Legam toyed with the downy shoulders of his Tevinter robes, his insides fluttering. He stood inside Denerim's royal palace, at the front of the Great Hall. His friend and new king of Ferelden, Alistair, smiled warmly at the Rivaini mage. The monarch turned back to the crowd as he delivered a rather touching speech on the arcane Warden's accomplishments.
Or, at least, Legam assumed it was touching, judging by the looks on the faces of the gathered celebrators. The mage himself did not listen, for fear of standing before a crowd of hundreds drove all focus from his mind.
His fingers ran through the short feathers once more in an attempt to distract his nerves. The exotic fashioned vestments were the only remotely formal attire he owned; the Chasind robes he often wore these days were far too ragged and uncivilized in style to even consider wearing to a victory celebration amongst Ferelden's nobility. At least, Leliana told him such when she caught him dressing for the gala.
A tiny smile cracked through the jittery mage's façade. With no small amusement, he recalled his bard's horrified face as he fastened the belts to his outfit.
"Surely you are not wearing that to the ceremony?" She gasped.
Legam quirked an eyebrow at her, "Why not? They're comfortable robes. I don't see why I can't wear them today."
The expression upon the Orlesian's face conveyed a level of horror on par with the prospect of facing three archdemons simultaneously. Instantly, Legam realized his mistake. A long tirade of fashion principles, criticisms of "excessive Ferelden practicality," and other such topics over the mage's head followed.
Somewhere between Leliana's speech and the coronation, Legam found himself in the bright blue Tevinter robes. Apparently, their azure tone "complimented his eyes." Unsure what that meant, he nonetheless complied with Leliana's fussing. Long ago he learned she enjoyed fashion, whereas he paid it little heed. If wearing the slightly stiff Imperium robes made his lady happy, then he wore them gladly.
"Is there any sort of boon you wish granted, my friend?" Alistair's voice snapped Legam out of his recollections. He stared back at his comrade, only half aware of the king's question. Alistair chuckled, amused to catch the mage in a moment of inattention. "Surely after all you have done, you deserve some sort of reward. Ask me anything – if it is within my power, I shall grant it."
Legam bit his lip, pondering. What did he want? Truly, a year-and-a-half ago he would've answered "to go back to the Circle and live quietly," but he knew such a life remained out of his grasp. Even if he were to return, the Circle felt too small to him now. Though he still preferred quiet and serenity to the hectic pace of an adventurer's life, he admitted there was a certain appeal in seeking out new sights. Not to mention much work remained in rebuilding the country.
To be rid of the Taint, perhaps? He never wanted to be a Grey Warden, but with the council of Wynne and the support of Leliana, he'd long ago resigned himself to at least some Warden duties for the rest of his days. Duty may not always call him, but a sense of responsibility in helping others certainly did.
While he accepted his role as a Warden to some degree, Legam still hoped to rid himself of the Taint's more deadly consequences. However, that was beyond Alistair's power – and when Legam spared Avernus under the condition he continue his research more ethically, he also ensured said research took far longer to complete.
Riches? Legam already acquired sufficient funds during his fight against the Blight to buy a comfortable home in Denerim, with enough to spare for several charities. Besides, he saw money as a means of survival in the outside world – and even then, one did not need it in abundance. Coin never struck him as something to covet for its own sake.
Love? He already had Leliana and all his friends – save Morrigan – gathered here today. While he pondered the witch's fate, he respected her desire to leave and be left alone. So long as she and her child caused no unprovoked harm, he would not seek them out – despite his uncertainty in the wisdom of having the ritual done in the first place.
The mage sighed heavily. After recovering somewhat from the battle with the archdemon, he had explained the situation with Morrigan and her ritual to Leliana. She reacted much as expected – hurt by his omission, and angered he neglected to consult with her first before making a decision. Her ire did not last long, however. Leliana understood his reasons, and while she still wondered if letting Morrigan raise a reborn Old God proved wise, she was glad Legam survived slaying the archdemon. Selfish, yes, but as Wynne warned, love was selfish sometimes.
Pulling himself out of his inner moping, Legam turned his gaze back to Ferelden's newest monarch, "Nothing, your Majesty," he answered with complete honesty, "There is nothing more I want."
Alistair's light eyebrows quirked slightly, revealing his surprise – however mild. "Truly? Nothing at all? You're really taking this 'hero' thing seriously, aren't you?" The ex-templar smirked teasingly before his smile softened with more sincerity, "Well, allow me to do something for you, regardless." He turned to face the crowd, projecting his voice.
"Let it be known from this day forward that the Circle of Mages will operate independent of the Chantry. I believe our friend here has proven the good a mage can do for our nation. The mages will govern themselves, and the templars shall stick to hunting down apostates."
The crowd broke into a mingling of astonished gasps, protests, and cries of support. Legam spotted Irving in the crowd, and even the first enchanter's beard could not hide his surprise. The Rivaini would laugh at the sight, but his own jaw was slack at the moment.
Alistair clapped a hand on the bemused mage's shoulder, lowering his voice, "You can take that as my way of saying' I forgive you' for making me king and doing Morrigan's ritual."
Legam gathered all his self-restraint and resisted the urge to hug Alistair before a large audience. He settled for a low waist-bow and a sputtered, "T-thank you, your Grace. You are… Far, far too kind."
"And don't you forget it." Alistair grinned. Raising his voice over the crowd, he addressed the Warden more publicly. "So, what are your plans now? Anything special?" The crowd ceased their mutterings, curious what path their hero wished to seek.
Legam felt their eyes upon him, his cheeks and ears flushing at the unwanted attention. He paused yet again to ponder, though his answer came quicker this time. "I think I shall stay and help the Wardens rebuild in Amaranthine, at least for a while."
"A fine plan. I hope you intend to visit often, though. Don't forget, you promised you'd be my advisor." Alistair's tone indicated mirth mingled with slight trepidation. He still feared the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
His mage companion smiled, "I imagine Arl Eamon can help you well enough when I am away, but don't think I'll abandon you. Even if my feet take me elsewhere, I think I'll always return to Denerim. I was born here after all. Besides, you'll need help rebuilding the city, too."
Alistair nodded before looking back out at the crowd, which began to disperse and mingle amongst themselves. "Well, you'd best get going and tend to your adoring crowd. Apparently, there's quite a vocal gathering outside. Many of the common folk wish to see their savior. Best not to keep them waiting."
Legam rubbed his neck, unenthused. He hated crowds and formalities, but what could he do? Business before pleasure. The mage gazed out into the mob, spotting Shale and Sten instantly. At the very least, he mused, he could speak with his friends before enduring more public appearances. Legam exhaled deeply, looking back at Alistair, "I suppose not. I will speak with you later, my friend. Ensure you enjoy yourself as well." He held out his hand, an open gesture of friendship.
Alistair happily clapped his gauntleted hand against the mage's. Legam winced slightly at the impact, though Alistair paid no mind. "Take care. If anyone starts hassling you, let me know and I'll sic the guards on them."
They laughed together, releasing their grasp on each other. Legam gave the king one last smile before walking down the stone steps, preparing to exercise his rather lacking mingling skills.
~*~*~
Legam leaned against a post, exhausted. Navigating through the sea of nobility proved more difficult than fighting darkspawn – every two paces, somebody stopped him and engaged in conversation. How he managed to speak with as many of his friends as he did in an hour, he knew not. And then there were the masses outside! While such levels of support for a mage from the commoners proved a pleasant change of pace, Legam scarcely heard himself think over the din of their cheering.
Several hours of hand-shaking, nodding, and gracious "you're welcomes" later, Legam finally returned to the festivities indoors. By now, the sun sank below the hills, quickly transitioning the day into evening. Thankfully, portions of the nobles either left for home or gathered for dinner, finally allowing Legam a chance to breathe and take time for himself. The mage sighed, running a hand through his hair.
The reality of the Blight's end still did not quite sink in, though his earlier conversations with his companions did help cement the fact their little group had few reasons to remain as they were. Alistair had governmental duties to attend, and Sten decided to finally report back to the arashok – though not before thanking his kadan once more for finding his sword. Wynne planned to travel with Shale into Tevinter in hopes of discovering a way to revert its golem status. Considering the stone creature's distaste for anything "fleshy," this decision caught Legam by surprise. Apparently, his influence convinced the golem that being a "squishy fleshling" was not all bad. Legam supposed he should take that as the highest form of respect from Shale.
Not everyone ventured far away, at least. Oghren chose to remain in Denerim for now, perhaps getting in touch with Felsi again. The dwarf left his options open, and Legam wagered he and Oghren would cross paths again soon.
Benjamin, Legam's loyal Mabari, went where he did, of course – but today the dog kept Sten company. The two respected each other as warriors, so Legam figured Benjamin wished to share the Qunari's company one last time before he returned to the Marshes.
Zevran, in his own jibbing way, offered to join Legam in rebuilding the Wardens. Apparently they "needed a mascot." The mage laughed at the thought of an Antivan Crow being a mascot for anything, but he welcomed the assassin's company regardless. While he and Zevran frequently did not share the same outlook on things – and more often than not, the elf grated on Leliana's nerves – Legam had formed a strong friendship with him, and, oddly enough, trusted the Crow with his life.
Legam only hoped Leliana did not protest Zevran's company. After all, she would be accompanying him as well. Or, at least… he assumed she was. The mage frowned. He'd yet to find the Orlesian in the crowd, and since the archdemon's death, the couple barely had ten minutes alone with one another – nor the time to discuss their plans after events calmed.
True, in months past they talked about their future. Leliana assured Legam she intended to remain in his company, regardless of what happened. Nonetheless, his worrisome side wondered if that remained true now. Perhaps she'd find aiding him in Warden business too boring, or–
"Ah, there is the man of the hour." The subject of his woes broke Legam away from them. Relaxing a little, he turned to face his beloved bard. A grin spread across his bearded face, observing the elegant dress she wore, adorned in warm colors. Though he disliked dressing formally himself, Legam certainly appreciated fancier attire on Leliana. A double standard perhaps, but love did that sometimes.
Noticing his ogling, Leliana rolled her eyes, but allowed herself a soft chuckle. She continued talking, hoping to bring his attention back to her words and not her dress, "It's all rather theatrical, I think. The conquering hero has won the day, and now he takes his bow and exits the stage. A fine ending." She smiled warmly at the mage.
A smile he returned, taking one of her hands in both of his. "A fine ending indeed," he agreed, his eyes glittering in mirth as he leveled his gaze with hers, "Yet one important plot thread remains untied: Does the hero get his girl?"
Leliana laughed lowly. "Yes," she affirmed, her ice-colored eyes mirroring his amusement, "Yes, he most certainly does."
"Good." Legam lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, "You know the inner romantic in me loves sappy endings."
The Orlesian chuckled once more, gazing at the other party goers. "You know, I can't help now but think of my vision. I do not doubt that the Maker sent me to help you, and look what you did!" She turned back to Legam, smiling warmly, "It's truly a miracle."
"It really does feel like that, to at least some degree," Legam agreed, running his thumb across the back of her hand affectionately, "Though I like to believe it's the result of ten individuals busting their arses for the better part of two years, coupled with a healthy dose of divine intervention."
"Heh, I suppose you are right." Leliana squeezed his hand gently. A ginger eyebrow rose, "So… If I heard right earlier, you plan on rebuilding the Wardens, no?"
"Indeed I do." Legam nodded.
"I have to admit, that caught me a bit by surprise. I thought you'd be eager to give up the lifestyle as soon as you were able."
"Truth be told, the option remains very tempting," Legam admitted, "And I don't plan on being the most active member, but… Ferelden needs to recover, and it needs more Wardens. They serve an important purpose, and I would be glad to at least assist them in regaining a foothold here."
"A fine plan, truly." Leliana commended. Her lips curled upwards mischieviously, "As it so happens, my plan is to do exactly the same thing."
Hearing those words, relief and joy filled Legam's heart. He returned her teasing, sporting his own smirk. "Damn right it is." Legam's fingers pushed gently against Leliana's chin, coaxing it upwards towards his own face.
The bard laughed yet again, "Well, I'm glad we cleared that up," she teased before their lips connected. Legam's hands circled around her waist, pulling Leliana flush with him. A muffled yelp escaped Leliana's mouth, surprised by his forwardness. Usually, the mage let her take charge, but Legam grew slightly bolder with her each passing day; a select few times he even invited her to bed without prior coaxing.
And Andraste's flaming sword, did Leliana enjoy those moments when her mage took the reins. She didn't mind leading the steps, but Legam's occasional bold streaks frequently led to rather pleasant surprises. The bard found herself trying to recall which wing in the palace housed their temporary accommodations.
Perhaps sensing Leliana's train of thought, Legam broke away from the kiss, not quite ready to seek further privacy just yet. Another matter needed attending at the moment. Best to get it out of the way, while his mind remained clear. Closing his eyes to inhale – and to avoid seeing Leliana's slight pout – Legam spoke, "By the way – I hope you do not mind, but Zevran will be joining us."
"Zevran?" Legam peeked open an eye to see Leliana frown slightly. She sighed, shaking her head, "I admit I never expected him to remain after the Blight, but… Now that I think on it more, I should not be so surprised. Despite his… quirks… He is a rather loyal friend."
Legam exhaled slightly, relieved. "So, you'll be able to put up with his… Mannerisms?"
Leliana smirked, glancing up at the Rivaini man, "For you, yes. Besides, Zevran is not all entirely bad. I think I can manage." She paused a moment before querying, "Are there any of the others joining us as well? I only spoke with Alistair and Wynne, but I gather the group is parting ways soon."
Legam nodded, "Aye. Benjamin will come along, of course, and I'm certain we'll see Alistair and Oghren when we're in Denerim, but the others are going their own ways."
"It will be strange without everyone together." Leliana sighed, then smirked again, "But I suppose this means we'll have a bit more privacy at camp."
The mage chuckled, rolling his eyes, "Again, I remind you that Zevran is coming with us."
Her lips thinned, barely withholding a frown, "Well, warn him that if he wishes to tag along, he'd best stop offering to assist you in my 'considerable need for release,' or I swear I will drive one of his daggers up his – "
"All right," Legam interrupted, laughing, "All right, I get it. I'll be sure to pass the warning on." He rested his forehead against hers, his laughter lowering into a chuckle. "Ah, je t'aime, Leliana. You may fool others with the innocent Chantry girl act, but you are quite the spitfire sometimes."
Leliana raised an eyebrow at the Orlesian phrase. "Hm. Not too terrible a pronunciation, though your Ferelden accent is a bit heavy."
"Oh? You're one to comment on heavier accents." Legam grinned.
The bard chuckled, conceding his point, "But where did you learn to say 'I love you' in Orlesian? I'm fairly certain you never asked me how to say it."
"I never did ask you, no. But I did pick it up from you." The corners of the mage's lips pulled back into a wicked grin. "You know, Leli, I've noticed you often revert into Orlesian during more… passionate moments. I suspected 'Je t'aime' meant 'I love you,' or similar, considering how often you repeat it."
Leliana felt her cheeks flush as an amused Legam continued, "When I saw Erlina earlier today, I decided to see if she could confirm such, which she did." The Warden's smirk spread wider, "However, when I quoted some of the other phrases I've heard you say, the elf turned bright red and claimed it would be 'unladylike' for her to translate them. Hurried off rather quickly afterwards."
Her cheeks burning, Leliana buried her face in his chest, torn between embarrassment and amusement. The latter defeated the former, and though the bard's cheeks still tinged with crimson, when she resurfaced her laughter drew attention away from her blush. "Next time, perhaps you should just ask me to translate, so you don't go embarrassing any more Orlesian servants!"
"Now where's the fun in that?" Legam snickered. They giggled together for several minutes before calming down. The mage sighed, eyeing the late hour upon the nearest clock and watching the remaining nobles mingle by the banquet.
"Parties are much more enjoyable when the crowds thin."
"I don't know," Leliana disagreed, turning her head toward the other guests, "It is calmer, but there's a certain thrill in standing on center stage, so to speak."
Legam rolled his eyes, teasing, "Well, of course a bard thinks such. Especially one from Orlais! You Orlesian minstrels and your wanton need for attention, tsk!"
"What can I say? I enjoy performing before an audience." She traced a finger idly along the contours of his robe, her smile turning sly. "Of course, some acts are reserved for private performances, away from the crowds."
Over the past few months, Legam learned to decipher Leliana's code for bedroom invitations. Thinking of no other reasons to delay their own personal celebrations, the mage returned her smirk. His arms, still draped around her waist, gently pulled the bard even closer, their stomachs touching. "Oh? And where does one go to enjoy such performances?"
Leliana chuckled, tilting her head to the side. "I know a fine location –spacious, comfortable seating, complete with its own fireplace. Perfect for… Mood lighting."
Knowing she described their guest bedroom at the palace, Legam raised one eyebrow, "Sounds quite lovely. Perhaps the minstrel could kindly guide her captive audience to this venue?"
The bard pressed her palms against his chest, gently pushing herself away from Legam. Leliana reached down, taking one of his hands in hers. "Of course. Follow me." Threading their fingers and giving his hand a soft squeeze, Leliana began her trek down the hallway, a smug mage Warden in tow.
~*~*~
Whew, took me a while to get this one out. Been really busy as of late. Still have two more to go. I'll try not to take as long with the final two chapters, but since they won't be based off specific game moments, they might prove harder to write. We'll see. Since I intend to finish this before the Awakening expansion comes out, I'll do my best to be vague in some parts so that the events from it (hopefully) fit in with what I'll have here. If not, I may go back later and change things around.
On a final note, if anyone's wondering where Schmooples went… He's being nug-sat by Wynne. :D Originally, I had a few lines including them at the end, but they felt awkward/out of balance with the rest of the story, and so I cut them out.
Thank you to the few of you who reviewed these so far. Feedback is much appreciated, though never required. Reviews or not, I hope everyone reading these has enjoyed them thus far. :)