CHAPTER FOUR

"I have something to ask, Fen'Harel, if I may?" Pharen asked him as they strode through the forest. "Of course, da'enansal," he replied, stopping them and turning toward her. "Why do you call me a little gift when I've told you my name?" Pharen asked. It took him several moments to ponder over an answer, and he paused for so long she thought he may not answer her at all. "I call you that because that is what you must be. A little present." He smirked at her with his answer.

"But why? My name is Pharen," she stated again. "You showed up, unannounced, in my temple. With no marks save for my own scent upon you, and you do not expect me to call you a little gift when you were clearly meant for me?" His answer stunned her into silence. Smirking once more, he began to walk forward, shaping the Fade around them. There were elves hurrying past them, a marketplace bustling with life, merchants calling to passersby in ancient elvhen, she assumed about their wares. Great crystal spires towered above them, brooks of water flowing freely through the square, Eluvians at every possible corner she stared into.

She had stopped walking to gawk at everything he was showing her. Pharen released his arm and turned slowly about in the middle of the marketplace, trying to take everything in. When she made a full circle, she looked to Fen'Harel, standing there smugly. "Is…is this Arlathan?" she asked him. He nodded, chuckling at the face she was making. She was clearly in awe of what he showed her. He shifted his weight to one side, canting his head, considering her reaction to it all.

"I suppose if you will be staying with m-us, for a time, then I can guide you around the city. You have no markings, therefore you will not be questioned as to why you are here. This particular marketplace has the finest wares Arlathan has to offer. Though you may want to consider getting some, ah, new robes." At his words and his hesitation, she looked down at herself. Her robes were tattered, grass stains and dirt covered the bottom half of her. She bit her lip, embarrassed once more in the presence of the Dread Wolf.

He snickered. When Pharen looked at him questioningly, he was smiling again. "Did you forget where we were?" She knitted her brow, considering his words. "I think I will take you there after you wake up." She shot up in bed, hands flying to her robes. When she realized she was alone in her room, she put a hand over her heart in an attempt to calm its racing. The racing, however, was not attributed to being afraid of the six-eyed wolf in her dream. She did realize one thing, though. She was not afraid of him as the Dread Wolf; she realized with a fluttering feeling in her stomach she was afraid of what she was beginning to feel for him.

His purposeful steps as he walked, the little tricks he played on her in the woods, even so much as being near to him made her heart flutter. She was broken out of her reverie, however, when she heard a soft knock at the door. "Da'enansal? Are you…decent?" She heard him ask through the door. "You can come in, it's safe." She called to him.

As he opened the door to her room, she had to make a mental note to stare at him. He was wearing forest-green robes with golden Elvhen symbols crisscrossed across the fabric. He wore his signature skull atop his head, a leather thong holding his mass amount of hair out of his face. She could see now that in fact both sides of his head were shaven, an attractive look for him, to be sure. He stood in the doorway, a small smirk gracing his features. "With me, nowhere is 'safe'," he said, laughing at her horrified expression. "I jest, I jest, da'enansal." He walked toward her, sitting down at the edge of her bed, close enough to her that she felt the bed dip down with his weight.

"I thought maybe before I brought you to Arlathan you'd perhaps like to bathe first? I'm quite certain this was a long trip for you, wherever you came from, so please, by all means, take your time. I'll show you the bath house, if you wish?" His words sounded almost shy, not anything like the playful nature he had shown previously. Pharen stood to her feet, giving him a genuine smile. "I'd like that."

He smiled back, getting up from the bed, and offered his arm out for her to take. She took it without hesitation this time, and walked with him out of his throne room, down the hallway they had initially come down, and outside, where there was a giant fountain, depicting his wolf form. He steered them away from the statue, down a cobbled walkway that seemed to lead into a forest to the right side of his temple. As they approached the forest, Fen'Harel waved his hand to show it was not in fact a forest, but a building that was connected to the temple, albeit separate. She could smell all sorts of sweet-smelling fruits and flowers, some known to her; some not.

Fen'Harel led her to the door, stopping where the stone did on the ground. "This is far as I will take you. Once you are finished, you can find me in the throne room, and we will go together to Arlathan." He smiled, gently patting her hand on his arm, and excused himself from her sight. Pharen watched him leave, a contented smile on her face.

She opened the door to find the most entrancing sight yet. Along the walls were both veilfire and normal torches, the soft blue light and the orange from the fire giving a relaxing feel to the bath. The tub itself was sunken into the floor, and large enough to fit at least three elves besides herself in its depths. Shedding her robes and underthings on the floor, she cautiously put a toe in the water. Feeling its warmth, she waded into it, giving a soft sigh and groan and she relaxed in the water. Looking around, the saw several glass vials at the very edge, which she could only assume were to wash herself with, so she walked over to them, uncorking and smelling each one in turn.

Lifting up the last of the vials, not having found one she enjoyed yet, she uncorked and placed it close to her nose. The scent that wafted up to her was one of a sweet smelling fruit, combined with flowers that she herself had planted in the garden at Skyhold. Together, the two smells were lovely. Deciding to take a little time and wash away all the dirt and grime from her body, she completely immersed herself in the warm water, pausing when she walked over a rough part of the stone under her feet. Tracing the line with her toe, she realized it was in fact a fire rune, keeping the tub at its current temperature.

After washing her body and hair thoroughly, she got out of the bath, only to look out of the window and realize the sun was beginning to set. How long was I in there? I must have really needed it. Drying herself off, and grabbing a fresh robe from next to one of the braziers, not remembering one being there before, she walked down the hall that was attached to the temple itself. As she padded softly down the hallway, dirty robes in hand, she came to the runed door that led into Fen'Harel's throne room.

Pharen was uncertain as to how she could progress beyond this door, seeing as how it was very much locked. Unthinking, she raised her left hand over the handle, only to have it unlock before her. I suppose it recognized Fen'Harel's magic. She strode into the room to see the god himself lying haphazardly across his throne, his feet kicked up along the wolf's tail, his head lying against the side of the wolf. Upon hearing his door open, he cast his eyes towards her, a small smile tugging at his features. He sat up a little straighter, beckoning her to him.

"It is good to see you have finally made it back. The sentinels were beginning to worry," he said, chuckling, nodding over to the two ever-stoic figures standing guard outside her door. As she approached his throne, and before she could stop herself, she looked into his bluer-than-she-remembered eyes, and asked, "Just the sentinels were worried about me?" She kept her tone playful, but the color in her cheeks betrayed her. She watched as he lost all mirth, drawing his features down into a frown. He opened his mouth to reply, but Pharen beat him to it. "Ir abelas, Fen'Harel. I…forgot myself. It won't happen again."

Pharen cast her eyes to the ground at his feet, the skin on her chest, neck, and cheeks flaming red at the fact she had flirted with the Dread Wolf. The one person she was always taught to protect her clan from, and she felt as if she couldn't help herself but to do the exact opposite. Lost in thought and chastising herself, she hadn't even realized he had gotten up from his throne and was now standing less than two feet away from her. Bringing a hand up to cup her cheek and force her to look into his eyes, Pharen found herself looking up at a very much grinning Fen'Harel.

His voice was so low when he spoke that she barely managed to make out what he said next. "Da'enensal, what would it do to my reputation if I admitted aloud that I was genuinely worried that you took a longer bath than normal?" He had emphasized the word, causing her to flush deep once more, but unable to turn away from his penetrating gaze. When Pharen spoke, it came out as a near-whisper, and Fen'Harel couldn't stop himself from grinning wider. "Aren't we supposed to be going somewhere?"

"Ah, yes. Of course." Fen'Harel cleared his throat, easing away from her and retreating back toward his throne. "Are you ready, da'enansal? Arlathan is a decent way from here. We wouldn't want you to ruin your fresh robe on the path we must travel; I'm afraid I do not carry any spare female clothes with me." Pharen flushed and arched an exasperated eyebrow in his direction while he threw his hands up in mock surrender. "Follow me, then."