As promised, chapter three is here! And guess what? Alistair and Zevran actually make an appearance!

o.O.o

Meetings Ever After

o.O.o

Operation "get Valena to give up on making me wear the dress" failed spectacularly, Nimue had to admit.

Worst of all, Leliana had popped in mid-dressing and decided that she wanted to help with her hair, at the very least. Apparently, letting someone do your hair was a sign of trust in Orlais, considering the great access to your throat it gave the person. It was one of those moments when Nimue was glad that her hair stopped just past her shoulders, because some of the things the bard had suggested could have been truly frightening to experience.

Nevertheless, in the end, she had to admit that it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

The new gown was much lighter than the first and actually relatively modest; considering that it had been a father-daughter present, it was only natural, after all. Its sleeves weren't made of a dozen layers, meaning that didn't have the annoying tendency of getting in the way, she had different shoes that couldn't serve as effective stabbing weapons and the dark red color actually suited her, compared to the green.

Nimue nevertheless stared at her own reflection as if she were facing a hurlock. It just… didn't feel right. Thankfully, she had managed to reject any offers of make-up from Leliana, partly because the bard hadn't been able to find proper tools for that, partly because the line had to be drawn somewhere. But mostly because she certainly didn't want anyone (read: Teagan) assuming that there was any ulterior motive to this dressing up. She had been manipulated into it, after all. It was a conspiracy.

Somewhere, the archdemon had to be laughing its winged and tainted dragonish backside off.

"'Tis a most peculiar change of costume." a familiar voice drawled from being the elf. Had she not been giving the mirror a stunned stare, she would have plainly seen Morrigan enter and close the door quietly; the witch never knocked. The inspectional look accompanying the small smirk was something livestock might be given by a potential buyer, though it wasn't meant to be interpreted as such. "Has Leliana gotten to you at last?"

"Don't scare me like that." Nimue said, hair whipping around her face as she turned her head sharply back and forth between the witch and the mirror.

Morrigan's smirk deepened just a little. "I believe you were already frightened enough. You intend to go dine with the others in such a costume?"

"I have little choice; they refuse to give me back my robes till they're mended. And so I got this instead."

"Here I was hoping you intended to have a little fun and attempt to break the brains of those two fools." Nimue didn't have the proper attitude for that, of course, another of the many things the tower had managed to inflict upon her during her imprisonment there, but there was always the hope that it could be rectified. "'Tis a shame, for I would have actually attended the superficial gathering for that."

"I need people who can actually think following me." the elf pointed out, smoothing a bit of her skirt absent-mindedly. She had rarely needed to do that with robes, but this lighter material – was it silk, even? – seemed to be made to annoy her this way. "At least to the point of being able to listen to instruction."

"Well, that is reassuring. Now I finally see why you chose to take Alistair along."

Nimue, by now used to being the mediator between these two, wisely chose neither to defend the templar nor to condemn the witch. Her earliest companions had never been and would likely be friends. "Choice had little to do with that; he's a Grey Warden, like me. You make do with what you can get."

"But t'was your choice to spare Zevran and then bring him along." Morrigan pointed out, momentarily moving her attention to Idiot Number Two. Considering how touchy-feely that one got even when Nimue was wearing neck-high mage robes, her current neckline was liable to provoke something that would have the servants gossiping for months to come. "You may wish to memorize a few more spells for after dinner if you truly intend to go like this. Surely you understand that he will see this as encouragement." she added when the elf gave her a quizzical look.

Another thing the tower had robbed her of was the ability to see when a man had succumbed to an infatuation with her as the target; fortunately, she could still see when a man obviously lusted after her. Then again, the assassin didn't seem to have any limits when it came to lusting after people, as long as they weren't Oghren (and even Morrigan hoped he hadn't been lying about joking on that account, because that was just too disgusting even to her). Nor did he wish to keep it a secret.

"Tell me again why my mess of a love life seems to be the only thing that interests you people whenever we're not off to kill some darkspawn?" Nimue asked, exasperated, trying to pull her neckline as high as it could go without messing up the rest of the gown. A few millimeters were all she got out of that attempt.

"Why, because 'tis amusing, of course." Morrigan answered, her voice the definition of an innocent sing-song. What else were they supposed to gossip about when there was no killing to be done aside from ways to kill each other off? Well, she wouldn't really know, seeing as she preferred to avoid conversation with the others whenever possible. "There is little else to provide entertainment for everyone that doesn't involve carnage."

"Forget I asked. You're not coming to the dinner, then?" Nimue finally remembered that snippet of information, which the other woman had only hinted at.

"No. 'Tis why I came to speak with you in the first place. I intend to look around the settlement for any remains of the demon's taint." Morrigan announced. That she was actually informing Nimue of this without just heading out was a sign of respect, perhaps even a question for permission. "There could be things here that I could yet learn from. 'Twas most interesting, how the abomination acted. Desire demons are not usually entirely so frivolous."

Months ago, this would have creeped Nimue out entirely. It was a sign of experience that she barely even batted an eyelash at such talk. "Will you return to the castle afterwards?"

"If I must. I would prefer the open air once again, but spending time away from the idiot brigade will most certainly be relaxing. At the risk of sounding like our precious bard, I intend to find out how the evening went for you afterwards." For Morrigan, this would have been peculiar some time ago, but she had long since learned that there was amusement to be reaped from the antics of the fools competing for Nimue's attention. Considering their general uselessness on the long run, this was the only thing that usually justified their presence and existence.

"Surely you don't think they'll be too…" The flat look she received as an answer promptly silenced the elf.

"At times I wonder which one of us has lived most of her life isolated from this world of cities and walls you seem to consider your own, Nimue."

o.O.o

With Morrigan off, Nimue assumed that things might actually turn out peaceful that evening. Aside from her, she knew Sten would most certainly refuse attending the gathering and either camp out or get his own food. Shale, who didn't need to eat, would likely also do something else and Rabbit would most probably be left on their hands, along with his bowl of food.

Not that that didn't leave the potential for disaster. Nimue trusted her companions on the battlefield; there, they were skilled and certain, most obviously perfect choices for someone you'd want watching your back when an ogre shows up from nowhere.

She wasn't entirely certain if the same applied for a formal dinner with a noble family that was in their debt, especially after the warning she had received.

The first of the potential dinner-wreckers, she didn't want to worry about too much. Certainly Leliana's face lit up a little too much when she entered the dining hall, but Nimue decided to attribute it to the bard's enthusiasm for her own work and not any devious plots. At least with her, the mage could trust that an appropriate conduct would be followed. So that she could try to copy it, hopefully, because Nimue herself had only a vague idea what a proper code of conduct at a formal dinner might be.

"Ooh, this color suits you so very much, Nimue!" Leliana had supposed that dark red would be more suitable for a brunette like Morrigan, but the rich color offset Nimue's hair prettily, almost giving a glow to her complexion. It was the bard's masterpiece, really, the way the hair complimented the clothing. "A little more embroidery would have been nice, but simple is stylish as well!" she added now that she had the chance to finally see the finished outfit.

Discreetly, the bard glanced to see if Wynne was paying close attention to the situation, because assuming her peripheral vision was yet intact, this change of attire had promptly managed to stun the male population of the room. Even Oghren had apparently paused his drinking for a second, resuming only once it became clear that everyone else was being an idiot as well.

"I am glad to see that the gown fits, Lady Nimue." Isolde and Eamon were present as well; it was refreshing to see that the Orlesian lady was capable of speaking in a calm voice as well, not only the shrill dulcet tones of desperation.

"It does, and I thank you, but the one you sent me was sufficient; you needn't have troubled yourself, Lady Isolde."

"It is the very least I can do." Apparently, she had also become a bit more accustomed to speaking to mages, her tone a little humbler when speaking to the woman who could have very easily chosen to take the easy route and slain her son with a single spell. "Perhaps… you could talk to Connor a little later on?" she asked a little timidly as Nimue sat down in her appointed place. "The mages, they spoke to him when they were here, but apparently the tower needs to be cleaned before they can come for him and… well… maybe you could tell him a little about it? I-I wouldn't want him to be afraid of leaving, he's never been far from Redcliffe, especially not alone."

Those who hadn't known Nimue for too long or too well wouldn't have noticed the way her face hardened at such a request. "You've told him that he will be leaving for the Tower?

"Slowly… yes." Isolde nodded. "But I want him to get used to the idea first a little bit before he can absorb all the information." It was likely that she herself had not yet gotten used to the idea. Nimue suspected that only persuasion and reason from Teagan (who she tried her best not to look at too much; a difficult feat when he was seated almost directly across the table from her and most definitely observing her) had opened her up to the very possibility.

"I see. I can tell him a few things, yes." About the good that could come from magic, the control that must be learned and the power there was in using it the right way. "Is he to dine with us tonight?"

"He will come down shortly." Eamon noted when his wife seemed a little dazed still. "He has to readapt to the company of other people and you are not complete strangers to him. I suppose that some part of him still remembers your encounter in the Fade. In any case, let us not speak of the past." the arl suggested wisely, with a slight smile. "For a moment there, I thought that our sister had actually returned when I saw you in her old clothes, lady Warden. You could have given me a small warning and spared me another potential health condition, Isolde."

"My apologies, husband, I had not realized." And she had indeed not spotted the note that had been with the dress.

"Come now, Eamon, it does our sister honor, may the Maker give her rest, to have her possessions be of use to the Grey Wardens. Though I suspect gowns from her youth wouldn't be the first thing she's imagine them using for worthy purposes with such success."

This was the point where it would have been downright impolite not to look at the man complimenting her, something that would have been far easier if Nimue hadn't seen a similar tenderness in his expression hours previously in a somewhat more definite context.

"Thank you."

Wynne, who was watching discreetly, smiled slightly at her goblet as she took a sip of wine. As much good as Nimue might have been to the tower, this man could do the same amount for her. And the girl would need a way to recover after this ordeal, assuming she survived. Perhaps… perhaps this could even have a future, because it wasn't love Wynne saw there. It was the foundation of deep affection, which had great potential to transform into something greater.

If the arl saw any significance beneath this exchange, he didn't comment upon it and Lady Isolde remained the same as ever. "So, I understand that you will be heading east into the Brecillian Forest now."

"Yes, we hope to find an encampment of the Dalish there. They are the last in our list of treaties… hopefully, for once, my being elven will help us somewhat."

"There's never been a problem with that." Alistair, who had appeared quite mesmerized by this new attire (and, in Wynne's opinion, very endearingly embarrassed by his sudden fascination with Nimue's newly-revealed cleavage), regained the power of speech. "I mean, the Circle couldn't really care less at the time and the dwarves wouldn't have welcomed us any warmer unless you were one of them, so…"

"It's just that things get a little easier once you establish that we're Grey Wardens first, anything else second." Nimue noted, quoting part of her creed. Before, it had been one word instead of two - mage instead of Grey Warden - which was the extent of the change.

"Better to be feared than loved, then?" Teagan asked wryly, earning a somewhat grim look in response.

"I don't think anyone would really love seeing the Wardens showing up on their doorstep, since we apparently have a reputation for always bringing trouble. Fear, I am used to." Nimue added, without allowing the words to be colored by emotion.

A gift… and a curse…

"Magic is not something to be taken lightly. What we have seen here in Redcliffe can only confirm that. Yet if we automatically become prejudiced against mages, we only enforce their own resentment of us. It's like a charmed circle."

"Pun unintended, I suppose, Leliana?" Wynne noted, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

The bard blinked only once before cracking a smile. "Hah, yes, I suppose. Still, perhaps all the laws regarding magic aren't entirely necessary."

"A surprising opinion from a former lay sister."

"Magic can hurt people, yes, but it can also help a great deal when in the right hands." Besides, it was a fascinating phenomenon. At times, the bard even wished that she herself could wield it, quite akin to a painter creating a landscape on the canvas. "The only thing that could be regretted is that one cannot choose to study magic if the gift isn't present and must if it is."

The answer seemed to have impressed Lady Isolde, but she said no more. Perhaps she was somewhat more willing to consider mages people, now that her son had turned out to be one of them, but that was yet to be seen.

In the meantime, Wynne returned to watching the most endearing conversation that contained none of the awkwardness or depravity Nimue had likely grown used to when speaking to men with intentions towards her.

"Do you miss anything from your life prior to the Circle?"

"Care to answer, Wynne?" the elf asked, turning to her with a smile. Wynne was almost certain that it was partly because she didn't wish for things to appear as if there was any underlying focus on her in this exchange.

"I believe the question was directed more at you, my dear." Wynne would have none of it. of course, she could be a bit merciful. "But my answer would be no. Then again, I am older than you and perhaps remember a little less from my distant childhood."

"I don't think I remember much myself, but that's mostly because I didn't want to remember when I came to the tower." Nimue remarked, now forced into answering. Strangely, it was easier than she believed it would be, just talking as if it were just ordinary dinnertime conversation, like those they had over the campfire. "It looked so wonderful compared to the alienage and I knew I wouldn't be able to leave and see my parents again even if I wished to."

"Do you think that the same will happen to Connor?" Arl Eamon spoke before his wife could, but her expression spoke volumes. Of course members of the nobility would assume that the rules could be bended a little for them, even if they were just as flesh and blood as anyone else. "Might we be allowed to see him from time to time?"

The arl was hardly one to dismiss his own son as a thing simply due to his powers and would certainly not consider him dead or not his own child. After all, all that the boy had done had been for his family.

Nimue fidgeted a little in her seat, but didn't squirm under the studious eyes. "I can't promise you anything… though I do think that the Circle will be pushing for an alteration of Chantry policy after this. Some people want freedom far too badly and this happens… you can't just lock people up and expect them to accept it for the greater good. All of us are selfish to a degree."

"Prejudices are held deeply in people's hearts - it's something they cling to when faced with something they don't understand and therefore fear. It's always much easier to presume than to try and understand. First Enchanter Irving and I spoke a little before he departed for the tower." Bann Teagan added when the elf looked at him with surprise and something perilously close to admiration. "He was very forthcoming and even told me some of what transpired in the tower when Jowan tried to escape."

The day she defied the Circle…

...the day she became a candidate for the Grey Wardens.

"He told you of my involvement in that, then?" Something in her tone seemed to be voicing another question entirely: You know what I have done. You asked me nonetheless? You want me despite that?

Instead of whatever she had been expecting, she received kindness. "He said that you risked everything to help a friend, which was commendable, if foolish. His words, not mine."

And there was gentleness in that look he gave their leader, something which didn't go unnoticed by the two women who were aware of the circumstances and Zevran, who would have found polite conversations among nobles boring and irritating when it didn't involve a job. Of course, having a very agreeable angle to study Nimue's attire from helped catch his interest and from then, it was easy to observe these things. The bann was a subtler sort than Alistair and certainly nowhere near as awkward, but once you knew what you were looking for…

This could provide potential complications for two reasons. Those being that he doubted that Nimue was yet positively disposed to bedding two men simultaneously and that the probability of the human lord willing to share was even slighter, assuming he was anything like his step-nephew.

Entirely a shame. But if a choice had to be made between the two, their fair leader was the clear winner.

"I believe he was impressed, despite his disapproval. He spoke most highly of you."

"And who wouldn't?" Leliana insisted with a grin, using her proximity to temporarily wrap an arm around the elf mage's shoulders. "Don't spread the word, but she's a true sweetheart underneath it all."

"Leliana, I've already been subjected to you insisting on doing my hair." Nimue asked tiredly, but the bard had succeeded in her mission. Without any make-up, the elf's complexion had looked like parchment; pale, almost pasty and a bit sickly. When a light blush graced it, every ounce of beauty she possessed was amplified. "Must you torment me even more?"

The bard gave her a smile that was innocence and surprise itself. "Moi, ma chére?" Anyone who hadn't known the redhead for as long as Nimue would have easily missed the cheekiness in her voice. The elf was getting the distinct impression that Leliana, with her admitted techniques of transforming oneself into the kind of woman any man would fall in love with, was aware of at least something that was going on and wished to apply said techniques on an entirely untrusting subject – her. "I am but trying to make the world see you as the wonderful person you are. What else are friends for?"

"That's not really fair; you never help me with that!"

"Do you need me to, Alistair?" The bard knew the answer, of course. Those wonderfully awkward questions about how he could show a mystery woman his appreciation… ah, yes, she remembered those fondly to this day. "All you have to do is ask."

And, apparently, Alistair did too, judging by the way his eyes briefly darted to their leader and a pinkish tinge amplified on his cheeks. "I… think I'll just have some more cheese. Could you pass me some, Nimue?"

"Of course." The elf reached out for the plate without hesitation. On the other side of the table, Zevran was trying to decide if Alistair was actually aware of how this charming motion would emphasize the delights her neckline was so cruelly concealing. No chance of that, if the general obliviousness of the man was anything to go by. However, this was a very, very solid argument to start a small-scale war of wills, because the spoils were most definitely worth it. "The usual kind?"

"It's good to see that the two of you are getting along so well. Successful cooperation is the first key step to success."

For someone who had been angered and out of touch with the man who was practically his uncle, Alistair could certainly grin goofily with greater ease when they were discussing cheese and when Nimue was the one handing it to him. "Yeah, I had to fill her in on the Grey Warden "everyone has to smile and get along" policy. I think I've managed to get her trained."

"Yes, Alistair is the true mastermind behind things." Nimue admitted, struggling to keep her voice serious. "He's just letting me think that I'm leading us, so that he can swoop in and get all the glory in the end."

"And you're completely unaware of this." Alistair mimicked what he likely presumed to be movements a blood mage might make when enthralling an unsuspecting victim. He even squinted a little to make the effect all the more lifelike.

The sample of lilting laughter she offered was most definitely something to be craved. "Naturally. It wouldn't be amusing otherwise, would it?" she suggested, returning her attention to the food.

The rest of the meal continued pleasantly enough, even though a servant eventually came to apologize that Connor had fallen asleep over a book, of all things, and would likely deserve not to be disturbed. As everyone was trying their best to avoid conversing about the darkspawn or the attack on Redcliffe – since this was supposed to be a pleasant dinner, not a tactical meeting – the topics were a bit limited and thus mostly revolved around Nimue and Wynne telling the more pleasant tales from their mage days. It wasn't an entirely subtle way of assuring Isolde that Connor was going to be all right – Nimue still hadn't entirely forgiven the woman for thinking with her Connor-centered heart, if she had been thinking at all, and torturing Jowan, despite his part in the debacle – but it worked, to a degree.

But Leliana's keen eyes were watching the situation carefully, and she steered the conversation back to its proper path once or twice when it strayed from Nimue too much. She was actually enjoying this little manipulation, despite not having any particular strong opinion regarding any outcome. The elf mage was beginning to suspect her, yes, but she could deal with that eventually. Right now, she intended to make certain that the woman who had stood up to a broodmother without vomiting and running away (possibly in the reverse order) wouldn't try to do the latter after such a sweet marriage proposal.

And, of course, the fun would no doubt get a little more heated soon enough, because she was under the impression that Zevran, at least, had caught on a little bit. It wasn't entirely unusual for the assassin to be silent at such a gathering (because compromising Nimue's integrity just for fun was the one thing that obviously wasn't his intention), but, being a former bard, Leliana could read expressions relatively well, even if they were carefully-measured beforehand.

This hunch was to be thoroughly confirmed a little later on, though Leliana wouldn't be able to see it first-hand.

Nothing overly telling or affectionate had transpired between the elf mage and her newest suitor; presumably, Teagan's manners were too well-bred to invade the lady's personal space to persuade her in any manner while she was deciding on whether or not to accept his proposal. They had simply said goodnight to one another cordially, as they would have to the rest of the people present. Only the moment when they looked at each other was a little longer than it had to be. Nimue had been the first to look away and leave.

There were others who didn't have any such inhibitions to restrict them, of course.

Nimue had almost made it to her room when a pair of arms snaked their way around her waist, holding her in place. Considering that she hadn't heard the person approach and there seemed to be no servants around at this time of the evening (as most of them were cleaning the dining hall) was enough cause not to yelp. It was also a bit beneath her dignity to do so when she could employ shock spells instead.

Before she could, though, there was the sensation of warm breath on her neck and something in her ribcage clenched shut, as if doused with icy water.

"Might I just say that you look entirely ravishing in clothes such as these, my dear?" Zevran spoke without any kind of pretext or apology at creeping upon her like this, which was another thing she had gotten used to over the past months.

Nimue tried to mildly shrug the grip off, but it was rather firm. Instead, she turned around, which she instantly regretted. "You've said it already, so I can hardly refuse, can I?"

"True…" She had cause to regret it as well, because the man most definitely had absolutely no sense of personal space and barely allowed her to back away a bit. "I wouldn't mind doing a little ravishing myself, either…" The smile accompanying these words should have melted her resistance, but succeeded at freezing something in her as well.

Even if she wanted such things – and Nimue hadn't known the answer to that even before having received the proposal of marriage from Teagan – she wouldn't have known how and if to allow herself to venture there.

"Judging by the way Arl Eamon reacted when he saw me like this, if anything were to happen to the dress, I'd get killed. So I'm afraid I'll have to graciously decline."

Zevran's smile didn't falter one bit and despite the crudeness of the suggestion, part of Nimue was for considering it, at least. "I can give you my solemn oath that I will be most careful when pulling it off your delightful body."

"I'm leaving now." Nimue interjected before she could discover any further recklessness within herself. Allowing this was quite dangerous in itself. With that, she backed away, this time allowed to do so.

Of course, that wasn't yet the finishing blow, because the assassin sighed most melodramatically. "And yet again I must contend myself with the dreams you inspire. Such a vision of you to haunt me even in my sleep… you, my dear, are utterly cruel." he chided with just a hint of playfulness. Something told Nimue that even if she indeed were cruel, he wouldn't mind one bit.

Especially considering the almost unnervingly penetrating look he was giving her; how could anyone maintain eye contact and still give the other person the impression that they were naked and about to be devoured?

"Goodnight, Zevran." She broke her own train of thought firmly, turning on her heel and walking away to her part of the castle.

The sensation of being the prey of an entirely too gleeful predator didn't subside one bit. "It can still get better, should you change your mind…"

She must have actually gritted her teeth just a little as she took a turn to stop herself from deigning that remark with a response. It was still a victory of sorts, that she didn't give a firm refusal…

The assassin smirked to himself a little bit. If the little humans wished to pit their skill at seduction against him for such a delightful prize, well, who was he to refuse them?

o.O.o

Next chapter: Enter Oghren. That is all.