Arren avoided her the next day as well. Which pained her rather more than she'd have expected it to; she'd become used to having the elf's company in their travels at least part of each day, even come to look forward to it. Flemeth was right, she decided – things like 'like' and 'love' were a distraction, something that merely granted another power over one's-self. Power that could then be used to hurt.

She resolved to avoid his company in future, at least as much as their shared journey allowed, and when he fell back to talk with her the next morning, cooling rebuffed him. He looked... disappointed, as he moved back to the front to walk beside Alistair again, and she became uncomfortably aware of how much more it bothered her, when she'd expected it to hurt less, if anything.

In late afternoon of they rounded a steep hill and came in sight of the shore of Lake Calenhad. The old ruined causeway ran down the hill to their right, stretching out across the lake toward there Kinloch Hold rose a staggering distance into the sky, the tower built in the long-ago past by the Avvar people, before the Tevinter Imperium had come into these lands and driven them away. Morrigan had seen it before, but only from a distance; she'd never had any interest in seeing it up close, being home to the Fereldan Circle of Magi as it was; their prison, in more direct and truthful terms.

Arren led the way down to the docks, Alistair striding along at his side, the rest of them trailing along behind. There was a templar standing on the end of the dock, they saw as they approached, a small rowboat tied up beside him.

"That's odd," Alistair muttered. "There should be a ferryman, and a much bigger boat."

"You! You're not looking to get across to the tower, are you? Because I have strict orders not to let anyone pass!" the guard called out as they grew near.

Alistair groaned. "I know that voice. Name's Carroll – he's a little... thick, at times," he said in an undertone.

Arren nodded to acknowledgement to Alistair, then stepped forward. "I am a Grey Warden and I seek the assistance of the mages," he said in a clear, calm voice.

"Oh, you're a Grey Warden, are you? Prove it," the templar said, crossing his arms and sneering contemptuously at the elf.

"Prove it?" Arren asked, surprised.

"Kill some darkspawn. Come on! Let's see some righteous Grey Wardening," Carroll said, making a vague gesture with a clenched fist.

Arren and Alistair exchanged a look. Alistair rolled his eyes.

"There aren't any darkspawn here," Arren pointed out.

"That's good, I suppose. Wouldn't want darkspawn smeared across the landscape. I hear their blood is black. Is that true? You'd know if you were a Grey Warden!" the templar exclaimed as if he's caught them out somehow.

"No, it's red, like any other blood," Arren explained patiently.

"I don't know... my instincts tell me darkspawn shouldn't have blood like ours..." Carroll said, frowning thoughtfully. "Anyway, it was nice chatting with you. Now on your way. Right now. Go," he continued, and made a little shoo-ing motion at them.

Morrigan began to think that Alistair's description of the man as "thick" might have been an understatement.

This was confirmed, in her opinion, when a moment later when he responded to something Arren had said by running an appraising eye over their group, then pointed directly at her, leaning over to Arren and saying in what he clearly thought was a whisper but was in fact far too carrying for such "That dark-eyed temptress over there... surely the tower would be far too dull for her. Because it gets a little lonely out here sometimes... and you know, you could just leave her with me..."

Morrigan stared at the man for a moment. Surely he wasn't suggesting what she thought he was... no, yes, obviously he was. She raised an eyebrow just slightly. "Oh. Excellent. I have been hoping for new prey," she said, letting a sultry tone creep into her voice.

"Prey?" the man said hesitantly, blinking at her like a rabbit under the fox's nose.

She turned and smiled at Arren. "'Twill take but a moment. Perhaps you should go aboard the vessel to prepare while we are away. We must row ourselves across," she said, and turned back to the templar, lowering her eyes to give him a particularly heated look, then continued, voice little more than a whisper. "I fear the lad will no longer have the use of his limbs... or his eyes, once I am done with him..."

"Er... maybe I should..." Carroll stuttered, starting to back away before remembering that he'd been standing at the end of the dock. Only a quick grab by Arren and Alistair stopped him from going over backwards into the lake, armour and all.

She laughed throatily, and clapped her hands together in delight. "Wonderful! I can sense his terror! Oh, that will make the loving all the sweeter!"

Between almost falling into the lake – a likely fatal fate, given the depth of the water and the heaviness of his armour – and her words, the poor man was pale as a sheet and trembling with fear. Arren had an almost mask-like calm look on his face, while Alistair was clearly biting back laughter. She was sure that if she looked at the others, she'd see equal amusement in the eyes of the assassin and the bard. Though the qunari would likely have his usual inscrutable expression. He could give lessons on concealing emotion to Flemeth herself.

"So you said you wanted to get across? Maybe we should go now. Right now. Now," Carroll was babbling, trying to hide from her behind Arren. "Err... only the boat is a little small. I can't take everyone! Only four!"

Arren smiled warmly, and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Yes, let's go now," he agreed. "And I'll take... let's see... Alistair, Zevran, and Morrigan. Sten and Leliana, get yourself rooms at the Inn and guard our things, please."

Sten nodded, picking up everyone's baggage, and turned to walk away. Leliana pouted once at being left out of the trip across the lake to the Circle, and then followed him off.

The templar Carroll was looking rather deflated by now. Clearly he'd hoped Morrigan would be among those left behind. He took position near the front of the rowboat, where the oars were, Alistair took the middle, and Arren and Morrigan were together in the back.

"You're a very evil woman sometimes," Arren whispered in her ear as he bent down and turned to sit beside her. "I like it."

She smiled, feeling well-pleased with herself, and finding herself in a considerably improved mood.