a massive wall of flame between her and her captor.
The harlequin jumps back, dropping their daggers, and starts flailing their burning arms about, identical to a flightless bird. Serena snatches the fallen blades up, spins around, and, dispersing the flames, shoves one of the daggers up into the panicked harlequin's throat. Their body twitches and falls.
Serena turns around to look at us. "Well, don't wait on my account!" she waves at our other enemies, who are all watching, seeming just as stunned as we are by the swift turn of events.
I chuckle under my breath. "Let's dance, then," I leap at my nearest opponent, slipping past his guard, and slicing his throat as I pass, "shall we?"
Chaos erupts in the room.
Hawke, Fenris, and Tallis rush to take on the other chevaliers, while Varric, Anders, and Serena target their efforts on the archers overhead. The one unoccupied archer shoots at me.
I pull back my recent choking victim by the arm, and, using him as a shield, his ally's arrow pierces him in the chest.
He crumbles in front of me with a cluttered thump.
The archer hurries to draw another round.
Holding my right arm all the way back, I throw one of my daggers at them as hard as possible. It lodges itself in the center of the fumbling sod's face, knocking him over instantly. I sprint up the nearby stairs the second he's on the ground.
Serena stands not far from his corpse, hunched over slightly, panting, sweating, her nearby archer opponent now convulsing from electric shocks across the floor. Her spell dissipates, and the archer ceases moving. As do the remaining enemies scattered throughout the room, I gather, from the proceeding silence.
Fenris dashes up the adjacent steps a moment's breath later, the others following close behind. He heads straight to Serena, hand immediately held out in close proximity, reaching for the side of her neck.
"Were you hurt? What happened?" He examines her up and down, his worried gaze darting, checking everywhere in sight.
"I'm fine! I'm fine, Fenris." Serena grasps onto his hand and forcefully stares him in the eyes.
He takes a deep breath and seems to calm with the assertation. But his rigid demeanor remains obvious, even to least attentive observer.
"How very like you to serve as your own rescuer," I approach next. They both turn to look at me. "You never do disappoint, my dear Warden." I beam at her.
Serena smiles back. The warmth and life behind her eyes breathtaking.
It takes everything I have not to bring her into my arms then. To reassure myself like Fenris that she is indeed safe. Here. Alive.
But now is not the time.
Later, when time and privacy allow, would be a different matter, and I intend to indulge my whims then fully.
"Here. We at least managed to find your kit." Anders hands Serena her bag, which we found in the dungeon, alongside Tallis's Hawke's.
"Well, that's a relief." She immediately takes it from him, kneels, and throws the main flap wide open. She pulls out the totality of her warden armor, piece by piece, piling it in a disorganized heap on the floor. Then, when it is all gathered together, she starts to unbutton her dress.
Hawke immediately shifts awkwardly and looks away. Ever so finnicky and proper for a comrade who has likely seen us all mostly or fully naked in healings before.
"Mind filling me in on what happened?" Serena asks, completely oblivious to the amusing reaction. Far too fixated on her task to pay attention to the side entertainment.
"Well, besides some minor destruction of property and discovering that the Duke's servants offer dog-eaten pies, concealed with gravy, the Duke . . ." He pauses, sighs, and scratches the side of his cheek, ". . . may or may not have cornered us in the vault, after receiving a tip off from the qunari."
"Qunari?" Serena stops her undressing to raise an eyebrow at Hawke. "Why the qunari?"
"Mmm. About that..." He turns his head more, seeming determined to look even further away. despite the rest of our group not bothering with the same courtesy.
Serena stares at him, waiting. Futilely. Then, something seems to click. She fixates on Tallis in narrowed scrutiny. "You're... qunari?"
"Ben-hasserath, technically." Tallis shrugs with a faint simper.
Serena sighs, throws off the last of her dress, and starts re-donning her armor. "And let me guess," she continues, once most of it is on, "the jewel was also a lie then?"
"It's . . . a long story. I'll explain as we go," Hawke says. "Standing here, going over specifics, is wasting time we don't have."
"Then we should head for the caves," Tallis offers.
The two nod and glimpse at Serena. Noting she now looks ready, they head for the dungeon's stairwell.
"Wait." Serena holds a hand up to them.
They both halt and face her.
"First, we're grabbing something worthwhile." She smirks.
A scheming glimmer flickers in her marvelous teal eyes. One I recognize, admire—promising a new abundance of mischievous fun, that makes it impossible for me to resist a grin as well.
Yes. Every moment spent with her, regardless of the adversity, is surely worthwhile.
SERENA
"So we are helping the qunari?" Fenris raises his voice, the second we step out of the Chateau's underground caves, after agreeing to continue forward with Tallis. Massive green pines now surround the lot of us outside on the secluded mountain path, their fresh scent almost overpowering that of the grass's early morning dew.
"I told you. There are many innocent lives at stake as well!" Tallis glares back at him from her place beside Hawke.
"And how many 'innocents' have the Qunari slaughtered? Bah!" Fenris huffs and looks away, his dark brow furrowing up in unrestrained distaste.
His reaction's understandable, especially after our past dealings with qunari. And it'd be a lie to say I'm not a bit confused as well.
When Hawke told me their whole debaculous tale, while looting the Duke's vault for all it's worth, a part of me couldn't believe she was still allowed to travel with us. We have literally fought ghasts, chevaliers, a wyvern, a chasind, brainwashed and likely abused mages, and got on the bad side of a Duke, all for her. And what have we gotten in return?
Lie after devious lie.
But I understand her reasoning also.
To protect my people, I too would do whatever's necessary. Even if it meant lying, stealing priceless warden maps dating back to the fourth blight, assuming a false identity, and roping in a bunch of helpful randoms to hopefully manipulate, and forever keep none the wiser.
I sigh and lower my head, focusing in on my dirty boots, as we march down a grassy winding path at Tallis's lead.
Alright. Maybe I'm more upset about all this at this point than confused, stringing that mouthful together. Yet, despite it, I know I can't stay angry at Tallis. She came back to help us in the caves with Cahir, even when she didn't have to. That alone redeems herself a little bit in lieu of a severe blood debt. Plus, although a part of me hates it, I can't deny that I relate to her. The motivation to protect your own, and prove yourself to make up for any perceived shortcomings, are both driving forces. Ones that have led me to make many similar mistakes throughout the past . . .
Marethari's and Merrill's faces flicker through my head.
I shake my head, trying to dismiss them. The consequences of recent said mistakes not something I should revisit now, on mission.
Anders sighs off to my left, breaking my concentration on the struggle. "What is it with you and helping cute elves with no self-preservation instinct?" he jabs wearily, but with a playful side-eye at Hawke.
"That's what I've been thinking exactly!" Varric chimes in. "Why can't you ever make friends with anyone normal, Hawke?"
"Like attracts like it seems." He smiles over his shoulder at Anders, Varric, and me.
I snicker under my breath. The recognition shared.
Fenris rolls his eyes. "It's your decision, but I think we should leave." He continues his dour brooding, and watching him frown and clutch his fists so tight by his sides, I feel more torn again.
Seems like Hawke and I are the only ones who aren't entirely against this . . . The only one who hasn't voiced anything on the matter being Zevran.
I glimpse at him on my right.
He peeks over immediately, noticing me, and offers a warm, hearty smirk, a bit of playfulness twinkling in his calm, amber gaze. Ever the poker face very few can ever break, if there's any opinion on a subject to begin with. Which is often a hit or miss.
"This path should lead us back up to the chateau," Tallis interrupts our little exchange.
"And then what?" Hawke and the rest of us all focus on her.
"And then we stop Salit. Or the duke."
"And by stop you mean…"
"Leave that part to me," her voice lowers sullenly.
A grim answer, with a grim outcome yet to come.
But it's either that, we let the Duke pass Tallis's former mentor's information on to Orlais, inactively allowing the pointless massacre of countless innocents, or we step back and force Tallis to fight Salit and the Duke alone.
I think it's obvious which is the most logical option. However, it doesn't make me feel any less tense.
"Maybe you should join the Qun, Fenris! This could be the perfect opportunity!" Anders sneers at him with a shit-eating grin.
"We could go together! I'd be happy to sew your mouth shut." Fenris glowers back.
The two glare at each other. Renewed, imaginary sparks flying between them.
"Hmmm. One might think you are about to kiss, with the way you two bicker. Please, do not let us get in the way." Zevran wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at them.
Both of their jaws drop. Horror and disgust clear in their eyes as they whirl to gawk at Zevran.
Hawke, Varric, and I all burst into a fit of chuckles immediately at the sight. A response that grows louder and less controllable by the minute, escalated further when hearing and seeing each other laugh, amid the others ongoing shocked expressions.
Tears forming in my eyes from the good, unexpected crack up, I wipe my eyes and peek up to find Anders and Fenris both turning up their noses now, ignoring Zevran and the comment, as if neither ever existed. Zevran meanwhile walks tall and proud, smirking victoriously. His unprecedented win over them a one for the record books, proving he knows just how to handle them now, with cunning ease.
We reach a large, grassy clearing, and suddenly, all that warmth we gathered vanishes.
My nerves freeze, as if ice is poured into my veins. My ears twitch at the sound of approaching footsteps, stomping atop leaves and branches, beyond the trees to our right. Our whole group stops, thanks to a quick hand held up by Hawke.
Arlange walks out into sight down the associated hill, accompanied by six armed guards. "I knew you were worthless traitors the moment I laid eyes on you." He squints at us, with those weaselly brown eyes of his.
"Baron Arlange! So nice to see you again." Hawke gives him a lamentable shake of his head. The sarcasm in his voice no longer held back or hidden for political pleasantries.
"You filthy turnip!" He points at Hawke. "You and your knife-ears humiliated me!" He glares over at me and Zevran.
No, you did a fine job of that yourself.
That's what I would say, had I the energy to spare. But I've already been through one all-nighter and spent enough on this guy.
I'm tired, in more ways than one. With far too many other important things to think and worry about, after this disastrous yet equally successful, complicated trip of ours.
I just need to finish up here and get home, to rest and process it all. Away from this nonsense and its racist bigots.
"Zev, do what you like. He's all yours," I insist with a dismissive wave of my hand. My promise to him now officially upheld.
Zevran grins and twirls out his daggers, malice burning in his eager, bloodthirsty eyes. "With pleasure."
HAWKE
If I were asked what I thought going to a Duke's estate on a formal hunt would be like before today, I never would have imagined it would entail fighting so many ghasts, wyverns, or a ton of shirtless, painted, spear-wielding qunari.
But I suppose that's my fault.
Mother always did warn me to expect the unexpected whenever dealing with Orlesians. I just never imagined it could go to such extremes.
The eventful chataeu now looms overhead in the distance—Fenris, Anders, Varric, and I all huddled up behind one of its lower walls, bordering a stone overlook, where the cornered Duke and Salit are currently standing off against each other with their men.
Salit's a lot different from what I envisioned. Sporting a long, white, braided beard and ponytail, the likes I've never seen on a qunari, he wears a blue, knotted sash across his chest with a matching headdress tied around his horns. All of which makes him the most covered qunari here (excluding Tallis). Though, her presence at the moment remains a well-kept secret. Privy only to us.
I glimpse over at her presumed hiding space with Serena and Zevran, behind the Duke's forces. They should've scaled the wall over there by now and slipped into the shrubbery's shadows. But it's impossible to know for certain until they give us the signal. They're good at stealth tasks for a reason.
Salit stabs his dual swords into the ground and approaches the Duke. He hands out a rolled-up scroll to one of Prosper's men, who hurries to intercept him. The guard unravels it, skims over the text, then looks back at Prosper. "Names, Your Grace. It's . . . a list of names."
Prosper rushes forward to snatch the scroll away, and hurriedly reads over the contents. "What is the meaning of this?" He glares at Salit, his Orlesian accent thick on his tongue.
"You asked for a weapon. I am providing it," Salit responds.
"We expected the formula for blackpowder! Dreadnought plans, a map of Qunandar, anything! This … this is useless!" Prosper shakes the map at him.
A fragment of light flickers in our direction, beyond the yonder trees.
"That's the signal. Let's go." I wave to the others.
We walk out of hiding, onto the same overlook, at a calm, casual pace, as planned.
One of Prosper's guard's immediately looks over. "Your Grace!"
Prosper pivots toward us, his gaze narrowing with increased frustration. Something I take quite a bit of joy in, after all the trouble he's caused us today. Tallis knocks out a guard in back of their small formation and rips off his helmet, while Serena and Zev drag the unconscious lad into the bushes.
"Champion, I should have known you would turn up." Prosper hands the scroll back at the now disguised Tallis without looking.
It takes everything I have to keep a straight face and not laugh as he steps closer. "I have an excellent sense of dramatic timing. And good hair," I joke, praying to everything holy that I can keep it serious. Or at least convince him any slip up is merely part of my personality.
Prosper snorts. "Joke while you can. You will not find it funny for long."
Oh, I doubt it.
Tallis takes out Prosper's other guard, then, using a smoke bomb, flips back onto the nearby wall into a crouching position.
"Tallis." Salit scowls up at her.
"I said I would stop you, Salit," she spits back.
"And I said I would slay you, if you tried." Salit moves closer.
"If anyone is to do any slaying, it will be me!" Prosper draws a strange hand-held weapon from his belt and shoots a green goo straight at Salit's chest.
Salit stumbles back with a harsh groan then touches the liquid. Leopold's roar resounds to our left.
We all glance up. The beast leaps down from the closest wall, not far from Tallis, snatches Salit up in his mouth, and races off, crunching on him like a tasty snack, Salit yelling with his blood flying everywhere.
My eyes widen at the horrific sight.
The two gone in so much as a couple blinks.
"Kill them all!" Prosper shouts in the aftermath. He tucks the strange weapon in his belt and pulls out his sword. Every one of his men follow suit. Swords clash off to my side as I block Prosper's charging blade. "You should never have come here, Fereldan!" He breaks off and swings again.
Once more, I block him. But only barely. He's more of a skilled fighter than he looks. I suppose he's not a duke for nothing.
"There's no need for you to die here, Duke Prosper," I grit out, both of us struggling to hold each other off.
Prosper squints at me. "You have a lot of cheek, for an insolent, little wretch!"
He glimpses off to the side, turns his blade, and hops back in a flawless parry.
I glance in the direction he looked. Leopold's back on top of the nearby wall. He spits orange acid out in my direction.
With an instant gasp, I roll off to the side, dodging the blow by a hair's breadth, if that. It splatters into a steaming puddle across the adjacent stone and grass. Undoubtedly fatal had it hit me.
"I warned you about this wyvern, did I not?" Prosper sheaths his sword with a broad smirk. "My pet has such poor manners."
Prosper throws his head back in a wicked cackle.
Leopold spits acid my way once again.
I roll further off to the side, almost knocking into one of Prosper's other soldiers, who's just slain a qunari.
He looks down at me, blood dripping from his sword, while I'm still kneeling on the ground.
Andraste's mercy . . .
The two of us both hurry to swing our swords, my heart pounding, thudding in my ears. But before his sword can descend, and no doubt break through my wobbly defense, an arrow pierces through the back of his throat. His blade falls. His hands grasp at his spurting neck before his legs buckle, and he face plants next to me on the floor.
Panting, I stare in the direction the shot came.
Serena's shooting with a bow and arrows from beside the outskirting trees. She nods to me once, then goes back to shooting at other enemies across the field. Most have been slain by now, by qunari, chevalier, or our team alike. While all of our numbers remain intact, save for a few noticeable grazes on Fenris and Tallis. But Anders can quickly heal those up. So, I'm not worried.
What I am worried about is that wyvern venom.
If it hits us, no work of healing or necromancy magic can bring us back from that.
Leopold spits another round at me the second I think of it.
"Cursed bollocks!" I sprint out of the way, nearing Varric and Fenris.
Fenris peeks over his shoulder at me and Leopold. "Avoid the venom, but hit Prosper with everything you've got!" He phases forward at his current chevalier opponent, striking him down in a flash of blue light.
Another of their surrounding numbers races to strike Varric from the side. I hurry and block his blow, thrust him back fast to make him lose his balance, then stab him through the chest.
Leopold spits again at us from the wall. This time: at Fenris. Who's too focused on his recent enemy's corpse.
I tackle him out of the way, pushing us into a skid across the floor.
He grunts and quickly whirls around to glare at me, one phased arm raised, ready to bury itself in my chest. But eases, upon recognizing it's me.
Prosper scowls at us as we get back onto our feet. "I have more than one trick up my sleeve!" he shouts with a clap of his hand.
Leopold jumps down next to him, but wobbles on impact.
"Leopold? Leopold!" Prosper shakes his head at the wavering creature. "He's looking particularly sluggish today, blasted creature."
Anders snickers, as he, Tallis, and Varric near us. "Gave the beast a taste of his own poison, eh?" He readies a fireball spell.
"Tried to at least." I sigh.
"Every effort counts." Varric loads a new bolt.
Prosper glances around at all of us. The last of his men finally fallen. Along with the traitorous qunari.
"No more games! It is time!" he says.
Holding his chin up high, he quickly draws the strange weapon from before and shoots at me. The green goo from before smacks me in the side of the chest before I can even fully dodge.
Leopold roars. Prosper hops onto the saddle on his back.
"Hawke, run!" Fenris shouts, as both of them race toward me.
I hurtle out of the way, a breeze ruffling up my hair as they pass. Maker, his speed far outmatches the wyverns from before.
"Maybe we can get him to charge into the rocks!" Anders proposes, while they turn to face us again.
My focus darts around the bloody, corpse-ridden battleground, landing on the steep overlook. "I've got a better idea." I clench tighter onto my sword.
They whisk toward me again, the goop dripping off my chest. I hurry off to the side, closer to the edge of the overlook.
"Hawke, no!" Serena shouts, somewhere off to our right.
Prosper shoots the goo at me again, landing in about the same spot as before.
Leopold charges.
The two near, and I steady my stance, sword drawn, nerves tingling down into my soul.
They get within five feet, two, and I step off to the side. I slice Leopold's front leg as they whizz past. Leopold screeches as he and Prosper tumble off the edge, out of sight.
For a second, all I can hear is my panting. All I can feel is sweat dripping down my forehead, the cool mountain air chilling it, tingling the underlying skin as it plops onto my nose and cheeks.
Did that . . . Did that really just happen?
I stand up straighter, in a daze.
Did my hap-hazard plan actually work?
I stare back behind me at the overlook, its emptiness undeniable. But surprising.
Maker . . . That was close.
I huff and turn to approach the edge, half of me feeling like I need to see they're gone for good first, before I can truly believe it or relax.
As I near the drop-off, I spy a handful of gloved fingers, grasping onto the last bit of stone. And what do you know? It's Duke Prosper, dangling off the ledge.
"Keep away from me!" He shouts, swinging for dear life. "The empress will hear of this! Orlais will burn Kirkwall to the ground! All of you will die screaming! I swear it!"
The others gather around behind me to join me in the unfortunate sight.
"I would have tried begging for mercy, but that's just me." I spin on my heels and walk away.
"You . . . blasted . . . turnip!" Prosper yells.
"Thank you for the lovely party. I'll treasure the belt." I pat the equipped item around my waist, admiring the craftmanship of the swirling embossed metals.
Next thing I know, there's a loud scream.
A handful of thuds follow down below, quickly ending in silence.
"They never learn." Fenris shakes his head, as I peek back at them.
"Looks like the duke," I smirk and face forward again, "has fallen from grace."
FENRIS
It has been a long day.
Far more so than I anticipated, when I first agreed to Hawke and Zevran's ridiculous scheme.
Our campfire now crackles before me in the darkness, wavering in a bitter, mountain breeze. Battered down constantly by the night's incessant wind. A great metaphor for how we all are feeling, after overcoming the day's repetitive adversities.
The others have already turned in, shortly after we set up camp and parted ways with the qunari rogue, Tallis. It is an envious position to be in. One I would like to be in myself. But I have the unfortunate task of first watch.
I doubt I would be able to sleep anyways, given the chance. There is much to process from this little misadventure of ours. The cuts and bruises I have earned from our last battle being the least concerning.
Light footsteps exit one of the tents behind me while I glance at one said cut on my bicep, the sudden intrusion in the silence making me flinch.
"Well, they're all out." Serena plops down on the log I'm sitting on with a loud, relaxed sigh. "I wouldn't call our accommodations for the night an upgrade from our prior lodgings. But I am glad there's no more nobles around. The lack of attacking chevaliers and wyverns is another bonus."
She grins at me mischievously, and I smile and lower my head. "I apologize for allowing the others to convince me into bringing you here. I did not expect for things to get so . . . messy." I furrow my brow at the less than ideal word choice.
"It's not like you could've predicted what would happen. And besides, despite everyone's pushiness, I agreed to come of my own volition, didn't I?" She nudges me with one arm, then leans forward to prop both elbows on her knees.
She stares out at the fire. Her joking expression softens, becoming serious, though not grim.
"I also needed the wake up call," she says. "Sitting around, doing nothing all day, wasn't doing anything productive for me back at the mansion. Except driving all of you insane . . . Leave it to life threatening situations to help me see the light." She giggles at the last, hearty quip.
Her typical cheerfulness: welcome. Exactly what we had been hoping for. But I cannot help but press my lips tight together at its cost.
I recall every dangerous encounter she fell in today due to our selfish prying.
The wyverns. The ghasts. Qunari.
And most notably: her capture at the hands of the Duke.
"You . . . frightened me," I whisper, clenching my fists, my body reliving that fear, when we could not find her in the chateau or the dungeons—the imaginings of her at the Duke's mercy repeating in my mind. Only slightly off from the reality, that transpired in that audience chamber.
"Me?" Serena pivots more in my direction.
I pause and grab her by the hand. "Before we found you, there was a moment when I . . ."
I gulp.
The nightmarish images replay the worst of conclusions. This time not sparing her blood.
"Don't do that again."
Serena lifts her free hand to my cheek, her soft touch eliciting heated, electrical currents across my skin. "I promise I'll try not to." She peers deep into my eyes and rests her forehead against my own.
We both close our eyes. The air around us fills with the quiet sound of our breathing.
"Thank you, for looking out for me," she whispers, and I look at her again. "I . . . know it took awhile, and a lot of effort, but . . . From this experience, I've realized. Although it hurts, I have to keep moving forward. The Keeper, she . . . would want that, and I can't just brood around at the mansion all the time, yes?"
She smirks at me, the tease back in her gaze and voice.
I lift my free hand to lightly cup her cheek. "It is always good to be by your side, in any form," I insist.
With that, I pull her by the back of her neck, and press my lips against her own. Lightning fills my veins, spreading to every inch of my limbs. A pleasant warmth envelops me to my core.
The two of us separate, and I smile at the slight blush blooming across Serena's cheeks. She hurriedly lowers herself and lays her head against my shoulder.
The fire cracks before us, sending a pop of embers, high into the sky. Their sparks dissipate in a flash, fading into the quiet still of another beginning night.
