CHAPTER 4

..x..

Author's Note:

Hi guys. I'm sorry I had to re-edit Ch1... Nothing in it changed, however, so it's not like you need to re-read it. Just an FYI. I was just reading it to my husband last night and noticed some errors I missed. I realized it was because I didn't run it through the tool I'm using to spot spelling issues before posting it. I also didn't notice the repeated words I saw.

Anyway! A slight warning for a bit of adult content further down, nothing too drastic, but just in case. :) Cheers!

They were traveling south through the Brecilian Forest, a large expanse of traitorous woods in the east and where the Dalish elf caravan was last spotted. The leaves and branches above them formed a thick canopy, allowing only minimal light to shower over the forest floor and shrouding everything else in shadows. It reminded Everil much of the Korcari Wilds, sans the swampy waters, the murky scent of mud, and the rot darkspawn left in their wake. At least the forest smelled of pine and the occasional wildflowers. Though this side of Ferelden wasn't as beautiful as the fertile lands of the Hinterlands.

Everil cast worried eyes over her fellow Warden, who was riding just a few steps ahead of her. He'd been silent since before their departure from Denerim that morning, keeping to himself or staring off into space whenever she tried to speak with him. And she had the clear notion that the reason behind the change in his behavior was the elf now traveling with them upon her decision to let him join.

Her chest constricted at the sudden lack of communication between them. She'd been thinking of what was best for them at the time. And although she was trying to make amends with him somehow, Zevran was not making her efforts any easier.

"Is your friend sick or something?" asked the aforementioned assassin as he approached her. He was riding the horse once belonging to Leliana, while she and Wynne now shared a ride to accommodate the additional body in their group.

She sighed, eyeing Alistair's back as he led the way. "No... I'm sure he's fine."

"Truly?" Zevran raised a doubtful eyebrow at her. "He has been moping about for quite a while now. Perhaps he should consider returning to The Pearl and lay with one of their lovely ladies."

Alistair glanced over his shoulder, shooting him a warning glare. "I can hear you, you know…"

"I am only making an honest suggestion, my friend—one that has worked for me many times before. After all, there is no better activity to relieve stress than a long night of hot, passionate sex."

"Oh, Maker help me…" Alistair groaned miserably, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Why ask for His help when I could tell you all you need to know to relieve yourself?" He boasted with a hand on his hip while proudly riding his horse. "The ladies in Antiva love me. I even have quite a reputation. I could tell you about parts of the female body you've never heard could be used to pleasure them into oblivion. Whatever you've done to a woman before would not compare. I can even teach you positions that will bring both you and the lucky girl into nothing short of ecstasy."

"No, thanks…" Alistair grumbled while a blushing Everil stared at the elf as if he'd grown a second head.

"Very well, your loss... But I think you should consider my advice. You will feel much better afterward, I assure you." Zevran sent her a seductive grin and winked at her. At which she smiled awkwardly and looked away, trying not to give the man any ideas.

They found a small body of water for the horses after a few more hours of riding. And Everil took the opportunity for them to set up camp for the night, deciding it was best not to risk exploring further in the dark. There was still no trace of the Dalish elves and their caravan, but they would resume the search in the morning.

Her hammer hit the last of her tent's stakes and Everil stood, wiping her brow before gazing around the clearing. Morrigan was off on her own again, reading her mother's grimoire by her personal campfire. Sten was also a distance away while the rest of her companions sat closer to a much larger fire in the middle of the camp. Their horses were grazing nearby, foraging the ground for roots and bits of grass. Movement off to the side had her turn her head to see Alistair step out from his tent and trudge towards the heat of the fire while staring at his feet. He took a seat on the ground beside it and propped an arm up on one leg, then his shoulders rose and fell in a visible huff.

Yep… Still upset... She hopelessly shook her head and made her way to him, her hound following closely. A sigh escaped her as she sat to his left, sensing the awkwardness in the atmosphere. "All right, what's wrong?" She turned to him, whispering so only he could hear. "Why have you been so quiet lately?"

Alistair didn't look at her. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Oh, please… That there is the longest you have spoken to me since before we left Denerim. You nearly remind me of Sten, with all the grunting and the one-word responses."

He cast his eyes down, still avoiding her. "It's nothing. It's just been a long couple of days and I'm tired."

"We've had long days from the very beginning, Alistair. Yet you've never acted this way towards me before."

"Look…" He inhaled deeply through the nose, responding in an even voice. "All right... I'm the problem and I don't know how to deal with it right now. So just... leave me be."

"I know it's because of Zevran," she probed further, her whispers more insistent. "Because I let him join us and you're still unhappy over me making that decision for us."

"Please stop..."

"No." She frowned with concern. "I need you to speak to me. You can't expect me to stop when you continue to ignore me and refuse to―"

"Fine!" Alistair hissed at her with a glare he'd never directed at her before. "What do you want me to say? Shall I comment on how amusing it is to listen to your new friend's sexual commentary? Or perhaps I should tell you just how wonderful it is to watch him leer over you like a mabari drools over a piece of meat."

Everil stared in shock at his outburst and she blinked a few times, realization dawning on her. "Wait… You're jealous?"

"I'm not jealous!" he loudly and vehemently protested, receiving curious looks from those around them. Deflating under their stares, he huffed stubbornly and attempted to ignore them, blushing madly whilst turning away from her. "I just… I can't stand him..."

An amused chuckle disrupted their quiet bickering, the abruptness of it earning her another glare from him. "I'm glad you find this so funny…" he grumbled bashfully, pursing his lips like a child.

"No, I don't think it's funny... I find it endearing."

"Endearing?" Alistair shot her a bewildered look, whispering again. "What about my being upset is endearing?"

"It's endearing because you don't want to share me with anyone..." She seductively leaned in, boldly placing a hand on his thigh. "You want to keep me all to yourself, don't you? To claim me as your own so that no man can have me but you."

His jaw dropped and his brain malfunctioned, failing to formulate a competent comeback. "I… Uhm… I…"

"Yes?" Everil tilted her head, waiting patiently for him to form some sort of sentence structure. She watched him open and close his mouth like a fish, her smile never fading.

Groaning, Alistair ran a hand down his face, slightly aroused, embarrassed, and increasingly frustrated. "All right, that's it! We need to talk!" He grabbed her hand and got on his feet, pulling her up with him. Bjorn rose to follow, but Alistair halted him. "You stay here, boy." The hound tilted his head but obeyed, watching him take her away with him. She followed without protest, also wondering what came over him.

A curious Zevran looked on from his sitting position a short distance away, seeing their retreating forms before they disappeared behind the privacy of the trees. He cast a questioning glance towards Leliana, who simply smirked at him and quietly nodded her head.

"Oh…" His gaze dropped to the ground and he chuckled, scratching his cheek with one finger. "Well, that explains a lot..."

.x.x.x.x.

They trekked through the brush until they reached the creek outside of camp, the sound of rolling water greeting them. Gentle moonlight illuminated the narrow clearing, filtering through in white and blue beams that bathed everything they touched. A faint, yellow glow flickered against the bushes, originating from their campfire a distance away. Now that they were alone, Alistair turned to face her. For a few seconds, he didn't speak, instead seemingly pausing to look over her features.

Uncertainty furrowed her brow, his piercing stare nearly stealing her breath away. "Al—"

"You don't get it, do you?" A hand gently cupped her cheek, his touch effectively silencing her as he stepped closer. He intently gazed upon her, the earlier resentment vanishing and giving way to tenderness. "I was so terrified… So desperate when they took you… I… I've never felt that way before."

His words caused her heart to skip a beat and then warmth filled her. She hadn't realized just how much he really cared about her, even after hearing him say it days before. Everil bit her lip guiltily at having put him through so much, but before she could say anything, he continued to speak.

"And then…" Alistair swallowed as if struggling with the memory. "When I walked in on him all over you… I just… lost it…" He let out a breath and shook his head. "Every time I see him look at you it reminds me of how I couldn't protect you from them and how much worse things couldn't have turned out had he not decided to let you go. I just can't help hating him and hating myself over everything. So I've been trying to deal with it ever since we left Denerim."

Everil inwardly kicked herself for not having thought of it this way before. Of course he'd be this unhappy about the assassin tagging along. Not only were they separated by the Crows, but Zevran's original intention had been to kill them. A deed he would have followed through on, had he not failed to begin with. Now, after all he'd done, he was traveling with them as if nothing happened. With little to no punishment, aside from the slap she gave him.

But despite it all, they needed him for something greater than them. A task that was more important than how they felt about their uncomfortable situation. Everil looked to the ground, feeling a hint of shame at having to defend the indefensible. "I understand how you feel, Alistair… But… Well… We do need—"

"I know," he interrupted, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. A deep breath escaped him. "I know we need help, regardless of where it comes from or how I feel about it… It's the Grey Warden way. I just need some time to get over it, is all."

"I'm sorry…"

"No, I…" Alistair cleared his throat, shyly wrapping his arms around her waist while hers slid over his shoulders. "I'm the one who's sorry… for having acted so foolishly towards you." He pouted a little, giving her his best impression of her hound's begging eyes. "Would you ever forgive me?"

"Hmm…" Everil put on a flirtatious smirk. "That depends…"

He gulped, shuddering slightly at the look she was giving him. "On what, exactly…?"

"On you kissing me…"

A deep chuckle escaped him as he leaned ever so closer, his nose nearly touching hers. "You have a deal…" Then his lips sealed hers and the stress from the prior days seemed to fade slowly as she melted into his arms, searching for his refuge. She ached for more of it, to grab onto him and never let go. To taste him and find the peace they craved as she sought to deepen the kiss.

Alistair gladly allowed her entrance into his mouth while also invading hers, releasing a pleased sigh. Tongues danced in steadier rhythm than before, warm breaths intertwining in the cool air of the forest. Surrounded by the wilderness, they let the quiet fool them into thinking themselves alone. All the while ignoring the presence of those just past the wall of trees and brush bordering their camp.

A content sound reached his ears when he held her tighter, reveling on the way her curves felt against him. The melody of her breaths and quiet whimpers drowned away his thoughts, causing his pulse to quicken as his urges overtook the nerves. He continued to freely explore her mouth, releasing a heavy breath as his now daring hands slid to the small of her back. Itching to descend even further and cup that well-rounded rear of hers.

Raw need drove him as he kissed her more fervently, drawing a whimper out of her when his teeth grazed her bottom lip. He heard her moan as her fingers laced through his hair, chipping away at his self-control. Then in a blur of passion, he pinned her to a nearby tree, her back to the trunk as his strong body pressed against her own.

A muffled moan escaped her and she felt him grind against her, their armor frustratingly keeping their bodies apart. The way he devoured her lips took her breath away, suffocating her, and forcing her to open her mouth into a gasp. But instead of moving away, his lips strayed, leaving a hot trail of moist kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his boldness earning him a needy groan.

He smiled inwardly upon hearing her, the desire to please her and hear more of her urging him on. Large hands slid to her hips as his tongue and teeth stroked the tender spot right under her ear, causing her to whine and quiver. The pressure that built up in his crotch quickly became almost unbearable and his instincts ran amok, seeking her and only her. It would only take a few moments to tear off her armor, to spread her legs, and to take her against this very tree. To make her his and pleasure her until they were finally satisfied.

"Alistair…" she whimpered feebly, his hot breath and firm grip setting her blood on fire.

He froze, the sound of his name snapping him out of his feverish longing. And he panted for breath, standing as still as his shaking body allowed, as the bulge in his trousers pressed uncomfortably to the cold steel of his armor. While Everil bit her lip, waiting for him, her body begging for more. "I... We shouldn't," he huffed into the crook of her neck.

Gentle hands slid down to rest upon his heaving chest, her voice filled with disappointment. "But… Why not...?"

"Because…" he gulped and pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his trembling hand coming to gently stroke her hair. "Because I want things to be certain between us first... I want us to know for sure what we're feeling for each other. To show you that you're not just any woman to me."

"All right…" She whispered breathlessly, leaning into his touch. "I… I guess I understand…"

"Thank you..." Alistair grasped her hands as if touching her were, ironically, his only lifeline back to reality. He kissed the top of her gloved fingers, his eyes never leaving hers. Everil could only smile, lost in those amber pools, numb to the rest of the world and to their troubles.

They looked at one another for a long moment, trying to calm their racing hearts, hesitating to move or speak as if doing so would disrupt their spell. "Now…" Alistair's soft voice broke the silence first, giving her a small smile, breathing deeply. "What do you say we… go back to camp… before the others think we actually—" He cleared his throat. "—went through with it?"

"Would you care if they did…?" she asked softly, gazing at him through her lashes.

"Heh… I guess I wouldn't..." he muttered, leading her back towards the camp, a hand still holding hers. A smirk spread over his face and he sent her a glance over the shoulder. "Especially the elf…"

Everil chuckled, her heart soaring as she let him guide her back through the trees.

.x.x.x.x.

The group went deeper into the woods, following the traces of wagon wheels over the soil. After a while, ruins began to appear from under the foliage, tall white spires and statues from a time when the Tevinter Imperium ruled over the lands. The galloping of their horses was the only sound, their focus being the search for the wandering elves and staying alert for any trouble that may be hiding in the brush. The faint rustle of the leaves kept them on edge as shifting shadows were cast over the landscape. Their surroundings then darkened, the thickening of the canopy keeping as much light out as possible.

Everil sighed tiredly. It had been more than half a day since they set out again and still no trace other than the quickly fading grooves the elven land ships left behind. "Maybe they moved somewhere else?" she impatiently told her fellow Warden, who was riding next to her.

"No, the only other place in Ferelden they could possibly be is in the deep south. And I'm pretty sure they already know about the Blight."

"They used to visit the Korcari Wilds from time to time. Their last visit was nearly thirty years ago. Or so my mother said," Morrigan added from behind them. "Flemeth taught me much about their culture… And, let me tell you, that even though we have yet to see them, I am certain they already know we are here."

Everil looked over her shoulder at the witch. "You think they're watching us?"

She nodded. "They probably have been from the moment we stepped into the forest."

"Oh… Truly?" She felt her face warm up and looked away, acting casual in spite of her embarrassment. If that's true, then Alistair and I probably gave them a bit of a show last night… He didn't seem to realize that as she did, however, instead absently looking around.

"The Dalish are both reclusive and distrustful. They will defend their clan against anything and anyone they perceive as a threat to their people, and with good reason," Morrigan said, disgust etched over her features. "First, the Tevinter Imperium enslaves them for centuries, destroying their culture and taking over their home in the Dales. Then, after the supposed prophetess Andraste helps set them free, the Chantry itself nearly wipes them out centuries after, all due to differences in their beliefs."

"Ah… Yes, I remember learning about that," Everil muttered uncomfortably. Her family had once been devout Andrastians, loyal to the Chantry. But just as with anything else they believed in, she had her questions.

The grand majority of Fereldans followed the Andrastian faith and its teachings, making it difficult for nobility to go against the Chantry without some sort of backlash. Their influence gave them nearly as much power as the crown, and far more leverage to oppress people across the land without repercussions. It was something she didn't agree with, especially after seeing it first hand at the Circle of Magi.

"Did Flemeth ever give you advice on how to speak with the Dalish?" Everil inquired solemnly.

Morrigan dipped her head with a stern look of her own. "Despite their ever so cautious nature, they will openly welcome any relationship that will benefit their clan as a whole. Be honest, avoid disrespecting their traditions, and offer something in exchange for their support. Doing this will no doubt earn you their trust."

"A trust I wouldn't want to betray, I take it." Everil frowned, suddenly feeling as if they were being watched.

"Indeed..." Morrigan smirked, completely agreeing with her.

Moments passed as much larger structures of stone emerged around them, like a long-forgotten city, covered in greenery. Silence stretched for what felt like hours, the sounds of the forest filling the air. But the quiet peace was deceiving, for the brush around them suddenly moved and changed shapes. An arrow whistled by Everil's ear, hitting a tree somewhere behind her. It was followed by more arrows that zoomed past them, somehow missing them as their horses whined and backed up in fear. "Ambush!" she cried out to her party as they swiftly dismounted. They all ran for the nearest cover, ducking behind bushes and hiding behind trees while more arrows were fired.

"Hold your fire!" Everil shouted from behind a tree she shared with Leliana. "We're not here for trouble!" A hollow snap was heard, telling her another arrow hit the bark near her head.

"Quiet, shem!" yelled a female voice. "You will not go near our camp without leave!"

Another arrow flew past their tree, hitting the one closest to them.

"Fine! We seek leave to speak with your clan, please! It's regarding a matter that affects all of us!"

There was a brief pause.

"State your business!"

Everil ran her tongue over her lips, knowing they were surrounded. By what Morrigan said, they controlled the forest, so they could have killed them already if they so wanted. "We're Grey Wardens," she declared firmly. "And we seek the help of the Dalish to fight the Blight."

"Lies! The Grey Wardens of Ferelden are no more!"

Frustrated, Everil reached into her bag and pulled out the old scroll, unrolling it before her. A seal of a tree was drawn over it, still clearly visible in spite of its old age. She drew in a breath, summoning her courage, and then emerged from behind the tree, hands raised while one held the scroll. "That's not true! Two of us yet live!" Everil announced, lifting the scroll for them to see. "See for yourself!"

There was another pause, long and nail-biting. And slowly, the elves began to emerge from the shadows all around them, letting themselves be seen while blocking every possible exit. They wore the same colors of the forest on their tunics and leather gear, allowing them to blend in with the woods as if by magic. All wore swirling marks over their faces, trademark tattoos worn by the Dalish elves alone. They possessed the same physique as Zevran, small and slender when compared to a human's figure, but their features were slightly different.

The only female elf broke out from the ranks of men and stiffly approached her. She was a young woman—maybe a few years younger than herself—with short, brown hair framing her sunken cheeks and disproportionately large green eyes. She gave Everil a once over, eyeing the griffon on her breastplate. "I am called Mithra. Did they lower the standards in your order, Warden?"

"I'm Everil and the darkspawn horde is killing everything in its wake as we speak. So please just take us to your Keeper," she replied calmly, hiding her irritation at the insult to keep the peace.

The elf lifted her pointed chin, looking down her nose at the other woman before turning to her men. "Scout ahead. I will lead the shem to camp."

With a bow of their heads, the elven males spread out, blending into the woods once more. The girl motioned for them to follow, then Everil and the others took hold of their horses' reins and walked behind her on foot. She obviously didn't trust them, to the point where she was constantly looking over her shoulder as they trekked through the woods.

Alistair glanced worriedly to Everil, whispering to her while observing the elf. "I hope the others aren't this friendly... I mean, can you imagine?"

"I heard that." The elf shot him a glare as they walked. He raised both hands in defense, putting on an apologetic smile that earned him another distrustful glower.

A low growl coming from somewhere ahead made their guide freeze on the spot, her hands flying to the daggers on her back. "No…" Mithra breathed out. And before any of them could ask what was wrong, an agonizing scream cut through the silence, filling their ears with its terror. The female elf was moving now, leaving their group behind.

"Wait!" Everil called, then with a click of her tongue, glanced at her companions. "Morrigan and Sten come with us. The rest protect the horses." They ran after her as the others stayed put, all drawing their weapons at her command. She and her chosen party rushed through bushes and hopped over roots, trying to catch up with the sprinting elf. Until a blur of muscle and fur leaped out from the trees, landing before them like a gust of wind, kicking dirt and leaves under its claws. Everyone halted in their tracks, the elf nearly falling back on her rear before screaming in terror.

Everil's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she took in its horrifying appearance. It was a monstrous wolf-like creature, standing on two legs, with the body and posture of a man. It took a heavy step towards them and let out a vicious roar, bloodstained canines dripping with drool and gore as its murderous glare fell over the petrified elf. It lifted its arm, talons ready to slash and tear at the woman's stunned form.

Finally snapping out of her own shock, Everil found her movement and rushed in to stand between them, raising her sword. She blocked its attack and gritted her teeth under the force, her gaze locked with that of the beast.

It roared again as it struck with the other arm, while Everil leaned back just in time, sparks flying when its claws scrapped her breastplate. Letting out a grunt, she quickly swung in an arch and slashed at its chest, its blood splattering the bush beside it and staining it red. The wolf let out an ear-piercing howl of pain, staggering away from them. Wounded and enraged, it looked past the Warden directly at the still shaken elf behind her. It snarled at them, then whirled around, disappearing into the woods once more.

Mithra stumbled back as Everil cast her gaze upon her.

"They got them... They got my party," she muttered shakily, pale and quivering.

"Everil…"

She turned to Alistair as he looked towards the foliage, sword in hand. From the dark shadows, multiple pairs of glowing eyes stared back at them, surrounding them in much the same way the elves had before. Low growls resonated from them like an omen, then abruptly ceased when the eyes blinked away and disappeared. She pressed her lips into a thin line, a terrible feeling sinking in.