During the journey back to Redcliffe, Morrigan was true to her word and began to teach Ilaria shape-changing. Ilaria had always been a good student of magic and most spells came easily to her. Shape-changing, however, seemed to be the one thing she was unable to grasp.
"No! You have to let go of your form," Morrigan stressed again. It was obvious she was getting frustrated. Her usually short temper had become shorter and her scowl had gone beyond her usual grimace. "You have to let go of what you are to become something else."
"I'm trying."
Ilaria was frustrated. She'd gone through the steps over and over again and had been unable to get her form to vary at all. She was now exhausted from repeated attempts. Her head had started throbbing dully sometime back and now her eyes had that itchy, need-to-sleep feeling. She rolled her neck from side to side in an attempt to loosen stiffening muscles.
Morrigan sighed. "Think of the animal you're trying to shift to. Picture the shape, movement, smell, if you can."
"Morrigan," she sighed heavily, "I think I've had enough for tonight."
"Very well." The dark haired witch turned to leave and shifted into a large black wolf as she did so. For a moment, yellow eyes flashed back to where Ilaria stood in the snow as if to goad her on. Then she disappeared into the gloom of early night.
Ilaria dropped heavily into the snow behind her. She could feel the cold pressing up beneath her and felt grateful for the heavy cloak she was wearing. Spring should be settling into the plains of the Bannorn. She missed the winters in Tevinter; balmy days followed by cool evenings. She'd seen snow a handful of times growing up when her family spent Satinalia in their home near the base of the High Reaches. As she gazed up into the night sky, the twinkling stars soothed her. Her thoughts soon drifted to happy times with her father.
"Completed your training for the night, bella mia?" Zevran's silken voice broke into her thoughts. "Or are you up for some sparing?" He slumped into the snow next to her, leaning over her slightly as he rested on his elbow.
Ilaria snorted. "I don't know that I'd call it training. More like endless attempts with inevitable failure quick to follow."
"Come now, no need to wallow. There are many was one could be... distracted," he said stroking a finger along the curve of her cheek.
Ilaria smiled up at him. Zevran had attempted several times to lure her to his tent. It reminded her of Anders. Those two men were the only ones who were so bold in their desire and shameless in their flirtation.
"Yes, I'm sure you could be a distraction," she replied, dramatically rolling her eyes. "But what if I don't need to be distracted. Maybe I just need to rest."
"Ah, well, I have the perfect way to relax you before sleeping as well."
Ilaria couldn't help sniggering. She always giggled when she was tired.
"A man could never tire of the sound of a woman's laugh," he chuckled. He leaned down and lightly pressed his lips over hers. She was mildly surprised but the kiss was short enough that she didn't have time to react.
"Zevran... I..." she stuttered.
"Do not worry, mio fiore. Nothing more is expected of you than you are willing to give. But, know that I am always here should you require something... distracting." He dropped his voice seductively and lightly brushed his fingertips over the exposed skin on her neck.
Her heart fluttered and her stomach clenched. Zevran was attractive and... dangerous. She knew it was foolish but she couldn't resist the appeal. She also knew that being with him wouldn't require any commitment from her other than the moment. But that was part of the problem. Pushing away the temptation, she rose gracefully from the snow.
"Let's head back to camp, shall we? Before you tempt me into becoming your next conquest."
"You would never be simply a conquest, my dear."
If he was disappointed, he didn't show it. He casually looped his arm over her shoulders and followed her back to the warm light of the fire.
Alistair watched Ilaria walk back into the firelight with Zevran. He couldn't help the sudden wash of jealousy. Could she really be interested in him? Was there something going on between them? He stirred the fire with the long stick he was holding, sending sparks up into the darkening sky.
He looked up to see Ilaria talking to Leliana and Zevran. After a moment, Ilaria was left alone. Zevran often accompanied Leliana in the twilight to hunt. Between the two of them, they kept the party well supplied with small game. Alistair watched Ilaria disappear into the shadows of the trees nearby. He quickly rose and followed her.
"Ilaria?" he called.
"Here," came the response. He pushed through a group of low hanging branches to find her lifting firewood from the forest floor. Here, beneath the thick branches of the trees, the snow was nearly gone. Spring was on its way.
"Need some help?" he questioned.
"If you like."
He couldn't help but notice she was still avoiding meeting his eyes.
"Is everything alright?"
"What?" She raised her head, looking startled.
"I was just wondering if everything is alright."
She smiled briefly before looking away again. "I'm fine."
Alistair steeled himself, taking a deep breath, before pushing through with what he'd been thinking lately.
"I meant is everything okay between us?"
This time, Ilaria straightened completely, dropping the wood she had in her arms. Alistair had not expected the expression of shock that flashed over her features before they smoothed into an exaggerated calm. She bent down and began picking up the firewood she'd dropped.
"I don't know what you mean, Alistair. Everything's fine." Her voice was muffled as she spoke with her face turned toward the ground.
He knelt down beside her and helped her to gather the wood on the ground and then took what she already held in her arms. They slowly began walking back toward camp side-by-side.
"It just seems like you've been... distant since we left Haven. I thought we were friends. Have I done something to upset you?"
She stopped walking so suddenly that he'd taken a few more steps before stopping as well. The silence hung in the frozen air between them for several moments before she spoke softly.
"You haven't done anything, Alistair. It's just... in the Circle... There were rules. Not real rules, nothing written down. They just... were. And I shouldn't..." Her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched. He'd never seen her so flustered. She bit her bottom lip and he wondered if she were about to cry. He dropped the firewood and closed the distance between them.
"Ilaria," he said gently tipping her chin up with his finger so her eyes would meet his.
Looking into her eyes, he felt for a moment that he could see everything she felt. At that moment, what he could see most was her loneliness and need. He leaned down to kiss her, hesitating for a few moments with his lips not quite touching hers. When she shifted toward him slightly, he pressed his lips over hers. He was gentle at first, barely holding her, giving her space to pull away. But as she lingered he slipped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him. He could feel the weight of her body as she leaned into him and soon his heart was pounding in his ears. It was as if he could feel everything and nothing all at once. He could feel the softness of her lips against his, her fingers reaching up to tangle in his hair, the soft curve of her body pressing against his; but the entire world had fallen away. There was no cold, only her warmth; no noise except his heartbeat; no smell but the tangle of her hair tickling his cheek; and the only taste was the sweetness of her mouth. He lost time and before he knew it, she was pulling away.
In the darkening twilight, he could see how her cheeks had flushed. Her lips had reddened from the pressure of his and she was breathing heavily. He couldn't think of anything more beautiful. Several moments passed as she stared at him in silence.
"I'm sorry," she choked out before running past him toward camp.
Alistair stood there, puzzled. Kissing her like that had been phenomenal. He couldn't count the number of times that he'd thought of kissing her but he'd never imagined it to be quite like that. And he certainly never thought she'd run away afterward. Fluffy, wet snowflakes began drifting down heavily around him as he gathered up the firewood. When he got back to camp, Ilaria was nowhere to be found and he didn't see her again for the rest of the night either.
He was up with the sun the next morning only to find that she'd gone scouting ahead with Leliana. When they made camp that night, she disappeared with Morrigan and was gone early again the next morning. She managed to avoid him each day until Redcliffe appeared ahead of them. Alistair tore his thoughts away from Ilaria, buried his disappointment and focused on getting the ashes to Eamon, hoping he was still alive.
Eamon had been successfully healed by Andraste's ashes. It was as if he'd never been ill; nearly a week had passed since then. The castle was abuzz with preparations for a party to celebrate the Arl's recovery and the Warden's who'd cured him. Ilaria had made herself scarce since arriving in Redcliffe. She couldn't bring herself to face Alistair. Kissing him that night had surprised her. She'd always found him attractive and she'd felt herself growing attached to him for sometime but the surge of emotion when he'd kissed her had completely thrown her off guard. The only way she could think of to process it was to avoid him.
She'd been walking the grounds near the castle most of the morning. The heady scent of spring floated on the breeze. The earliest flowers had begun blooming and green was spreading everywhere. She was just beginning to lose herself in birdsong when Leliana's voice caught her attention. Ilaria peeked out cautiously to make sure her friend was still alone before stepping out into full view.
"There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you'd walked completely out of Ferelden."
Ilaria snorted. "In one morning? You just saw me at breakfast. I don't walk that fast, Leli."
"Of course not. But why aren't you getting dressed? It's nearly lunchtime and you haven't event bathed in rosewater yet. I'll set your hair once it's clean but you'll have to use magic to dry it. We should have done that at sunrise..."
Ilaria looked at the sincere concern on Leliana's face and withheld a chuckle.
"I'm not really too concerned about my hair, Leli. It's not like I have anyone to impress."
"Really? I thought you and Alistair looked... cozy."
"Alistair is just... Alistair." Ilaria tried to sound nonchalant. She got the distinct impression she was unsuccessful.
"That was vague. Besides, even if you didn't want to impress Alistair, Bann Teagan is awfully handsome. I think he was asking where you were when he came to breakfast this morning."
"I didn't see Bann Teagan at breakfast."
"Of course you didn't, silly. You dashed out as soon as Arl Eamon appeared with Alistair. Teagan didn't come in for awhile after that."
"I just needed some fresh air."
"Uh-huh. Sure you did. Well," Leliana said, looping her arm through Ilaria's," I have a bath drawn in your room and if we hurry back it will still be hot. We can't have you looking slovenly at the Arl's party tonight, now can we?"
"Leliana, I really don't feel..."
"Come now. This is exactly what you need. Maker knows we've all seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime already and there's more to come. Let's take some pleasure while we can." Leliana smiled genuinely at her friend and Ilaria lost the heart to refuse her any further. She unenthusiastically followed the bubbly Orlesian bard back to the castle.
After soaking all the mud of in a hot bath, Ilaria sat patiently while Leliana washed, combed and braided her long hair. Leliana asked her to use magic to dry her hair and then disappeared while Ilaria did so. A few minutes later she reappeared carrying yards of fabric. Ilaria turned from the mirror and her jaw dropped.
"In the name of Andraste..." she exclaimed, rising from the stool, "where did you find that gown?"
"Beautiful, isn't it? The Arlessa gave me free reign of her closet for the party tonight. I selected a gown for Morrigan as well but I'm still working on getting her into it. But I saw this one and knew the color would be perfect for you."
"Leli, the Arlessa is several inches taller than me. There's no way..."
"Oh, shush! You don't think I'd only be bringing this to you now if I hadn't had it sized already, do you? I've had your measurements for weeks; ever since we left Redcliffe the first time. I helped you stock up, remember?"
Ilaria stared at the gown and felt a sudden longing to be back in Tevinter with her father. Pushing it aside she smiled at her friend, allowing the excitement of a beautiful new gown to fill her.
"Very well, help me get it on." She couldn't help but laugh out loud at the girlish squeal Leliana let loose.
Alistair was surprised by the number of guests that had arrived for the Arl's dinner party. He recognized most of the Bann's from nearby households but there were many he didn't recognize. Much to his chagrin, Arl Eamon had been introducing him as the rightful heir to the throne, the lost son of Maric. It caused him even more discomfort as he was introduced to the daughters of the Bann's. Their coquettish smiles were increasing his discomfort tenfold.
He'd just broken away from Arl Eamon to get a drink when he saw Morrigan and Leliana enter through a side door. Leliana's gown fit her perfectly and was beautiful but had a simplicity that prevented her from standing out. Alistair imagined that was a result of habit. Morrigan's gown was an inky purple that still left a great deal of her pale skin exposed. He thought she was beautiful as well until she sneered at the crowd around her before turning her gaze back to the open door behind her. He could see her mouth move but couldn't make out what she was saying. After a moment's pause, Leliana reached out the door and pulled in Ilaria. Her appearance nearly made Alistair drop his drink.
Her gown was a deep emerald green that lit up her red hair as if her pale face was circled by fire. The corset was fitted close to her slender frame down to the top of her hips where a full skirt flared out behind her. Her shoulders were bare and the sleeves wrapped her delicate arms to just below the elbow. As she turned, he could see her hair running in long, soft waves down her back. Like Leliana's, the gown itself was relatively simple but the perfect fit and the small details lit her like a beacon. Deylan approached the group of women and lightly kissed each of them on the cheek. When Alistair realized that he was leading them to greet Eamon, he rushed to the Arl's side.
"Arl Eamon, may I present some of my traveling companions."
"Ah, yes. Leliana, I believe I've met you before."
Leliana curtsied elegantly.
"This is Morrigan," Deylan gestured to the dark haired witch. As Eamon greeted her, she barely nodded and then turned away.
"And this is my dear friend, Ilaria."
"Arl Eamon," she said in a soft, even voice. Her curtsy was as elegant as Leliana's; both of them in perfect control. Alistair was about to speak when Teagan's voice broke in.
"Come now, Warden, will you not excuse me? Ilaria, can I ask you to waltz?"
Alistair knew of Teagan's reputation for being a bit of a flirt and an occasional philanderer. He was about to object when Ilaria responded.
"It would be my pleasure, Bann Teagan," and was quickly whisked away.
"Please, excuse me Arl," Deylan interjected, taking Morrigan's hand and disappearing with her into the crowd.
Alistair stared moodily into the swirl of dancers, watching Teagan guide Ilaria around the floor. As he caught glimpses of her face he could see that gentle smile she gave while listening. Teagan appeared to be oozing charm. Alistair ground his teeth.
"Alistair, why don't you take this lovely lady out to dance?"
"Hmm... what?" He dragged his eyes away.
"There is a beautiful young lady in front of you without a dance partner. Why don't you invite her to dance?"
"Oh, uh... yes. I'm sorry. Leliana, would you like to dance?" His heart was only half in it.
"I thought you'd never ask, Alistair," she said. If he hadn't been so distracted he might have noticed the tone of her voice. As they spun around the floor with the other dancers, he did his best to keep Ilaria in his sights. When he caught her laughing in inadvertently tightened his grip on Leliana's hand.
"You know," Leliana's voice broke through to him, reminding him she was there. "All you need to do is ask her to dance yourself."
"What? Oh... I don't think she wants to dance with me."
"Oh, Alistair. She might not think she wants to dance with you but there is nothing she wants more."
"I... Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
Leliana's laugh was both confusing and, somehow, amusing.
"Alistair, Ilaria has been in the Circle for three years. You trained as a templar. You must know what it's like for mages in the Circle to be in love."
"In love..."
Leliana rolled her eyes and sighed. "Alistair, I can't tell you exactly what she is feeling. I don't know that she fully shares that with anyone. And sometimes she gets this look in her eyes like she's... burying a great deal of pain. But when she looks at you..." Leliana broke into a tender smile.
"When she looks at me what?!" he pressed urgently.
"I think it would best be described as longing."
Alistair felt that familiar fluttering in his stomach that always seemed to hit him when Ilaria's eyes met his. Something in Leliana's words struck a chord in him. He wasn't sure if it was just hope or a ringing of truth. As the music came to an end, the dancers applauded.
"Go ask her to dance," Leliana urged.
Alistair scanned the floor, looking for Ilaria's familiar auburn hair only to find her dancing with the son of a Bann. He politely asked a young woman standing nearby to dance and finished out the song with her held at arm's length. As the next tune started, he found Ilaria dancing with Zevran. This seemed almost worst as the song was of Antivian origin and involved a great deal of... intimate proximity.
The floor quickly cleared of dancers as Zevran and Ilaria moved through the steps. Alistair knew that Ilaria had done a great deal of dancing in the Faire but he had never seen her dance before. The two of them seemed a perfectly matched pair. Their movements were elegant and full of fire. Her skirts spun around her, Zevran's hands guiding her through each movement as if he were caressing her. When the song ended, the applause was deafening and she was laughing. He could see her cheeks were flushed and, when the music started again, Zevran smoothly swept her away.
Alistair spend the rest of the night following her around the floor as she went from one partner to another. He nearly gave up trying to catch her when he noticed her sneaking away from the dance floor for a drink. He managed to cross the floor full of dancers just as she turned toward him. He mouth fell open slightly as he approached before she smiled sweetly. The pink flush of her cheeks reminded him of the night they kissed and he felt his heart begin to race.
"Will you dance with me, Ilaria?"
She hesitated for a moment before responding. "Of course, Alistair."
When the next song started, Alistair couldn't help but smile. It was a song long attached to a tale of deep, enduring love. As they took the floor, he wrapped his arm around Ilaria's delicate figure and pulled her slightly closer than was absolutely necessary. He measured his longer strides so that she wouldn't have any difficulty maintaining pace with him. At first, she kept her head tilted away from him as was common with some of the faster paced songs to watch where they were going and to avoid other couples.
"Ilaria," he whispered tenderly.
As she turned to look at him, he caught her eyes with his. He was so wrapped up in her, the flush of her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, that he didn't notice other couples leaving the floor. It wasn't till the song was finishing that he was aware of anything but her. As the music stopped, she took a step back from him a curtsied. She didn't say anything as she turned and quickly darted out the open door into the garden. It was then that he noticed the crowded that had gathered to watch them dance.
He stood there stunned, unaware of the music beginning again. It was Arl Eamon's voice at his shoulder that broke his gaze.
"She's a very beautiful woman. It's unfortunate that she isn't of noble birth."
"Excuse me, Arl Eamon." Alistair responded and disappeared out the doorway to the garden.
Spring had begun in earnest but the nights still carried a heavy chill. Ilaria looked out over Lake Calenhad, mesmerized by the half moon rippling in the dark water. Though the Circle Tower was too far away too be seen, she imagined it looming on the horizon. As a breeze gusted around her she shivered. She thought about returning inside, perhaps going to bed, but froze as a body-warmed coat slipped over her shoulders.
"You look cold." Alistair's familiar voice. There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Is everything alright? We haven't really spoken since..."
She turned to look at him. "Since we kissed."
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at him. Her eyes traced the dimly lit contours of his broad, muscular shoulders, up his neck and along the line of his strong jaw. He must have noticed when her gaze settled on his lips. He leaned down slowly, as he had before, and lightly pressed his lips against hers. She warred within herself. This just couldn't happen but it felt so right... perfect. As he pulled her closer, pressing his lips more firmly against hers, she breathed in his smell. There was a light hint of musky sweat and the soft smell of soap, the leather from his boots and belt, and something she couldn't quite identify that was simply Alistair. For a moment she allowed herself to get swept away in his smell, the heat of his body, the strength of his arms holding her close, the soft taste of his tongue as he brushed it against hers. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hands as they rested against his chest.
With a whimper, she pushed away from him and took several steps back. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the tears she was fighting and bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to drive them away.
"Ilaria," his voice was pained. "I don't understand. Why do you kiss me like that and then pull away."
"I'm sorry, Alistair. I just... I can't."
"Why?"
"How much time did you spend in the Circle during your templar training?" She could her the hollow ring of her voice.
"Only a few months."
"In the Circle, you don't get close to others. Some of the templars are cruel. They use any sort of affection as a way to torture the mages who are supposed to be in their care. I was only in the Circle for a few weeks when I learned that lesson. I watched two other mages tormented with their love for one another before one of them committed suicide. The other was killed by the very templars who had tormented him after he went into a rage over his lovers death. I... I don't know if I can love anymore. Not like that. And you... you deserve to be loved."
She choked on a sob and ran back toward the castle. She didn't stop until she'd locked the heavy door to her room behind her. She slumped on the bed and laid there until the ache in her chest faded and she drifted off to sleep.
Hours later, she woke in a tangled mess on the bed. Alistair's coat was still wrapped around her. She breathed his scent in deeply and felt the ache return. She climbed out of the bed and torturously twisted and bent until she'd worked her way out of the rumpled gown. She removed the few pieces of jewelry she wore and slid into a nightgown. Picking up Alistair's coat from the bed again, she knew she couldn't leave it in here to torture herself with.
Ilaria slipped quietly out her door. The hallway was barely lit by only a few torches. The silence told her the castle was sleeping. Her bare feet padded quietly down the hallways to Alistair's room. Standing outside the door, she raised her hand to knock and realized he must be sleeping. She leaned her weight against the door, trying to listen, wanting to just give in, wishing she could forget the worst of the Circle's lessons. Pulling back she folded the dress coat and laid it gently on the floor in front of the door and rushed back to her room.