This chapter is a shout out to ImagineBagginsDragon! Love ya, gurl!
That being said, this chapter isn't that long. Lots of fluffiness, not a lot of progress.
Alistair
The Dalish have allowed them to camp just outside the forest, and Alistair is rather glad that Avina has decided to do that instead of camping with them. For reasons.
His palms sweat all through dinner, and he has to walk in a circle for a while to get up his nerve.
He watches her as she presents a box to Sten, which he opens cautiously before looking stunned. Avina smiles up at the giant, saying something Alistair can't hear, and Sten bows his head in thanks.
And then she's walking right over to him, so he swallows and clears his throat. "All right. I guess I really don't know how to ask you this." At least his voice doesn't shake; yay him.
"Are you sweating?" she asks, tilting her head in concern.
Her comment only makes it worse. "No! I mean yes. I mean... I'm a little nervous, sure. Not that this is anything bad or frightening or... well, yes." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "Oh, how do I say this? You'd think it would be easier, but every time I'm around you, I feel as if my head's about to explode. I - I can't think straight."
She frowns slightly. "I'm sorry."
"I don't mean it like that," he exclaims. "I mean... ugh! All right, let me start over." Brilliant start, he berates himself. What did Daylen say about women? Say something sappy?
'Be honest,' his memory supplies helpfully. 'That should work for you.'
It's worth a shot.
"Here's the thing: being near you makes me crazy, but I can't imagine being without you. Not ever. I don't know how to say this another way; I want to spend the night with you. Here, in the camp. Maybe this is too fast, I don't know, but... I know what I feel."
She blinks, her cheeks flushing. "You want to... with me? Now? Are you sure?"
"I wanted to wait for the perfect time, the perfect place... but when will it be perfect? If things were, we wouldn't even have met. We sort of... stumbled into each other, and despite this this being the least perfect time, I still found myself falling for you in between all the fighting and everything. I really don't want to wait anymore. I've... I've never done this before. You know that. I want it to be with you... while we have the chance. In case..."
She throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, preventing him from saying anything more.
Well, he thinks as he stumbles for a moment in surprise before regaining his footing. That's the end of that conversation.
Zevran
"And there you have it," Zevran says from across the camp as he watches the amourous couple disappear into Alistair's tent.
Sten doesn't look impressed, merely returning to caring for his armor.
Zevran rubs his hands together. "Excellent. Leliana owes me a sovereign."
Alistair
When he wakes, he feels the weight of something soft and warm draped over his chest. His blanket isn't this heavy, he knows. Confused, he glances down at his body, only to see her.
Her hair is unbound and wavy, flowing over her shoulder, her cheek resting over his heart. Her slim arms are wrapped around him and he's immediately distracted by the smoothness of her pale back. Sometime during the night, the blanket must have slipped down to her waist, baring her upper half.
Throught the crack in the flaps of the tent, the firelight glints off her peaceful face and she sighs in her sleep, her breath tickling the hairs on his chest.
She's never looked more beautiful.
His heartbeat must have changed when he woke because she starts to stir, her chest expanding, pressing her soft breasts more firmly to him and he can feel desire start to curl in the pit of his stomache.
Her face scrunches slightly and she finally opens her eyes, blinking slowly. She gives a hum of contentment and retracts her arms, rising to stretch, when she notices Alistair is awake.
She smiles shyly, her hair covering most of the upper half of her body. "Hello," she says quietly, her cheeks tinging pink as she notes their lack of attire.
He smiles back, propping himself up on an elbow and tucking her hair behind her ear. "You know, according to all the sisters at the monastery, I should have been struck by lightning by now."
She laughs. "That so?"
"Yep. Lightning first, then the end of civilization as we know it. I am a bad, bad man." He leers at her and she smacks his chest playfully. "You know the rest of our little party here is going to talk, right? They do that."
She sniffs, amusement in her eyes as she crosses her arms. "First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn."
"See?" he laughs. "This is why I love you. So, what now? Where do we go from here?"
She sighs, sliding back down on top of him so that they're face to face. "I don't know," she admits. "I only hope we stay together. And live. Those two things would be good."
"I think I can handle that," he muses. "Ah, before we go, have I told you that I love you? I did? Well, it won't kill you to hear it again, will it?"
She smiles again, leaning in to kiss him softly. "I love you, too," she murmurs tenderly.
He kisses her back. "See? Was that so hard?"
Her eyes twinkle. "Not even a little."
Afterward, when Avina returns to her own tent, he tries to dress. But there's a problem.
He can't find his shirt.
He knows he took it off before he went to sleep, but he can't remember what he did with it. Or what Avina did with it.
And it's his only clean shirt!
He hurries over to Avina's tent and peeks inside to ask her. "Have you seen my -"
Oh. Well that explains it.
She turns to face him, an eyebrow slanted in question, her lips curved into a devious smirk. Her hair is still down, flowing over the shirt that is much too large for her.
"You sneaky little thief," he accuses. "You stole my shirt!"
She crosses her arms, grinning. "Have you ever tried putting on robes? It's difficult. Besides, you weren't using it."
"You'd better give it back," he warns her. "Or I'll be forced to resort to drastic measures."
Her eyes widen in mock fear. "Drastic measures? Oh, my! Whatever shall I do?"
"Give me back my shirt," he suggests.
She just sticks out her tongue. "Nope."
"That's it," he says, ducking into the tent.
"What are you - Eek!"
He jumps on her, tickling her mercilessly on her ribs and belly. She squeals, trying to escape, but he's stronger than her. She laughs and laughs until tears are streaming down her cheeks.
He manages to get his hands under the shirt as she squirms and laughs in his grasp.
"That's cheating!" She manages to cry out breathlessly.
He grins evilly, wiggling his fingers and sending her into another laughing fit. "Is it?" He says innocently. He stops tickling her, leaving his hands resting on her sides. She's still giggling, her cheeks red and her hair disheveled. Slowly, she calms down.
Then her fingers are curling in his hair and pulling his head down to hers. He's so surprised that she manages to roll them over so she's on top.
"That's cheating," he protests weakly.
"You're right," she says, pretending to be regretful. "I'm sorry. I'll give you back your shirt."
"Thank-! Oh, now that's really cheating."
Morrigan
Morrigan wrings her hands by the fire.
She'd like to think it was becaue her hands were cold, but really, she was worrying.
She'd been alone in the camp for a long time now. Or maybe it just feels that way because she's alone.
Daylen is facing Flemeth right now, she knows. He, Shale, Leliana, and Wynne went to face her, leaving Morrigan behind as she requested.
She wishes she could be there. Not only does she want to see her mother die, to be certain that she is dead, but she's scared.
For him.
And this is intolerable.
She knew when she joined him that she had a very specific mission ahead of her. One she was now more adamant than ever that she succeed.
But it should be easy. Men are foolish creatures. They often care about only two things: money and women. And Morrigan had been at peace with that.
But Daylen is smart, and skilled, and witty, and everything that she didn't know she wanted. And that's the problem!
She shouldn't want him! She's already slept with him; any infatuation on her part should have faded after that, right?
If anything, it has only grown stronger.
If only he would stop doing the things that made it obvious how he felt about her. Like tucking her hair behind her ear, holding her through the night, giving her finery of silver and gold. He always compliments her intelligence, and how practical she is. He never lets her forget how beautiful she is, and after every battle he makes sure she is alright first.
It's ridiculous.
And it drives her mad that she likes it!
She trusts his abilities, but Mother...
They do not return for the longest time.
But at last, the group returns, battered and bloody and miserable. Shale looks as if she's missing a few of her crystals. Leliana's arm is in a bandage. Wynne's hair is loose and frizzy. And Daylen...
There's a gash along the front of his robes, though the skin beneath it seems to be fine. Blood drip down his temple as if he'd struck his head.
He smiles when he sees her, and he marches right up to her to give her what he's been holding in his arms - Mother's true grimoire.
"You found Mother's grimoire," she breathes, hugging the book to her chest. "I'm glad you were able to find it. My thanks for retrieving it."
He flashes his arrogant grin. "Anything for you, my lady."
"I will begin studying it immediately and unlock the power that it holds."
He nods. "Now that she is dead, what now?"
"Now I have enough time to study Mother's grimoire to find a way to prevent her from stealing my body in the future. For she will be back. One day. I have no doubt of that. And if I cannot protect myself, one day I will track her down again in whatever body she inhabits... and she will die again. And again, if need be. But there is no need to think of such things now. I have you to thank for saving me, so let us... return to the task of dealing with the darkspawn, no?"
"I've killed her once already," Daylen reminds her. "If you cannot protect yourself, I always will. I will never let her, or anyone else, take you." His voice is firm, sure.
"I..." for a moment, she does not know how to respond. "You should not be so... you have no idea what will happen in days to come, to make such promises. Let us... go. There is much to be done before... there is still much to be done."
But his words yet eat at her as she lays in his arms that night, trying to find sleep.
Restlessly, she turns in his arms to face him. Slowly, his dark eyes open to look at her.
"I wish to ask a question of you," she states.
His lips quirk. "Very well, go ahead."
"I wish to know your opinion of 'love'."
He raises an eyebrow. "This is what you wish to know?"
"Yes, 'Tis a valid question," she says defensively. "You and I have been intimate, for one. We have been... close... for some time now. You are... impressive... in many ways, and you even protected me from Flemeth without hope of reward. I feel anxious when I look upon you," she admits quietly. "I dislike this sense of dependency. 'Tis a weakness I abhor. If this is 'love' I wish to ascertain that you do not feel the same."
He smirks. "And if I do love you?"
"Then we are both fools, and we need to do something immediately! I have allowed myself to become... too close. This is a weakness, for us both."
"I don't think so," he murmurs, stroking her back.
"You are not listening to me. Do not be such a fool! This is for your own good. I would not... I am not like other women. I am not worth your distraction. And you... are not worth mine."
It might not be true, but she has to believe it.
"You're worth my distraction," he disagrees.
"I... you are impossible. Have it your way," she gives up. "But I will tell you truly now: You will regret it in the end."
"Possibly," he chuckles. "But some things are worth the risk."
Zevran
Their group wanders aimlessly through the forest, the chill and threat of werewolves keeping their pace swift. They have gone in several circles already; time could be running out for whatever Dalish hunters remain.
Zevran grins slyly over at Alistair. "So, you finally wooed, then?"
Alistair flushes. "I think that's private."
"Of course, of course," Zevran agrees. "But, do tell me, I am curious... I heard a rumor about mages, and what they wear under their robes..."
Avina's head jerks back toward them. "If you're curious, you could just ask Wynne," she says wryly.
"I did," he protests. "And the only way that I know I could get the truth is if someone checks."
"Go woo your own Circle mage then," Avina sniffs.
Zevran laughs. "Very well, then."
Sten rolls his eyes.
Sten
This warden is most confounding.
A female elven saarebas, roaming free and fighting with skill Sten has only seen in his brothers.
He no longer doubts that she is a woman, but it is still strange.
In Parvollen, the saarebas have their tongues cut out with chains put upon them to protect them and others from magic. They are rarely used, usually only during war or when healing is necessary.
Here, the saarebas not only keep their ability to speak (and therefore accept demons) but have the chance to roam free as mercenaries, healers, and Grey Wardens.
Before, Sten would say that Ferelden and places like it are fools to let such beasts wander free.
But this Grey Warden is no beast.
She's like some of the few Tamassrans that he's seen in Parvollen. Strong. Firm. And yet also like those in the Beresaad with her skill in battle.
And her healing has saved his life on more than one occasion.
This Avina is an odd creature. She is small, even smaller than a human, but the forces of nature bend to her will. She is a Grey Warden. A fierce warrior, a tenacious protector.
When she learned of his loss of Asala, she promised to find the blade for him. It is possible that she could be lying, but Sten knows she is not.
She also knows of his love of those sweet, crumbly things... When they went to Denerim, she bought a box of them for him.
Sten knows that his brothers that accompanied him here were his some of his closest friends.
But he does not know how this warden managed to gain that title so quickly, given her kind.
If she truly finds his sword and he can return to Parvollen, he will tell the Arishok the truth. Ferelden does not yet need to be invaded, and the Blight is under control.
Tel'abelas.
Next chapter: The Lady and the Drunk