The Fever – Chapter 2

She found him hours later, after a very long nap, sitting by a large fire and playing with Finn. The Marbari War Hound was behaving like an uncivilized puppy, chasing and fetching a large stick, which Alistair was obediently throwing whenever it was brought to him. She watched the boys play for a moment, enjoying its innocence. She wished her heart could feel as light as they looked, but there was too much weighing it down. Elinora felt a moment's dizziness and borrowed a tree for support.

Maker's breath, steady! No fainting, swooning or simpering for any reason! No more being a little girl. Daddy's not here to protect you anymore…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Tears threatened, but she shoved them down.

And then the stick hit her in the shoulder.

Followed by Finn.

Finn forgot the stick and instead greeted his mistress with a thousand doggie kisses. Ferocious war hound indeed.

Alistair came running over, sword drawn and ready for an enemy combatant. He stopped when he saw who had been pounced and, adding insult to minor injury, started laughing. Elinora managed to extricate herself from the attentive hound. Alistair helped her up and received a punch in the arm for his troubles, which was totally ineffective due to his armor. And he wasn't Fergus, who was usually the one laughing and getting punched in the arm for teasing his sister.

She pulled back her offending fist, and stammered, "Sorry. Force of habit."

"No, no, I totally deserved it. And I apologize, for laughing. It was just…," he shrugged, "adorable."

Elinora rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. She walked over to the fire, Finn at her heels and started into it. "I came to thank you. I understand you stayed with me last night, took care of me."

"Well, I…"

"Took off my armor."

"Uh… um…"

"And gave it a magnificent cleaning." She turned to face him, an innocent smile on her face. It didn't quite reach her eyes. "Which a certain over-enthusiastic hound dog has ruined."

"I never… oh, right. The Marbari." Alistair had started with a nice blush, but was now going an alarming shade of scarlet.

Elinora's smile went wicked. She was enjoying watching squirm a little. "His name is Finn. Anyway, I hope I didn't inconvenience you last night, I really do appreciate your… attentions."

She turned and walked away.

Finn looked between Alistair and Elinora, smiled his doggie smile, and then followed her down the path.

He watched them go. He liked watching her go, but wanted her to come back, or turn or something. He even hoped for a smile, a real one.

"Grey Wardens!"

Alistair jumped at the sudden voice that came from behind, making his armor rattle in a most unmanly way. Elinora stopped and turned to see who called them. A foot soldier ran up to Alistair. "You are requested to attend Duncan and his Majesty in council immediately."

Elinora nodded once and turned towards the ruins.

He put on what he hoped was a charming smile and fell in besides her, the soldier running on ahead. "You ever been in a battle before?"

"No." She answered decisively, then thought better of it. "Well, yes. Now. Getting out of Highever in one piece was definitely a battle. I suppose that little trip through the Wilds didn't count?"

Alistair shrugged. "Nah, that was more of a violent walk."

"Wonderful."

"Now what we're expecting here is a formal assault with reinforcements and charges and everything."

"Shield walls too?" she asked with a dark playfulness.

"Maybe, that's up for the king and Duncan to decide. I, for one, am very excited. I can't wait to get out there, kill some darkspawn side-by-side with Cailin and Duncan."

She shook her head. "You sound like little boys playing at war. It all changes once you lose those you love." Her pace suddenly quickened, bringing her into the ruin and out of the conversation ahead of him.

Suddenly last night's nightmares made sense to Alistair. How could he be so stupid? She had cried out for her parents, reached for them. He'd held her while she wept for them. He'd been so distracted by her, well, femaleness to notice what she was babbling about.

Idiot.

He'd make it up to her, somehow.