Alix was far too polite to say it, but if she was honest, she was getting the teensiest bit tired of Manon. Of course she loved her friend, and she had missed her during the past two years. And yes, it had been great to catch up, to spend long hours each night gossiping and exchanging confidences. But it had been four days since Manon's arrival at the Keep now, and her constant presence was beginning to wear on Alix. It's definitely true what they say about visitors and fish.
It was quite a relief when Manon asked to be taken along for a patrol to the Deep Roads, where she hoped to encounter the talking darkspawn Alix had mentioned in her reports.
"You do realize there's no guarantee one of them will show up?" Alix rubbed her temples. She felt a headache coming on. "Besides, I won't be able to take you myself. I have an important meeting with some local dignitaries coming up." And she was so not looking forward to discussing the finer points of regional politics with the mayor and aldermen of Amaranthine.
"But that is not a problem, ma chère. You can send your gorgeous Warden Howe with me instead. I'm sure I will be in good hands with him." Manon was positively purring. "And you know what – let me take the mage as well. I bet he will be handy. In a fight, I mean."
Alix felt her jaw tense up further, but all jesting aside, Manon was right. "Sure. You'd better take Sigrun, too, and maybe Oghren. If you really run into an Emissary, you're going to need all the help you can get."
"That is very sweet of you." Manon beamed at her. "We won't be gone long, I hope."
"It will take you at least a week, maybe longer." Alix shook her head. "But don't worry. I'll be fine."
And she was, at first. It was nice to have her evenings all to herself again, to curl up in an armchair with a book and a glass of wine, basking in the peace and quiet of her room. Nice to go for solitary walks on the battlements, with no one around to ask polite questions about the Keep's architecture and to complain about the stiff Fereldan evening breeze. And yet…
As the days went by, she realised that something was missing. And it wasn't Manon's company, even though they'd known each other for so long and they'd gotten along splendidly from the first day they'd met. No, what Alix was craving was something else altogether: Nate's quiet presence at her side as she was talking to the locals; Anders' gentle smile when he showed her a spell he'd been working on; and most of all, the way the two of them were just there, keeping an eye out for her, making sure she got enough rest and didn't overexert herself.
By the seventh night after their departure, when she slid between her sheets, utterly exhausted from spending three consecutive days handling the arldom's extensive paperwork all by herself, Alix was ready to admit it: She missed them, both of them, and not even in a romantic sense. Over the past few months, she'd come to rely on them as friends and allies, and even if she still was convinced there couldn't be a repeat of their nights together, their offer of support didn't deserve to be discarded as easily as she had done. They could be friends, at least, and she vowed to herself that she'd talk to Nate once they were back and apologise for her recent coldness.
Yes, she decided, just as her eyes fell shut. They would talk it over, and they'd continue as friends, just friends. After all, they were all reasonable, grown-up people. They could handle this.
Maker, I hate the Deep Roads! Nate was sure he'd never felt this bored and frustrated. They had patrolled this particular section for days now, hoping to run into another one of the talking darkspawn that had given them so much trouble last year, but to no avail. It seemed as if they had all retreated to whatever filthy nest they had crawled out of in the first place. There was a fair number of genlocks and hurlocks about, and on the fourth night they were attacked by a gaggle of screeching shades that nearly swept away Oghren, before he managed to raise his axe and kill three of them in one fell swoop. But all the darkspawn they encountered were the ordinary kind, vicious and dangerous, to be sure, but with no signs of higher intelligence.
The Wardens from Orlais had proven to be able warriors, and they fought well together. Manon was incredibly fast with her two daggers, and Nate was a bit jealous. His own bow was all but useless in the dark tunnels, and the sword he was using to defend himself was not his favourite weapon, not by any stretch of the imagination. He felt clumsy and graceless wielding it, and he hated the feeling. In contrast, Anders was happily showing off his usual battle routine, raining down fireballs on their enemies and freezing attacking spiders and deep stalkers with a lazy flick of his wrist. Manon didn't say much, but she was clearly impressed, eyeing Anders with an expression that vacillated between awe and arousal. Nate couldn't blame her. He felt much the same himself.
After some scouting, they had set up camp in one of the few intact structures down here, an ancient dwarven guard room. They'd made themselves fairly comfortable there, lining up their bedrolls on one side of the room and building a comforting fire under a crack that provided natural ventilation. There was warm stew and tea to be had at night, and the Orlesians were pleasant enough company. After listening for a while, Nate found that he could recall quite a bit of his boyhood language lessons, enough to understand what they were saying and to throw in a few words himself.
It was all quite bearable, except for the darkness and the regular darkspawn attacks. And the lack of privacy, of course. It was sheer torment, to be with Anders all day long, to watch those long, graceful fingers, wrapped tight around his staff as he worked his spells, to get all worked up thinking about his lithe, slim body – and then to return to camp and be unable to do anything about it. By this time, Nate was just about ready to sneak off into a side tunnel with Anders and have him up against a wall, darkspawn and spiders and damp stone be damned!
"Copper for your thoughts?" Anders' warm hands settled on his shoulders from behind, and Nate shivered all over.
Leaning back, he grimaced at his lover. "Ah, no. I can't risk anyone overhearing us. Trust me, my thoughts aren't suited for polite company right now."
A retching noise from the right, where Sigrun was ladling stew into her bowl, confirmed his words. "Gah." She winked at him good-naturedly. "I'd tell the two of you to get a room, but I'm afraid we're stuck with you here. The roof next door looks hardly safe."
Anders responded with a laugh and an obscene gesture before dropping down on his knees behind Nate, so he could whisper in his ear. "You're not the only one. I swear, Nate, every time you start speaking Orlesian, it's all I can do not to drag you off into a corner."
"Is that so?" Nate didn't bother to hide his grin. "I'll have to keep that in mind for when we get back."
"Oh yeah." Anders breath was hot and sweet against his cheek. "Me, too. Just you wait." His fingers clenched hard on Nate's shoulders. With a last deep sigh, he flicked his tongue once against Nate's sensitive ear lobe, and then he was gone, heading for the door to start his guard shift.
"Damn you, Anders!" Nate cursed under his breath. The brief caress combined with Anders' hotly whispered words, had sent his imagination into overdrive, and he realized there was no way he could get up without embarrassing himself.
Taking deep, slow breaths, he tried to think of something else and to will his erection to subside, but before he had a chance, Manon dropped gracefully onto the floor right next to him, so close that her sleeve brushed against his. Involuntarily, he shuddered all over, just barely avoiding a moan.
Manon shot him a quick look that was altogether too perspicacious, and when she spoke, her voice sounded deep and sultry. "Good evening, Nate." They were on a first-name basis by now, after having fended off several life-threatening attacks side by side. Anything else would have felt weird. "How is your wound?" Manon placed her small hand lightly on his thigh.
He'd taken a genlock arrow to his leg on the first day, but the skirt of his thick leather armour had deflected it. One of Anders' healing spells had taken care of the small scrape.
Nate bit back another curse, hoping she wouldn't move her hand further up and notice his predicament. "It's fine." He probably sounded gruffer than he'd meant to, but his throat felt tight and dry. "It was just a scratch."
"Are you sure?" Manon's grip on his leg tightened almost imperceptibly. "Maybe there is something I could do to make you feel better."
It wasn't the first time she had tried to come on to him. There'd been heated looks and accidental touches, and lots of suggestive remarks, all through their journey. Nate wondered what Alix would make of that, if she knew. No matter. He knew what he needed to do. Yes, Manon was pretty and hot, and watching her move in battle, he'd caught himself more than once thinking about how flexible she was, but at the end of the day, Nate knew he didn't want this. Not now, not ever, no matter how horny he was.
"I said it's fine." Shaking his head in irritation, he took hold of Manon's wrist, gently but firmly pushing her hand away. "I can take care of myself."
"Oh my." The corners of her mouth turned up in a dirty grin. "I assume this is as ambiguous in your language as it is in mine?"
"It… oh, damn it!" Nate felt his cheeks heat up, but at the same time he felt a smile tugging at his mouth. Not the best choice of words, maybe. Or maybe exactly the right one. "It is," he admitted. "But it's still true, whatever meaning you choose to pick." Stubbornly, he held her gaze, refusing to back down.
"I do not doubt it." There was a raspy quality to her voice, and again, Nate felt the urge to smile. Clearly, he'd gotten to her, in more ways than one. "All right." With a sigh, Manon got to her feet again. "I shall leave you alone, then. Good night, Nate. Sweet dreams." Another cheery wink, and then she returned to her bedroll, exchanging a few robust jibes with her fellow Orlesians as she did so.
Nate exhaled slowly. Not much longer. He couldn't wait to be home.
Anders had just begun to allow himself a faint glimmer of hope that they would return home without having to deal with the special kind of awful that went by the name of 'talking darkspawn', when suddenly all hell broke loose.
He hadn't fallen asleep while on watch, nothing as embarrassing as that. But he had allowed his attention to wander a little bit, daydreaming of the gentle caress of Alix' magic, and he'd missed the tiny buzz caused by the darkspawn's proximity. Which was why the genlock arrow that whizzed by his ear took him completely by surprise.
He wasted no more time, though. Calling out a warning at the top of his voice, he turned around just in time to freeze the first wave of attackers in their tracks. A massive stone fist smashing into the first row of genlocks, shattered them all into tiny icicles.
By the time the air had cleared, Nate was already at his side. "Blight it. They couldn't let us sleep?" He was grinning, though, raising his bow to aim for the huge hurlock that was coming around the corner. "At least this tunnel's wide enough for a clear shot."
With a gurgling noise, the hurlock went down, an arrow sticking out of its throat. Anders felt a fierce surge of pride. They could handle this, Nate and him, all by themselves, if they had to. But already the others were there, and Oghren was roaring curses and swinging his axe at the attackers, while Sigrun had disappeared behind their lines and was taking them out one by one from behind.
The Orlesian Wardens weren't idle either. Manon was just about to charge right into the middle of the fray, when a deep voice stopped them all in their tracks.
"Grey Wardens. Your kind has not ventured down here in such numbers for quite some time. What is it you seek?" The leader of the darkspawn charge was taller than an ordinary hurlock and clad in chainmail of the finest quality. And it was clearly talking.
Manon cried out, whether in shock or in delight, it was hard to tell. "By the Maker! It is really true!"
Fighting back the urge to say, 'I told you so', Anders nodded curtly.
"I am Warden-Lieutenant de Villars, and I hail from Orlais. What is your name, creature?" Manon's voice rang out high and clear.
Oghren made a rude noise. "Orlesians and their fancy introductions! I'm telling you, the only thing I want to introduce this filth to is the sole of my boot."
Manon threw him an angry glance, but the darkspawn leader ignored him completely, focussing on her instead. "We do not have names in the sense that you do, Grey Warden. You may call me The Guard." It looked her over slowly and thoroughly. "What is it you seek?"
"You." Manon seemed utterly fascinated, taking several steps forward until she was almost face to face with the creature. "I have never met one of your kind who could talk. I wish to learn more about you."
"I see." The Guard seemed to consider her words for a moment, but then it shook his head and yawned. "No. You bore me. I will not waste more time on you." Raising its arm, it gestured at its followers. "Kill them all."
Somehow, Manon managed to jump back far enough to dodge the full impact of the axe blow it aimed at her. But Anders was close enough to hear the sickening crunch of the blade connecting with her upper arm. Damn! Alix would never forgive them if they didn't bring her friend back in one piece.
Without bothering to check on the others, he leaped to her side, throwing up a protective barrier over both of them. Not a moment too soon – the next blow hit the magic wall so hard he felt it vibrate in every cell of his body. But it held, and now the others were pressing hard forward, and the darkspawn had to retreat.
Anders considered joining them, but Manon's jerkin was already soaked with blood, and he had to focus his energies on healing, if he wanted to save her. Dimly, he heard Nate shout commands in the distance while he used his dagger to cut through the straps of her armour and the linen of her undershirt.
The blow wasn't too deep, and that was a relief. The arm would be black and blue for a few days, but there seemed to be no broken bones, and the rest was easy to mend. Still, the bleeding needed to be stopped, or Manon would be too weakened to make it back to the Keep. Anders worked feverishly, knitting together the torn muscles, willing her body to start healing, numbing her nerves enough to make the pain bearable.
Manon's eyes were wide open, and she was staring at him as if he was a ghost. Still in shock. Good. With any luck, she'd be asleep before the worst of the pain set in.
At some point during the healing, the others returned, loud and boisterous, drunk with victory, but when they saw Manon, they all turned quiet.
"Manon! You have to save her!" The young auburn-haired Warden – Stéphane, Anders' brain supplied - stepped closer. He sounded forlorn. "Can you help her?"
"I can, if you leave me alone." Anders knew he sounded brusque, but the last thing he needed now was the additional burden of comforting the young man. "Is anyone else hurt?"
"We're fine." And there was Nate, right by his side, shooing off Stéphane with a quick gesture. "Anything you need?"
"Get me a strong elfroot potion, if there are any left." Anders was more grateful for Nate's support than he liked to admit. His hands were beginning to shake, and he realized that he'd pushed himself too far. "And some lyrium, too."
When Nate returned with the potions, Anders had just finished wrapping a bandage around Manon's arm. With Nate's help, he made her drink up a whole flask of the bitter potion, then downed a vial of lyrium himself, making a face at the taste. "There. That should do it. Now all she needs is rest."
"You, too." Nate's mouth was set in a grim line. "You know you shouldn't-"
"I didn't have a choice, Nate." Anders was too exhausted to argue. "Just get me to my bedroll, will you?" The ground under his feet felt shaky as he got up, and a sudden wave of nausea hit him so hard he almost threw up. The last thing he remembered was Nate's arm around his waist, strong and safe, and then the world went dark.
He awoke much later, to the gentle sound of snoring all around him. The guard room was dark except for a few dying embers in the fireplace. Nate's arm was still wrapped around him, holding him tight, and when he tried to move, Nate made an irritated noise and pulled him even closer. Anders didn't want to wake him, and besides, he was still far too exhausted himself. So, he resigned himself to pins and needles and fell asleep again.
The next time he woke, everyone except for him and Manon was up and about. Sigrun was fiddling around with her backpack, and Oghren was stirring the fire. Nate and the Orlesians were nowhere in sight. Gingerly, he sat up and stretched, pleased to find that he wasn't as sore as he'd feared.
"Ah, you're awake." Sigrun smiled at him. "Nate will be back soon. They've gone out to make sure there are no stragglers left. I don't think they'll find any, though. We got them good last night."
"We sure did." Getting to his feet, Anders made his way over to Manon's bedroll.
She was awake, and when she saw him, she even managed a weak smile. "Anders. Thanks for saving my life."
"That's what I do." He shrugged, but he was secretly pleased. "Let me have a look." Her arm looked fine, with no swelling or other signs of infection. All things considered, that wasn't surprising. Good thing about being a Warden. You can't get more tainted than you already are. "You'll be fine," was all he said aloud. "One more day of rest, and then we can head back."
"We can leave today." Manon shook her head impatiently. "I am not that delicate."
"But you lost a lot of blood." Anders put on his best healer's face. "One more day. And lots of food."
"Well, I won't object to that." Manon was smiling again, but there were deep shadows under her eyes, and when she tried to sit up, she flinched.
"You're still in pain." Anders reached for his pack and dug out another elfroot potion. "I want you to drink this, as soon as you've eaten."
"Yes, messere." Manon's smile widened, even though there was a strained look around her eyes. "You know, you should order people around more. It is kind of hot, when you sound all strict and severe."
Fortunately, Anders was spared an answer, because right then, there was a commotion near the doorway.
"Ah, Nate is back." Manon was gazing wistfully past him. "Really, I adore Alix, but sometimes I do not understand her at all. That woman doesn't know what is good for her. But hey…" She took the potion from him, her hand brushing against his in passing. "I have an idea. Why don't the two of you come back to Orlais with me? I bet we would get along splendidly. What do you think?"
"What?" For a moment, Anders honestly didn't know what to say. But then he firmly shook his head. "I think you are tired and dizzy from the elfroot, and you don't know what you're talking about. I'll get you some stew now." Quickly, he got to his feet. "And afterwards, you really ought to get some rest."
Manon stared at him for a moment, but then she smiled again. "All right. I will be good. But make no mistake." Lying back on her bedroll, she winked up at him. "I know exactly what I am doing."
Huggles and thanks to the awesomest beta ever, my dear friend suilven!