Dear Agony (Suffer Slowly)

"What are we to do, Bann Teagan? These creatures appear out of nowhere, without warning. I have to keep my sword on night and day." The others in the meeting murmured in agreement.

"As we all should," Teagan advised.

Small bands of darkspawn were appearing all around Ferelden, from the eastern seashore to the Frostback Mountains in the west. Rainesfere sat between the mountains and Lake Calenhad, northwest of Redcliffe, on a small cape that jutted into the lake on its western shore. The quiet bannorn had experienced an attack the previous week. Aware that this was a blight, but not wanting to frighten his people with such dire news before the time came to act against the darkspawn in force, Teagan had summoned all the village leaders to his estate. He gave them instructions on how to safeguard themselves and their families. Never travel alone, carry a weapon at all times, arm sons and wives, and if the number of monsters was too much to handle, run to safety. That was the best he could do for them without an army to defend his bannorn.

"The Grey Wardens are working to help us," he assured them. "Even now…"

"The Grey Wardens?" one of the men echoed. "Didn't they all die at Ostagar?"

"Another of Loghain's lies," Teagan said grimly. "Don't believe anything you hear from Denerim as long as he is regent. He tried to kill them all off but I know of three who survived."

The bannorn had heard the truth about Loghain's treason from him when he first returned from the landsmeet after the Ostagar massacre. They were opposed to Loghain, as he was. Having now also heard that the regent was complicit in Arl Eamon's poisoning, they were avid supporters of Alistair in his bid for the throne. Ferelden did well under Maric and Cailan, and they felt Alistair would make a better ruler than Anora.

The door opened and Teagan's steward asked permission to enter. Teagan motioned him in. He spoke in hushed tones to his bann. "You have visitors, my lord. The Grey Wardens Alistair and Winter have just arrived. Shall I have them wait in your study?"

"Take them to the sitting room," Teagan said, controlling his excitement, "and serve them refreshments. Tell the cook to prepare a meal and tell her I have guests. Have the maids ready two rooms for them." The man bowed and retreated to carry out Teagan's orders.

Teagan closed out the meeting and saw the townsmen to the door while his steward tended to the guests. He was curious as to why they'd come, and why only the two of them instead of their usual party of four or five. Could something be wrong? Had Loghain found someone else to accomplish what Isolde failed to do against Eamon? Or had the traitorous regent started his civil war in earnest? Had they news of the blight? Was it progressing faster than they could raise a large enough army to combat it? Unease gnawed at the pit of his stomach.

A couple of the townsmen lingered with questions, and he patiently answered as best he could in his distracted state of mind. It was a repeat of what he'd told them in the meeting. Stay alert, stay armed, watch out for their neighbors, or run for safety. Satisfied that their bann was doing all he could to assist them, they left.

He hurried to his sitting room, the most luxuriously furnished room in his estate. Far better than his comparatively stark, impersonal study for such special guests, he thought. He wished, just for this occasion, that he lived in as fine a place as Redcliffe Castle. He thought his estate more than adequate for a moderately wealthy man like himself, but today it didn't seem good enough for such guests as the future king and the woman who'd consumed his thoughts since he met her.

The steward had closed the sitting room's heavy oaken double doors to keep out the drafts. He'd stoked the fireplace and the room was pleasantly warm. Teagan entered, and his guests rose to greet him.

"Sit, please," he urged them. "Haven't the servants brought you anything to eat and drink? Forgive my lax hospitality. I'll see to it at once. Your rooms should be ready if you'd care to rest a while before dinner."

"Teagan, relax. It's only us," Alistair laughed.

"That's gracious of you, Teagan, but we hadn't intended to stay long," Winter answered.

"Winter, welcome to Rainesfere," he said. "I do hope you'll stay at least overnight. You two look like you could use a good night's sleep."

"Thanks a lot," Alistair joked. "Is it my hair? I thought I looked particularly dashing today."

"And so you do, Your Majesty," Teagan agreed with a good-natured bow.

"Ugh, the title makes me queasy," Alistair groaned. "Fortunately, there's a civil war and a blight between me and all that responsibility."

The maid arrived with refreshments. Alistair tore off chunks of fresh bread, layered them with thick slabs of cheese, and wolfed them down like he hadn't eaten in days. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and went for seconds and thirds.

"If I'd known you two hadn't eaten since you left your camp I would have had them bring meats instead of this light snack," Teagan said in dismay.

"We had lunch a couple of hours ago," Winter said. "That's how he always eats."

"Maker… just like when he was a boy."

Alistair smiled through his mouthful of food, making his cheeks puff out comically. Winter and Teagan laughed at his inane behavior. He went back to eating. Conversation could wait.

"What brings you this way?" Teagan asked, turning his full attention to Winter. "Not that I'm the least bit unhappy to have you here. You are always welcome in my home."

Winter looked flustered. "It's… This is going to sound silly. I don't quite know how to explain it."

"Is anything wrong? Have you news of the war or of Eamon?" Teagan prompted her. What could have her in such a state of discomfiture? She didn't look disturbed; she looked… embarrassed?

"We've just come from Redcliffe, and Eamon is fine. He sends his greetings and asked us to convey his thanks for your help," she replied, side-stepping a direct answer to exactly what brought them to his house.

"She had a dream about you," Alistair said, muffling his words by talking with a mouthful of food. "And Eamon. She said it was pretty racy."

Teagan smiled, aware that Alistair was trying to embarrass her further but unable to resist making a quip of his own. "How can I complain when a beautiful woman dreams of me? I can truthfully say I've never had that happen before. Pity that I had to share your attention with Eamon." He made a moue of distaste.

"Stop it, both of you," Winter huffed. "It was a nightmare, a frightening one, and I was worried for you and Eamon. Don't make it sound… Just don't do that."

"I liked my version better," Alistair grinned, finally sated. He let out a long, rumbling belch.

"As did I," Teagan agreed.

Winter folded her arms, looked away from them and kept quiet. She wasn't angry with them. Their banter was funny, but she was playing the game her own way. Alistair had done a good job of embarrassing her, but truth be told, she thought of Teagan occasionally and wondered how he fared after all that had happened at Redcliffe. She was relieved both he and Eamon were getting along well.

"Uncle Teagan," Alistair began, "do you remember that horse I used to ride when I visited? The black stallion with the star on his forehead?"

"Oh, so it's 'Uncle' again when you want to get to my stables, is it?" Teagan teased. "Yes, of course I remember him. His name was…"

"Midnight," Alistair cut in.

"Moonlight," Teagan corrected him. "Midnight was the name you gave him."

"I don't suppose… Of course not, it's been ages. He's long dead, I imagine."

"Sadly, yes, but I have a couple of generations of his bloodline. He was the finest horse I've ever owned, and it would have been a crime to let his line die out."

"Can I see them?" Alistair asked excitedly.

"Certainly. Winter, would you like to accompany us?"

"No thank you," she answered. She liked horses, but she abhorred the smell of stables. "I'll just wait here." She picked up her mead and took a long drink. Alistair and horses, just like Aiden and his hound. What was the attraction between men and animals? Similar levels of intelligence, she thought with an inner grin.

"I can find my way there," Alistair said. "You stay here and assure Winter that you're not being stalked by undead and demons. And if I'm not right back, I'll be out riding."

"Enjoy yourself," Teagan replied, glad to have time alone with Winter. Now, how would he fill the time without making a fool of himself and spilling his feelings for her? "Well, how can I keep you amused, my dear? Would you like a tour of the house? Or of the grounds? Or the gardens? Perhaps the orchards?"

"All of them, if we have time," she replied, extending a hand for him to help her to her feet. He took it in both of his and she pulled herself from the plush chair.

"We have all the time you like," her host responded.

"Lead on," she said. "I imagine we should see the grounds first, before it gets dark."

"You're staying the night after all, then?" he asked, hoping she didn't catch how flirtatious that sounded. Her responding laughter indicated that she had caught it and found it amusing.

She enjoyed being around him. He was handsomer than she remembered. His blue eyes had a sparkle that was lacking before. He smiled readily. When last they spoke he was under extreme stress, worried for Eamon and trying to protect Redcliffe. Added to that was the revelation of Isolde's treachery, Connor's possession, and Eamon's illness. Now, without the interference of demons, walking corpses, and murderers, they were relaxed and could have a pleasant visit.

They strolled through his gardens, passed by the orchards, and when he mentioned the meadery, she asked to see it. She walked all around it, touching everything, fascinated by the process and the size of the storage barrels. "Big enough to swim in," she mused. When she'd satisfied her curiosity about the meadery, they walked along the lake. Alistair rode by on a glossy black stallion, waving at them and showing off by spurring the horse to a gallop.

"He was just like that as a boy," Teagan recalled fondly. "He loved horses, especially Moonlight." He added on a more somber note, "If I'd known how badly Isolde treated him, I would have taken him rather than let her convince Eamon to send him away."

"You were practically still a boy yourself," Winter said. "He needed a maternal figure and you were unmarried. He didn't like the chantry, but it did him more good than he admits. It was just unfortunate that he felt he'd been cast aside."

"I never forgot about him," Teagan said. "I simply thought he wouldn't want to see me, and after Eamon visited the chantry and Alistair refused to talk to him, I was convinced he wanted nothing more to do with us. Then, when we were told all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar, I was sorry I'd never made an attempt to visit him."

His regret was so profound that Winter's compassion was piqued. She halted their walk and faced him. "You have no reason to feel badly, Teagan. Alistair holds no ill feelings toward you or Eamon. If anything, he regrets his behavior when Eamon visited him. He understands why he had to go to the chantry, and he doesn't blame anyone. Not even Isolde. He has a deep admiration for you and Eamon, and he considers you both the closest thing to a family he has. So stop blaming yourself for something in the past that was out of your hands."

"I suppose you're right," he sighed.

As they strolled back toward the estate, Teagan wondered about her relationship with Alistair. She knew a lot about his life, things he wouldn't share with someone he didn't feel close to. But how close were they? Friends? More than friends? Lovers? He pushed the thought aside, content in her company and unwilling to let idle brooding spoil the day.

"The sun is setting," he pointed out. "If you still want a tour of the house, we can go inside." He didn't mention that the real reason he wanted to get her indoors was the darkspawn attack from the previous week.

"Yes, I'd like that," she agreed. "And perhaps another cup of your famous Rainesfere mead. Spiced, if you'd be so kind." She took off her weapons and settled into a chair in the sitting room. Aside from her armor, she looked completely at home in the setting.

She looks like she belongs here. Like a wife, Teagan thought.

"Done," he said. "I'll be right back with your mead." In a flurry of orders, he had the cook warm some mead, sent a servant to the seamstress to purchase a dressing gown for Winter, and instructed the maids to change his linens and prepare his suite for his female guest, with three ewers of hot water and three of cold, to be brought up while they were having dinner. He would exchange rooms with her for the night without her knowledge. His bedchamber was the only one in the house with its own bath. It would give her one of the small pleasures that her life as a warden didn't allow.

Alistair came in as Teagan was bringing the two flagons of mead to the sitting room. "You read my mind," he said, taking one of the flagons and draining it. "Mmm, spiced," he commented appreciatively. "What a treat for us poor wanderers." Teagan opened the sitting room door and found Winter curled up in the chair, fast asleep.

He handed Alistair the second flagon of mead. "I don't think she'll be wanting this."

"You bored her that badly?" Alistair smiled over his drink. "It takes me days to put her to sleep with my conversation."

"What can I say in my defense? An old man's ramblings aren't as captivating as a younger man's tales of his heroism."

They sat at the far end of the room and talked quietly about the horse, the estate, and the bannorn. Teagan told him about the darkspawn attack, and Alistair's brow furrowed. "They're getting bolder," he remarked. "An ominous sign. We have to get to Orzammar as quickly as we can. That's the last of the treaties. When we've gotten their promise of troops, we can return to Arl Eamon and start making battle plans."

"The civil war is spreading our troops thin," Teagan said. "Fereldans killing other Fereldans because of one man's lust for power and control. He claims to have been a staunch supporter of Maric's, but Maric wouldn't have wanted the country divided."

"I'll wager there were a lot of things Maric wouldn't have wanted Loghain to do, the first being abandoning Cailan at Ostagar," Alistair said. "Dividing the country is just the next step in his rise to the throne. Anora is holding it for him, although she doesn't know it yet. Or maybe Loghain won't actually proclaim himself king, but with his daughter as a figurehead queen, he'll be the real power behind her."

"Either way, what he did to Cailan is treason. If Anora played any part in the conspiracy, if she even knew of it and did nothing to stop him, she's as guilty as her father." Teagan grew quiet and recalled the things Cailan had told him months ago, the last time he saw his nephew. His plan to divorce Anora and marry Empress Celene—if he truly meant to go through with it—was enough to send Loghain into a murderous rage. If Anora also knew, she might not have intervened.

Winter stirred and curled up again with a shiver. The room had grown cooler as the fire died down. Teagan got up and added more logs to the fireplace, stirring up the embers with an iron poker until they blazed. Alistair spied a woolen blanket draped over a chair, and he got it and covered his companion with it. Teagan noticed how he cared for Winter, and he wondered again at the nature of their relationship. If they were involved, any chance he may have had to win her affections was gone.

There was a light tap at the door, and a kitchen maid opened it and told Teagan that dinner would be ready within the hour. He turned to Alistair. "If you'd like to freshen up or rest before dinner, this would be a good time." He sniffed the air. "You smell like horses," he finished with a grin.

"He does, doesn't he?" Winter agreed sleepily.

"Alright, I get it, I smell bad," Alistair said. "I'll go wash up."

"The maid will show you to your room," Teagan answered, and called for the servant. "And what of you, Winter? Do you want to go upstairs also?"

"Only if I smell as badly as he does," she smiled. "Otherwise I'll wait until after dinner. Once I get in the same room with a bed, there will be no coming out until I've slept a good six hours or so." Assured she didn't reek, she shooed Alistair out of the room before he made the whole house smell like the stables. When he'd left, she said to Teagan, "I heard what you said about a darkspawn attack. For what it's worth, I haven't sensed any since we've been here."

"It's worth a great deal," Teagan said. "The townspeople were traumatized by the sight of those creatures, and for good reason. No one was hurt, but if there had been more of them, it could have been disastrous."

"We'll do our best to finish our business in Orzammar quickly. I've never dealt with dwarves before so I don't know what to expect, but the treaty is a binding agreement. It shouldn't take long to get their support. Then, as Alistair said, we can start planning."

"You heard the entire conversation?"

She chuckled. "Sleeping on the ground for months has made me a light sleeper. I'll sometimes sleep through a thunderstorm, but a whisper can wake me."

"Tell me, what is it like to be a Grey Warden? They're a secretive group."

"We are, and the reasons for secrecy are also secret," she said. "As for what it's like, I suppose it's not much different from any other soldier, except that our only targets are darkspawn. We don't get involved in political or civil fights. Grey Wardens have a specific purpose, and it's a job no one should take on lightly. It's not so much a job, per se, but a life."

"Are Grey Wardens bound to the order for life? Is there no end to your service?" He found it disturbing. "Does no one ever leave the wardens and return to their old lives?"

"I've heard some have left," she said. "I haven't known enough of them, or been a warden long enough myself, to know what others have done. Duncan was a warden for thirty years, and he never expressed a desire to return to his old life, Alistair told me. He never even talked of who he was before he became a warden. Alistair himself wouldn't quit the wardens for anything except to fulfill his role as king, and even then, he's reluctant to leave."

What had Loghain done in killing off the only warriors able to kill an archdemon and end a blight? Had he doomed Ferelden to annihilation with his power-grab? The man was arrogant, but if he thought a large army could end the blight without Grey Wardens, he was more than presumptuous. He was insane.

"Wasn't there a third warden in your party?" Teagan asked. "The young man who returned to the castle with Brother Genetivi?"

"Aiden? He went ahead to Orzammar. We'll meet up with him when we get there. Hopefully, he's made some headway with the dwarven rulers and we can finish up what he's begun."

"You know, Winter, Eamon plans to call for a landsmeet once the treaties have been served and our allies secured. He says we need to deal with Loghain before we take on the darkspawn. I agree with him. Loghain is a danger to Ferelden."

"I believe he is, too. If Eamon wants a landmeet, that's what we'll do. The sooner we depose Anora and strip Loghain if his authority, the better. Alistair may not have any experience in leadership, but he's a true Fereldan and a blood heir. With the discipline he learned as a templar, his compassion for others, and his devotion to duty, he's not apt to let power go to his head."

"You seem to admire him," Teagan observed. He was fishing. "You know him well, I take it?"

She answered, "It would be difficult to live around someone for so long without learning enough to either admire or despise them. Alistair's character is admirable, and he's a strong, fearless warrior. Duncan was wise to select him."

"I don't doubt it," he said. She hadn't revealed anything. "Alistair will need guidance when he takes the throne. I'm not a politician and have no desire to spend my days in the king's court. Eamon could be of great help, though, if Alistair selects him. But what are your plans after the war, if I may ask? Will you stay and serve in his court, or remain with the wardens, or try to resume a normal life?"

Winter replied, "I hadn't considered my future, truthfully. At this point, all that matters is gathering an army and ending the blight. Beyond that, I can't say what I'll do."

"Have you thought of returning to Starkhaven?"

"No. I won't go back to Starkhaven. Ferelden is my home."

Teagan noted how her voice tightened when she answered, as though talking about Starkhaven was difficult for her. He reminded himself not to bring it up in conversation again.

"Ferelden is lucky to have you," he said. "I, for one, wouldn't want you to leave here."

"Well then, I guess you're stuck with me," she said flippantly.

Before he could come up with a witty reply, a servant summoned them to dinner. He rose and extended a hand to Winter. She placed her small hand in his palm and he marveled at how those delicate-looking hands could wield swords with such expertise. She grabbed his hand with a firm grip, pulled herself up, and linked her arm through his.

"Would you escort a lady to dinner?" she smiled.

He was delighted with her charmingly brazen behavior. "Gladly. Proudly." He escorted her to the dining room. Alistair was already seated and waiting. He didn't raise an eyebrow when they walked in arm-in-arm.

That's a good sign. No surprise, no jealousy. Maybe I was wrong to worry, Teagan thought.

The cook had made a feast, and they dined in relative silence, if one didn't consider the occasional slurps, gulps, and belches coming from Alistair. Winter shot him a nasty look after he emitted an especially loud belch.

"What?" he asked, trying to look innocent. After that, he stifled his noises.

Winter was fatigued and ate little. Tiredness didn't slow Alistair down. He consumed heaps of food. Even Teagan had seconds, but nobody could keep pace with Alistair. Nor did they want to. The man must have had a blast furnace for a stomach. But the food was plentiful and good, and Teagan was pleased to see his guests making themselves at home.

Long before Alistair finished eating, Winter excused herself from the table, saying she was going to retire for the night. Teagan summoned a maid to show her to the suite. "The eastern suite on the upper floor," he reminded the girl, and she nodded her understanding that he meant the master suite. "Be sure that our guest has everything she needs." The maid curtsied smartly and led Winter up the stairs.

Teagan and Alistair had warm ale before retiring. The ale relaxed Alistair, and with his stomach full and a real bed waiting for him, he was ready to sleep. He bid his surrogate uncle good night and ambled off. Teagan, satisfied that his guests were well cared for, retired as well.

In her suite, Winter was thrilled to find a bath of polished stone and plenty of water—some of it still steaming. She poured it into the tub and shucked her armor and undergarments, then slipped into the water. The chilly waterfall at camp was a blessing and she was grateful for it. This hot bath, though, was luxurious. She lounged in the water until it began to grow too cool, then she washed and dried herself with a bath sheet.

A white cotton gown had been laid out on the bed for her. That was odd. Teagan was a bachelor and had no need of such things. She thought it might belong to one of the maids, but the fabric smelled new. She shrugged it off, too tired to care. It was soft and clean, and there was a great big bed waiting for her. The servants had made a blazing fire before she got to the room, and she added another couple of logs to keep the cavernous suite warm until she fell asleep.

She crawled into bed, pulled the blankets and quilts up around her neck, and settled in the soft goose feather pillows. Her bed back home wasn't this nice, and she thought hers was the best ever made. This one was fit for royalty. Before she drifted off, she thought on the day's events, on her gracious host, and on her still-confused feelings for Alistair.

Scratch that thought. I don't want to keep myself awake battling with feelings again. They'll work themselves out.

She rolled over, throwing her slender arms over the pillows and burrowing into them. The house had a distinctly masculine scent. It was a pleasing aroma. She fell asleep comforted, feeling as if strong arms were around her, keeping her safe and warm.

Teagan lay awake in the guest suite. The bed was comfortable, the room more than adequate. No reason for insomnia other than his troubled thoughts. Tomorrow they would be leaving, and he might not see her again until they set off to battle the blight. He'd missed her since he last saw her at Redcliffe Castle. Seeing her today was a gift from the Maker, but his heart ached with love that he couldn't express to her. He had left the castle because of the memories she'd made for him there; how would he live in his own home after she'd gone? It would be empty and lonely without her.

He had fallen in love with her foolishly, but it happened so subtly that he was in too deep before he could stop the fall. Back then—weeks ago? months ago?—he was captivated by her beauty and her character; now he was bewitched by her delightful personality. The more he got to know her, the more deeply he loved her.

One thought disturbed him more than his aching heart. Orzammar was the underground city of the dwarves, but also the entrance to the Deep Roads, the darkspawn lair. It was said to be miles of tunnels and caverns, so deep that a river of lava ran through it. That was where she and Alistair were going. Into Orzammar. So close to the monsters' lair. So dangerous that he feared for their safety. He feared for her life. She was skilled, but darkspawn in great numbers had overwhelmed Cailan and his army. What if they had to go to the Deep Roads… these two people who were so dear to him? What if the darkspawn chose that time, while they were in Orzammar, to come out of hiding and invade the city? What if…

Stop it! This is pointless worry. I can't "what if" myself to death.

He tossed restlessly, thinking of Winter in his suite, sleeping in his bed. He envisioned her there, her dark hair fanned out on the pillow, her eyes closed, her beautiful face serene in sleep. He imagined himself beside her, reaching out to stroke her cheek, touch her hair, embracing and kissing her. He imagined her, as he'd done countless times, loving him…

Stop tormenting yourself, you fool.

He tried to occupy his mind by planning the following day's activities. Mundane things that had to be done like overseeing operations at the meadery, going over the books, checking up on the townsfolk, receiving nobles and hearing their concerns, checking to make sure Alistair hadn't crippled his best breeding stallion with his wild ride… His uneventful life had one thing in its favor: it bored him to sleep.

Alistair and Teagan were up and at the breakfast table early. They waited for Winter, but after a half hour without a sign of her, they became concerned. Teagan sent a maid to check on her and ask if she needed anything. The maid came back in a few minutes, saying that the lady guest had overslept, and she sent word that she would be downstairs directly.

Alistair chuckled. "That's a first for her. She usually sleeps in bursts of minutes, not hours. I think she's pushed herself to the brink of exhaustion."

"I suspect you're right," Teagan agreed. "I don't know how you adventurous types survive under such demanding, harsh conditions. No sleep, no shelter, foraging for food…"

"We sleep, we have tents, and some of our people are skilled hunters, so we always have food. It's not so bad once you realize you have no other choice." He said it lightheartedly, but it was a serious matter. They did what they had to do to survive, and they survived so they could fight.

Winter came into the room looking well-rested and radiant, apologizing for her lateness. "I didn't want to leave that bed," she commented. "I think it has some sort of magic that held me against my will."

"I think you needed a good night's rest after all these months of taking catnaps on the ground," Alistair said. "You deserved it. Nothing to apologize for." Teagan agreed with him.

She woke with a healthy appetite, and helped herself to a plateful of the delicacies Teagan had instructed the cook to prepare. "Fresh milk?" she observed with delight. "I haven't had milk in… I can't remember when." She poured a cup and downed it. "This is cow's milk, not goat? We've died and gone to the golden city, right? I could stay here forever."

Teagan jumped on that comment. "Please do. You're most welcome here."

"I wish," she said ruefully. "You know what?" she began, spearing a piece of sausage and popping it into her mouth. She used the fork as her pointer, and pointed it at Teagan. "I was thinking," she paused to chew, and went on in spurts of words, "… that you might like to come along." Stop, chew, swallow, spear another piece of sausage. "Have you ever been to Orzammar?"

"My dear girl, I rarely go further than the borders of Rainesfere except when I visit Eamon in Redcliffe. I've been to Denerim maybe ten times in my entire life. I don't think I've been to any of the other cities in Ferelden."

"Your life is too quiet," she observed, and Alistair nodded. "You should come with us, have some fun. We can check out the dwarven-made goods, supposedly some of the finest weapons and armor made in all Ferelden." Teagan listened with an amused ear while she prattled on, thinking he was actually cut out for the same kind of lifestyle the wardens led. "And then, if you're really feeling plucky, we could venture into the Deep Roads."

"You're not serious," Teagan said, his amusement quenched. "You don't truly plan to go to the Deep Roads, do you?"

"Don't listen to her, Uncle Teagan," Alistair said, "She's just trying to get to you. You have to watch her if she gets too comfortable around you. She'll try to lure you to dangerous places for her fiendish entertainment."

"Liar," Winter snarled playfully. "I've never purposely led anyone into danger, but it finds us anyway." She finished her breakfast in one bite, Alistar-style. "I have no plans and no desire to go to the Deep Roads, Teagan. I was joking. Don't let my quirky humor upset you."

He relaxed upon hearing they weren't going to the Deep Roads after all. "I'm not upset, dear girl. I'm concerned for you both because of the dangers you face. I do wish you would come by here on your way back to your camp after you finish your business in Orzammar."

She looked up at Alistair. He was all for it. "We could do that. It's on the way to Redcliffe, so if you really want us to…"

"I really want you to."

"Then it's settled," she said, pushing away from the table and rising to her feet. "Now we'd better be on our way or we'll never get there and back. Wouldn't want to miss out on the blight, would we, Alistair?"

"Absolutely not. It will be the highlight of my career as a Grey Warden. Or maybe the end of it."

"You two will be the death of me," Teagan groaned.

"Rubbish," Winter said. "Don't worry. We'll be careful and we'll be fine, and I promise this will be our first stop on the way back."

"Thank you," Teagan said. "It will ease my mind greatly when I see you both again."

They secured their armor and weapons, strapping them into place. Winter helped Alistair hook his shield on his back, calling him a "tin turtle" and touching off another round of banter. Armed, armored, and well fed, they were ready to leave. Alistair turned to Teagan and shook his hand.

"Thank you for everything," he said, in one of his rare serious moments. "I've had the most fun, the best conversations, the best meals, and the best night's sleep I've had since I became a Grey Warden. It felt like… like family, I suppose."

"It was a pleasure to have you here, Nephew," Teagan replied warmly. "Just like old times." He walked them to the door and accompanied them down the stairs. Alistair went on ahead but Winter stopped to say her goodbyes.

"It truly was the most pleasant time I've had in years," she said, meaning it sincerely. "I enjoyed your company as well as your hospitality. And I look forward to coming back."

"Not nearly as much as I look forward to having you back here," Teagan answered.

Winter took his hands in hers, sending his heart racing. She stunned him with the words that he'd spoken to her at Redcliffe: "If only things were different…"

"Meaning?" Teagan prompted.

"Meaning I wish I could stay longer. You're a dear friend. And Rainesfere is… perfect. I haven't seen its equal in all Ferelden." She took a long look around as if recording a mental image of the land, then added with regret, "But I can't stay. We've already lingered too long."

A dear friend. She saw him as nothing but a friend. He recalled Eamon's words about Isolde: "A pretty face, a much younger woman… I should have known better." He hid his disappointment and put on a smile for her.

As she turned to go, movement dropped to a surreal crawl. He watched their hands disengage with dreamlike slowness, the vision playing out before his eyes frame by leisurely frame, mocking the hollow pain in his chest. He glanced up to see if she was experiencing the same peculiarity, and his gaze met her brilliant green eyes. They appeared brighter and deeper than before. If it were possible, she'd become lovelier. Her lips were curved in a smile. An inviting smile. Inviting him to…

Kiss her

…come along on their trek, but he couldn't. He wasn't an adventurer. How could an ordinary man catch the attention, much less win the heart, of a woman like Winter? The most he could do was to…

Kiss her

…defend himself, his house, and try to protect his bannorn. He would participate in the war and probably die in it, but before he did, he wanted to…

Kiss her

…tell her how much he'd come to care for her. If the chance presented itself. He hoped he'd get that chance, because the words were swelling and squeezing his insides with their insistent need to escape.

Her smile faded and her dark brows drew together. She cocked her head quizzically. "Teagan?" Her voice was melodic. A siren's seductive song. "Are you alright?"

His fantasy bubble popped and he was flung back to the present. "Yes, I'm fine. I… had a moment. Can't quite explain it." He smiled and shrugged sheepishly. "Getting old, I suppose."

She slapped him playfully on his chest. "Stop it! You're not getting old." Her smile returned, and became coy. "You're using that as an excuse not to come to Orzammar, aren't you?"

I would go to the void and back for you if you were mine.

"I wish I could go. I truly do. It sounds like a grand adventure, but my duties keep me tied down here more than I care to admit to myself."

"Oh you poor man," she cooed, without any sympathy whatsoever. "To be stuck in a paradise like Rainesfere must be torture."

Right now, as scenic and placid as Rainesfere was, it was torture. If he were freer he could travel with her, fight beside her, sleep near her (no, that would be too tempting), live with her as her companions did. But who was he kidding? He was an administrator. Keeping order and solving problems was what he did best. He was needed in the bannorn, now, with the darkspawn threatening towns. His people looked to him for leadership. He couldn't abandon them.

"Alright, if that's your final decision," she said. She glanced about and saw Alistair at the foot of the hill, patiently waiting for his leader, then she turned those magnificent eyes on Teagan again. "I'd better get going before my companions wander off the edge of the continent. Maybe someday I can talk you into coming with us. It would be the most fun you've ever had, I promise."

To his amazement, she put her hands on his shoulders, leaned to him, and kissed his cheek. Unthinking, he kissed her cheek in return. "Please have a care, Winter," he said in her ear. "Don't come to harm." He pulled away before he lost control and embraced her. "What would I… what would Ferelden be without its Lady of Swords?" The facetious turn might cover his small slip.

"Hmm… More peaceful?" she proffered. "Farewell, my friend. I'll see you again when we've finished with Orzammar."

"I'll be waiting," he vowed. When she was far out of earshot, he said softly, "I love you, Winter."

He would wait for her. As long as she wasn't pledged to another, he would wait. And hope. He watched her go, and the longing inside him clamored for him to go after her.

Winter walked beside Alistair in silence for a while, thinking over the past day at Rainesfere. She found the place incredibly beautiful, more so than Starkhaven. If things were different, she could have made a home there. She wondered if she would ever have a real home again.

"You like him, don't you?" Alistair asked. "He's always been my favorite almost-uncle."

"He's a dear person. Who wouldn't like him?" Winter answered.

"Loghain doesn't like him, that's who," he responded.

Thinking ahead to Eamon's landmeet, she said, "Loghain's days as regent are numbered."