She scrambles out of the blade's path, throwing herself around the last minute to swing her sword in a wide arc. Her opponent stumbles back with a cry and hesitates for just a moment – a moment that is enough for her charge at him and get close enough to make his sword useless. He seems shocked at her sudden closeness and then she brings her dagger up, burying it in his unprotected armpit and rips it out again, opening up vein and flesh. The shock doesn't leave his face as he falls to the knees and she steps back, eyes scanning the alleyway. There is nobody left standing, except for the blond haired man she stumbled upon and as she turns to him, he drops to his knees and lifts his eyes to the sky, almost as if in a trance. She notices the arrow in his shoulder and blood soaking into his tunic and she quickly walks towards him, putting away her weapons. They are full of blood, but she doesn't have the time to clean them now – more thugs will arrive any minute.
"Are you okay?", she asks carefully and his eyes dart back to her, only slowly focusing. For a moment she hesitates, blinks in puzzlement. There is something familiar about him, something about the line of his jaw and the way he cocks one eyebrow at her as though he wouldn't be on his knees, bleeding. "Not sure", he utters and shakes his head as if to clear it, "I'd 'bably go for no." His words sound slurred and as she leans in a bit closer to examine the wound, she notices why. He smells of stale beer and cheap wine and somewhere in there is the scent of sweat and blood. As she grabs his chin and makes him turn his head so she can get a better look of his eyes, the glassiness of his eyes gives her the last hint. "You're drunk", she says and crinkles her nose in disgust. "Piss drunk", he corrects her happily and has the nerve to nod, as though it is a big accomplishment. "Great", she snorts and lets go off his chin as she looks behind herself to make sure they are still alone on the street. It doesn't take her more than a moment, but it's enough time to decide that since she apparently broke him, she'd have to fix him. Somehow. Or at least make the bleeding stop.
"Alright, come on, get up! We're leaving this place!", she tells him and turns towards him. He makes no signs of doing that, so she moves closer and sees that he's watching the stars again. His pupils are dilated and he seems to have forgotten her presence again, because he starts to chuckle all of a sudden, flinching as the arrow is moved by the shaking of his shoulders. "What jus' happened?", he inquires almost casually and she sighs, shrugging as she moves to his right side – the side that is not pierced with an arrow. "Would you remember if I told you, anyways?", she shoots back and carefully lifts his arm to slip underneath it, putting one arm around his middle as she presses her weight against him and wills him to stand up. He complies, very slowly, and groans as he stumbles to his feet. He is heavier than he looks and she has a hard time keeping them both steady enough to not fall flat on their faces. "What're you doin'?", he asks full of curiosity, but follows readily enough as she starts to move away from the place. Being this close to him, she can say with certainty that there is also a certain flavor of rum and maybe smoke in that lovely aroma that has taken residence in his hair and clothes and on his skin. "Hell if I know", she answers and directs them down a flight of stairs into a dark alley. It is a short cut and the darkness envelopes them immediately, hiding them from prying eyes. She doesn't see very well herself, though, and can only hear and feel the rat that scurries away as they pass, running over her foot as it does so. He stumbles and she muffles a surprised groan as she has to keep him from falling forward. His shoulders are hunched and he blinks rapidly, shaking his head as if he is getting dizzy, so she quickly pushes him back against the wall and holds him against it.
"Don't faint", she snaps and prays that he won't, because there is no way she would be able to move him far if he did. "'m not faintin'", he mumbles and almost sounds as though he's insulted by the very idea. She sees the tremble in his body, as he fights to stay conscious and quickly moves forward, placing her hand against his chest and pressing him flush against the wall. "Hey, look at me!", she commands and desperately puts a hand to his cheek to make him turn his head towards her, his skin awfully hot underneath her fingers. He flinches away from her, but still turns his head and their eyes meet. "You are Ferelden, right?", she asks, already knowing the answer. The accent has given him away. She doesn't even allow him time to answer, probing further: "What's your name?"
He hesitates for a moment, then looks away and shrugs, immediately wincing as the pain lances through his shoulder. "Alistair", he answers. And then, his nose crinkling in a sudden fit of childish antics, he adds: "'n that's my personal space you're constantly invadin'." She almost laughs, but instead shakes her head and steps back, allowing him to lean on her again, as they proceed on their way. "Oh, how you hurt my feelings", she says and concludes that he isn't as bad off as she has feared. His answer is a mere grunt, as they slowly draw closer to their aim. "My deepest apol… ap'gies, bu' you'd have to buy me dinner first." Maybe it is the adrenaline or the absurdity of the situation or perhaps he has hit his head harder than she thought, but he starts chuckling again and she joins in, warily shaking her head. "Why're you doin' this?", he then suddenly asks as though she is in the process of stripping naked dance under the moonlight.
She is unsure how to handle that question and casts him a side glance, but he is still looking ahead, fully concentrated on setting one foot in front of the other. It hadn't been something she actually actively decided to do. "Would you rather I'd have let you sit there in that street until those guys' friends showed up?", she replies instead and he doesn't answer. The rest of the way, they don't talk and when they finally reach the shabby little house at the docks, neatly nestled away in some dark corner, she sighs with relief.
She raps her knuckles against the door as quietly as possible and whispers "It's me!" and then the door opens and she moves inside with him. They haven't even fully entered, when she is almost knocked down by a brown mass that is all wagging tail and curious whines. "Calm down, boy! Give me a minute. Just a second, alright? I'm alright, don't worry", she tells the mabari, who anxiously circles her and the man she brought with her, sniffing at his trousers and his hand and backing away with a sneeze.
She hears the door being closed behind her and then a blond elf appears at her side, his vivid green eyes wide with surprise and worry. "What happened? Are you alright? We have been waiting for over an hour!", he says and glances at Alistair, brows crinkling as his eyes land on the blood seeping through the simple tunic. "Help me get him on the bed, we need to stop the bleeding and remove the arrow. I got into a bit of trouble, I'll explain it to you later", she answers and the elf nods and moves to Alistair's other side.
"'m kinda confused", Alistair admits in that moment and now that she sees him in the faint light of the candles, she realizes how pale he looks. The adrenaline has probably worn off by now, but he still doesn't look like he is in much pain. They set him down on the bed and her mabari is instantly at her side, pushing his head against her, whining and sniffing the air. "'n just remembered tha' I 'bably shouldn't follow strange women home", he adds when nobody answers him.
"Well, too late for that, isn't it?", she answers and removes her belt together with her weapons, putting it aside quickly. "Nelaros, could you boil water and get some fresh bandages? Put some elfroot in the water, if we have any left, and then bring me the iodine." The elf nods and immediately moves to work, not without raising one eyebrow at her. "I think I poked into a bee's nest. One moment I thought I'd found the man and then I was being swarmed over my all kinds of thugs. Thankfully they were rather surprised by my fire bombs. As I escaped I ran into-", she starts to explain, but is cut off by Alistair's abrupt laughter. "Ran into?", he repeats. He has his eyes closed, as though the light of the candles is hurting them, and beads of sweat have formed on his forehead. "-our guest, Alistair", she completes her sentence, ignoring him as she grabs the iodine Nelaros brings her. "He helped and got wounded. I brought him with me, since there were more of those idiots to be expected", she finishes her explanation and carefully examines the arrow shaft. It sits high and has undoubtedly hit bone and she has no idea if the tip is barbed or not.
The tunic is ruined and has probably been for some weeks now, so she doesn't hesitate long in her decision and pulls the knife from her boot to cut it open down the front of his chest. His eyes fly open wide: "Helpin' me by gettin' me naked?" He sounds scandalized and even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to chuckle. "I promise I won't take advantage of you", she assures him and puts the knife aside. Nelaros appears at her side again, putting down bandages and an injury kit. "You are undoubtedly better off without it anyways", the elf supplies and then looks at her, the worry still evident in his eyes. "You should have brought Grimm and me along, my lady", he admonishes her and the war hound sitting at her side utters a loud, confirmative bark.
She is about to answer, but is rendered speechless when she brushes the rests of Alistair's tunic off his healthy shoulder. The way he moved while fighting and the fact that even this drunk he had downed his enemy without receiving any grave wounds had already been an obvious sign that he is or was a soldier. Maybe a soldier who fled Ferelden in the wake of the Blight, searching new hope overseas, but finding only more despair as so many others had. But as she is staring at his chest, she can't help but swallow heavily. She has seen her fair share of scars – she has some very nasty ones herself. But this… this is far worse. All the scars are healed nicely, but the sheer amount of them – slashes from claws running down over his shoulder, a burn stretched out over his upper arm, three markings left by different arrows. An almost imperceptible curve where a bit of muscle has been bitten out of his lower arm. A long and broad scar over his lower torso from a wound that could only have been deadly. And yet here he was sitting, squinting against the light, piss drunk and only slightly inconvenienced by the arrow in his shoulder. She hesitates to removes the rest of his shirt and shares a quick glance with Nelaros, who has come to stand beside her, a bowl of water in his hands. Only when Grimm moves towards the bed and put his big paws on it to prop himself up and carefully sniff at Alistair, she finally reaches out to remove the rest of his tunic. More scars are revealed and she does her best not to analyze them. As Grimm touches his nose to Alistair's cheek, they both jerk back and stare at each other for a moment. "Bet he's yours", Alistair comments and brushes a hand over his cheek. Grimm replies with a bark, sneezing again as he moves away from the bed and behind her. He has undoubtedly gotten a good nose full the perfume of alcohol and gutter and doesn't like it very much.
She rolls her eyes and tries not to breath in too much through her nose as she starts working, peeling away fabric, carefully prodding the entry-wound and formulating a plan on how to remove it. After just a few moments she notices that he is staring at her, brows furrowed as he leans closer until they almost bump heads. "What are you doing?", she demands to know and pulls back a bit, giving him a once-over. "You look fuzzy", he says as though that explains everything. "I'm not fuzzy, you're drunk", she corrects him and puts a hand on his good shoulder, pushing him back again.
"Hah. So you say", he replies and looks around the room, still squinting. She is pretty sure he cannot make out much. Shaking her head she gets up again and taps her hand against Grimm's head, making him follow close behind her. Nelaros turns around when she reaches him and looks behind her towards Alistair. "Are you sure this is a good idea?", he asks and she sighs and brushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't think he's a bad guy. Just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I couldn't leave him there", she answers quietly. "Fine. But you are bleeding too, my lady, we should look after that", the elf says and she casts him a stern glance. "Don't call me that", she tells him almost automatically and without really thinking about it. "It's just a shallow cut – first we look after him. We need to remove the arrow. I don't think there's any other way than to just pull it out, it's in pretty deep. It'll hurt, though. I hope he's drunk enough not to feel too much."
The words have barely left her mouth, when she hears a faint grunt and a hoarsely whispered "Ouch" and when she turns around, Alistair is holding the rest of the arrow in one hand, while he dispassionately dabs at the bleeding wound in his shoulder with one of the bandages with the other hand. "What did you just do?", she snaps and hastily moves to his side, swatting his hand away and picking up a bandage, pouring some iodine over it, to disinfect the wound and start to clean it. He flinches and closes his eyes again, taking deep breaths. She almost doesn't expect him to answer any more, when he finally raises his voice again. "Still don't know your name", he mutters and winces as she prods him to check for leftover pieces of wood or metal. She looks up shortly and wonders if he's already asleep, but then he cracks one eye open to look at her. "My name is Aífe", she says and he nods slowly. His gaze fixes on the candle sitting on the table beside him and watches the shadows dance around it, quietly mumbling to himself.
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Author's Note: Finally the next chapter. J Thanks to all of you who have put this on Story Alert and especially thanks for the lovely reviews! They really, really make my day every time I read them. I am still not completely satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but Alistair wouldn't stop being a smartass, sooo… that's how it went. I hope you enjoyed it.
I also want to apologize for mistakes in here, I read over it several times but I'm pretty sure there is still the one or other spelling error hidden. If anybody would be interested to work as a beta-reader, I'd be eternally grateful and happy! =) It really makes things easier to discuss a chapter and have somebody take a look at it. In any case, hope you liked it and I'm always open for suggestions/ideas.