A/N: RL permiting I have finally managed a new chapter. This is my first attempt at a love scene I hope you enjoy.
Thank you to my awesome Beta Kira Tamarion, and Bioware who owns everything. I just get to play with their characters.
What Change brings
Amalyr woke with a start; the last thing she remembered was Keeper Marethari placing her hands on her, then nothing just soothing warmth. Still feeling the after effects of the sleep spell, Amalyr sat up looking around in confusion at the dark stained wood of an unfamiliar aravel. She blushed when she realized that she was no longer covered in blood, her armor and clothing had been cleaned and neatly stacked in the corner. Steady breathing drew her attention to the person sleeping beside her.
Reaching out tentatively. "Bethy, Bethy wake up."
Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand Bethany slowly sat up.
"Lyr?" Bethany's voice was taking on a shrill note. "Lyr? What happened? There was so much blood! You were covered in it!"
The game with Fenarel and Safyre, tracking the Templars, her father. Oh Maker, father! Everything came rushing back with painful clarity.
Bursting into tears Amalyr flung her arms around her sister. Bethany hugged her sister back trying to comfort her, when the crying finally subsided she pulled back a little, brow wrinkling in concern. "Lyr, tell me what happened."
Avoiding her sister's gaze Amalyr focused on the dividing curtain, shuddering at the memories; she pulled her knees to her chin and began to relate the events, leaving out the worst details.
By the time she had finished Bethany was quietly weeping. "I can't believe he's gone, fathers gone." Eyes going wide. "How are we going to tell mother, this will tear her apart."
Amalyr winced. What do I tell mother? I failed? I wasn't fast enough and let father die? "I don't know." Not knowing what else to do Amalyr began studying the room they were in. We're not in the Keeper's aravel.
Glancing down at the oversized tunic she was wearing, she looked at her sister. "Bethy?" Curiosity getting the best of her. "What happened?" Gesturing at the clothing and then room. "Where are we?"
"Oh where to start." Bethany attempted a smile for her sister.
"Safyre came tearing into camp looking for Junar and the Keeper. Given the state she was in when she had arrived, Tamlen refused to let her leave without him and practically shouted at her that he would not let her return without him. A couple hours after the elves left; Fenarel returned carrying you. We had to use one of his tunics when me and Safyre cleaned you up. He wouldn't let anyone else near you." She arched an eye brow. "We're in his aravel."
The curtain parted revealing the elf in question, he spared a glance for Bethany his gaze finally settling on Amalyr. "I've brought you some tea." moving into the room he handed each steaming cup. "I will take you home when you are ready."
"Fen..." Amalyr sucked on her bottom lip and reached for his wrist. "Fenarel?" The tall elf sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, waiting for her to continue. "Thank you." Turning a faint shade of pink she looked around at the room and the clothing. "For everything." She whispered.
Reaching out Fenarel gently tucked an errant lock behind Amalyr's ear, his fingers lightly following the curve of her jaw, studying her eyes intently.
"No need emma vhenan." He leaned forward softly brushing his lips against hers.
Earlier events momentarily forgotten she smiled shyly up at Fenarel. "What does that phrase mean?"
The question brought out his charming half-smile. "One day I will tell you."
He then released her and went back into the outer room.
Bethany was smothering a real smile at the surprised expression on her twin's face.
He had heard the pounding at the door, then strange voices, but assumed that it was a late night visitor for his father, until he heard the anguish in his mother's voice. Carver had rushed from his room to find his mother collapsing to her knees by the body of his father, a sight that would haunt his memories for a long time to come. The elves had been less than informative when he had tried to find out what had happed, he had been told he would have to wait for his sister to return for they had not been present. Then they had left without another word.
He had spent the better part of this morning with his mother preparing last rites for his father. The Templars questioned him. How his father was killed; why the Dalish where the ones who had brought the body back; was he sure it wasn't the savages who had killed him; it went on and on. When it seemed the Templars were finally satisfied with his answers they had Bryant and a few of the other Templar initiates help bring his father's remains to the Chantry, each expressing their sorrow at the loss of such a fine member of the community, and they would do whatever they could to make this time easier to bear.
Carver had been listening to the staccato of his mother's foot falls, for what seemed like ages, worrying about where his sisters where, why they had not returned yet, and what could have happened to her baby girls. He continued drumming his fingers as he listened to his mother pace back and forth.
They have to know what has happened. They spend all of their time with those elves. Those elves brought father back said Amalyr would know what happened. Working himself into a fine fit, Carver slammed his fist into the table. Bringing his mother's pacing to a startled halt.
"They should be back by now!" Carver stormed from the room and out the door.
"Carver? Carver where are you going?" Leandra's panic stricken voice followed him.
"Out." He winced at the hurt look that clouded her eyes and softened his tone. "I'm going to get Bethany and Amalyr."
"Oh! Bring them home safe!" She pleaded.
Carver turned from his mother, heading toward the Dalish camp.
Carver, who always had a quick temper, was slow to cool once angered and his thoughts had been running in circles last night when the Dalish had brought back his father. Cresting the hill just outside Lothering; he was just managing to get his temper in check at the sight of his sisters and their friends.
He watched the group as he approached; Amalyr was holding Fenarel's hand absently playing with his fingers. All four broke into barely heard laughter from something the sable headed elf had said.
Fathers dead and they're laughing; they're playing around with those, those knife ears! His eyes narrowing and brows gathering like storm.
"Amalyr!"Carver swooped down on the group, grabbing her by the arm, to Bethany he growled. "Home! Now!" Sending her home ahead of them.
Fenarel stiffened at the sudden fright on Amalyr's face as she was dragged forcefully away. A hand on his shoulder stayed him when he would have stepped between the two siblings.
He looked down into friend's unusually serious face. "Have you not shown her what she needs to do if she truly does not wish to be held? This is not the time to be protective; she will need to decide if she will let him command her and do as he says or if she will stand on her own."
Safyre released him once she was sure she made her point. Both turned back to the scene before them seeing which Amalyr would choose.
Being caught and held captive by the ironhanded Templar flashed through Amalyr's mind when Carver's massive hand clamped around her arm and yanked her after him.
First she felt fear, then anger. "Carver! Let go!" She pulled, dropping her weight, using momentum to break her brother's hold, causing him to turn back to her. His eyes meeting her eyes glare for glare.
Amalyr's eyes went wide as Carver let lose his fear, anger and frustration in a torrent of accusations and contempt.
"Damn it Lyr! FATHERS DEAD! Do you have any idea what you put mother through, what you put me through? Do you even care that he's gone? Were you even there? If you were did you just let him die? Where…"
CRACK.
She hit me. Carver shocked out of his anger watching his sister running towards Lothering, quickly passing Bethany. Still feeling the sting of where Amalyr's fist had come into contact with his face Carver rubbed his jaw.
I can't believe she hit me! Movement out of the corner of his eye caused him to look back at the two elves he had dismissed as being there.
Fenarel sporting a lop-sided grin, reached to help Carver back up. His grin disappearing as he looked to see Amalyr's retreating form. Looking to Carver. "You are a fool!" Quicker than thought, Carver found the point of a Dar'Misu at his throat. Before he could launch himself at the elf. "Ar'din nuvenin na'din!"
The realization that this blonde elf could easily kill him helped cool his temper somewhat if not his humiliation at being laid out by his little sister.
Steel in his eyes Fenarel continued in a smooth voice as if having a pleasant afternoon conversation. "You have no idea what she has just gone through. She needs her older brother now, not some hot headed clod."
Safyre moved Fenarel's blade from Carver's neck. "Go talk with her, she will tell you what you need to know." Both elves left trailing after his sisters.
Carver cleared his throat rubbing his neck where the blade had been, and followed.
The weeks following Malcolm's death found the Hawke children very busy trying to regain some normalcy of their lives. Carver got past his resentment of his sister decking him asked her to join him rabbit hunting. On their way home he finally asked about the events of their father's death. Amalyr told him everything, leaving nothing out. He was shocked at what happened, but proud at how his little sister had handled herself, and glad that she had not died that day as well.
Following the heart to heart, Carver spent a lot more time hunting with Amalyr becoming closer to his sister then he had been; When the twins had decided it was time to continue their training he had taken to traveling with his sisters to the Dalish camp. Carver even joined in the weapons training with Amalyr. The long hours training taught the two how to create a beautifully deadly dance with his broad sword and her two blades and fight as a cohesive unit never letting the others back go unguarded.
Rumors started sprouting about vile beast appearing in the wilds. Most of the towns' folk put the rumors to be nothing more than ale addled wits spouting superstitious nonsense. Carver had gone to Danes Refuge to pick up spirits when he overheard the Bann's soldiers talking about possible mobilization down south past the Drakon River if the infestation continued to increase. After that, he began spending more time at tavern paying more attention to the rumors, and less time with Amalyr and her Dalish friends.
It was spring again; Amalyr was impatient for the return of the Dalish to this part of Ferelden. She had wanted to go hunting with Carver, but he had other plans with Peaches, even Bethany was busy with would-be suitors. So she had decided to go hunting on her own. Rabbit sounds like the perfect distraction.
The thick foliage and undergrowth had made tracking much easier than the hard baked dirt of full summer. "Oh, that's it, my friend," Amalyr whispered to the rabbit just starting to lose its winter coat. She sighted down the length of her arrow, as she had been taught, took a deep breath; she caught movement out of the corner of her eye as she prepared to release her shot. Amalyr removed the tension from her bow and slung it over her shoulder quickly disappearing into the underbrush, without as much as a rustle of a leaf.
I learned my lesson the hard way. I will not be caught unaware again. Amalyr frowned.
Last time someone strange came through this part of the forest spelt big trouble for me and mine. Following silently she studied the slim build of a person moving steadily ahead of her.
Damn that cloak, I can't tell who it is without getting closer and giving myself away. I'm going to have to wait for a better opportunity. She followed quietly for some time before the stranger decided to take a rest near the river. There is something familiar about the stranger's movements...his movements. She suddenly realized. She continued to watch from the brush trying to determine if this person would be a possible threat.
He knelt by the river bank, she could see him cup his hand and drink from the river, he then stood removing the cloak and laying it on a nearby log revealing shoulder length almost white hair, pointed ears and slim build of the Dalish hunter.
Fenarel. It's Fenarel! Oh, this is perfect. Amalyr moved to silently remove her armor, bow and anything that could inadvertently give away her position before she was ready. She set the items under the boughs of the overgrown pine she had hidden in so long ago. Melting back into the shadows. I may never have another chance to catch him unaware.
Looking around she located a stick about the length of her boot dagger. With a sly-fox smile, Amalyr ghosted up behind Fenarel, placing the stick across his throat, and purring into his ear. "Surrender ser elf, for I have you now."
Without warning Fenarel gripped her wrist, quickly disarming her of her twig. Pulling, he spun her around pinning her back to him. She could feel his breath tickle her ear. "And if I refuse, emma vhenan?" His warm voice rumbled back.
Feigning surrender, she leaned into the tall elf's lean frame. "You still haven't told me what that means."
Amaryl felt Fenarel relax and start to move backward. Choosing that moment to strike, she seized his forearm using her momentum and his weight to her advantage. She dropped using the same method she had used with the pock-faced Templar, pivoting and sweeping Fenarel's feet out from under him.
Amalyr straddled him placing the recovered twig back to his neck. Grinning cheekily. "I say again ser elf, surrender."
"Never give a larger opponent a chance." Twinkle in his eye, Fenarel bucked upward grabbing the arm that held the twig, abruptly pinning her below him. "Lest you give him the upper hand."
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. "Depends on the opponent. I might be willing to give him the upper hand." Oh dear maker, I did not mean that the way it sounded.
"Woman! By the creators do not tempt me." He growled playfully, he had yet to release his hold and allow her to her feet.
The proximity of Fenarel, was intoxicating and she was finding it difficult to think with him pressing so closely against her. The way he was looking at her caused a fire to kindle in her core and course through her body.
She remembered the brief kiss in his aravel, so long ago and the way it had felt. He smelled of wood smoke and leather. Impulsively, she bridged the small gap between them, capturing his lips. His grip tightened on her wrist and he pulled away. Blushing, she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth; Amalyr opened her eyes at his rich chuckle. He was looking, studying her with that look in his eyes.
Smiling that heart-melting smile. "Lyr, you are a remarkable woman." He took her hand, placing her palm on his chest. "Emma vhenan, in the old tongue means 'my heart'"
She could feel the strength of his heart beating beneath her hand. Keeping her hand on his heart Amalyr was watching him in wide-eyed wonder. Reaching out, she tentatively traced the shell of his ear, and his jaw line.
Fenarel placed his hand over her wandering fingers, placing a kiss on the inside of her palm.
He trailed light kisses up her arm, along the silken line of her neck, capturing her mouth with his own. Lacing his fingers through her hair Fenarel's tongue sought entrance, deepening their kiss. "I've missed you Lyr." He whispered against her lips.
Caught unprepared for the on slot of emotions, she let out a low moan when he drew her ear into his mouth. Pulling the soft cotton undershirt from her waistband, his free hand explored her hills and valleys.
She gasped when his callused hand slid beneath her breast band, gently caressing her. Emboldened by his touch Amalyr began to explore Fenarel's body. Her dexterous fingers, making short work of buckles and lacing, quickly divesting him of his armor. Following the play of his muscles beneath her questing fingers, marveling at the smooth texture of his skin. Amalyr moved her hands along Fenarel's upper body as he hovered above, watching the play of emotion across his face. When she reached his waistline, she started biting her lip and blushing furiously.
Fenarel stopped her questing hand. "Lyr?" He smiled encouragingly. "You've never done, you've never been with anyone?"
She shook her head.
"Emma vhenan, we can wait. We don't have to do this now."
Amalyr leaned up into him, biting playfully at his lip. "Don't you dare stop." She growled into his mouth.
Holding her tight he put his head on her shoulder. "This may hurt you."
"I want this," She spoke softly.
Her voice carrying the same hunger he felt. He was gentle but thorough, using everything he learned from his previous encounters to show her how beautiful, and fulfilling, joining could be. He took her to the edge and over, letting her ride the waves of ecstasy before he allowed himself to follow her into sweet bliss.
Amalyr woke warm, feeling sore, and very contented. She sniffed the air. I smell rabbit. Fenarel must have gone to catch dinner. Amalyr stretched, arching her back, causing the cloak to slide from her shoulders, she snatched at it, and promptly blushed looking around, making sure she had not been seen.
She glanced up at her lover when she felt his warm hand slide between her shoulder blades as he sat down next to her. "Emma vhenan, there is no one else here but us." His eyes danced. "And I do not mind the view." Kissing her right below the ear. "Here, eat." Fenarel passed her a rabbit leg waiting for her to eat before he started in on his portion.
Done with dinner, he stood pulling her up into him stealing another long languid kiss. Before he tossed the cloak to the side, he scooped up Amalyr and carried her into the river shallows. "Now we bathe."
"When did you get these?" She traced the lines of the new tattoos on his face.
He grabbed her hand pressing her finger tips to his lips. "I earned these on the clan's outward journey to Gwaren."
Amalyr luxuriated in the feel of being pampered as she listened to Fenarel talk of the clan's yearly journey.
Fenarel led her from the water, assisting her with drying and getting dressed. He sat next to the fire patting the ground between his legs, grinning up at her. "Come sit, I won't bite." He ran his fingers through her hair, nipping at the nape of her neck. "Well not much." Reaching into his belt pouch he pulled out a lovely black silk ribbon. "I have something for you. I picked this up from a merchant just outside of Gwaren." When he finished plaiting her hair, he slipped his hand around her waist, holding her close.