I don't own nothing 'bout no Dragon Age! (Please excuse the terrible reference to Gone with the Wind. I do love that novel though.)
Lilliwyn is my awesome beta-reader. Go check out her stories if you haven't already!
Enjoy the chapter. Please remember to leave me a review or message when you finish!
Cirrenes was keenly aware of her position when she awoke the next morning, her mind exhausted from the catharsis that had taken place the previous evening. She could feel the beginnings of a crick in her neck as she slowly pushed herself upright, her hazy vision clearing once she looked up into the sultry and strangely comforting brown eyes of one Zevran Arainai.
Nearly as a reflex, Cirrenes shuffled back from Zevran, the assassin visibly frowning at her reaction. "Sorry, Zev...I was caught a bit off guard," Cirrenes sighed, one of her hands easily threading through her hair. "I don't suppose you know if the messengers have left for Denerim yet, do you?" Cirrenes then asked, Zevran cocking an eyebrow in her direction.
"I have taken the liberty of sealing your letter addressed to the King and finding the men traveling to Denerim, though not without earning a rather cold glare from one of your men: the tall, perpetually-frowning one. Surely you know of whom I speak," Zevran answered easily, Cirrenes allowing a wry smile onto her features. "I suspect there is no reward for such a task?" Zevran continued, the Commander smiling despite herself.
"Certainly you would not expect such a prize from a friend, Zevran," Cirrenes admonished teasingly, her memories concerning the gifts she had given the elf during the Blight suddenly coming to mind. "I would like to...thank you. Last evening was not something I hope to repeat in the future," Cirrenes murmured quietly, the Commander finally moving from the mattress to her feet.
She had sobbed endlessly into Zevran's chest for most of the evening and well into the wee hours of the morning, the elf saying little though keeping his arms around her for comfort and as a reminder that she was most certainly not alone. Zevran had had no idea that her pain ran so deep, though he was not surprised by the turn of events. Alistair had been a rather...close-minded companion during their travels, and Zevran suspected he had done little to repair the damage that had occurred between he and his queen. "That is not something you need to thank me for, my dear. Had I such inclinations to cry, your bosom would be the first I cling to, though sadly Wynne is not here should you be busy killing darkspawn," Zevran attempted to lighten the mood, Cirrenes merely rolling her eyes with a smile.
"Zevran, I would like to ask you a favor, if you don't mind," Cirrenes began, Zevran lifting an eyebrow that clearly conveyed he wished her to continue. "You see, I will be traveling to Highever, and since I will be sending my fellow Grey Wardens to recruit whilst I am there, I had hoped you might join me," Cirrenes placed her request, Zevran blinking once while digesting the information.
"I can scarcely think of anything more scandalous than for a married woman to travel unaccompanied with an elf who has not only tried to kill her and her husband in the past, but who has also expressed romantic interest in her," Zevran stated wanly, Cirrenes' lips pursing. She had not thought of the political implications and possible ramifications of such an action, and now that they had been unearthed, perhaps Zevran had a point.
"If you do not wish to go, Zevran, please speak plainly," Cirrenes instructed, her tone bordering between teasing and sincere.
"It is not so much a matter of wanting to accompany you, my Grey Warden; I am merely trying to take into account what Alistair and the royal court will think should they discover such a...precarious situation," Zevran continued, the assassin well-versed in politics and how best to avoid potentially life-threatening situations, specifically those involving his person.
"I would suggest taking some soldiers with us from the Keep, but our numbers here are too few to spare anyone," Cirrenes bit her lip, the Commander pacing back and forth at Zevran's side. "Perhaps my brother will have some men to spare when we depart Highever," Cirrenes asserted, Zevran's arms crossing as he gave her a skeptical look. The Castle at Highever had seen many horrors in the past years, and would not just bounce back after a while's reparations.
"If I did not know better, Cirrenes, I would assume that should the King find out, you would simply ignore him," Zevran stated, the redhead offering him a small, guilty smile for his accuracy.
"Alistair's feelings, I'm afraid, are not my top priority. I believe I made that abundantly clear at the Landsmeet. However, Ferelden is in dire need for Grey Wardens, and for that to happen, we need to recruit. Allow me to dress and write a few more letters to Grey Wardens outside of Ferelden. I also need to inform my comrades of their new assignments," Cirrenes expected Zevran to nod appropriately and leave the room, the elf instead surprising her by grinning in a remarkably lecherous manner. "Zevran, when I asked that you allow me to dress, I presumed you would leave the room while I did so," Cirrenes then pointed out, an expectant look pointed in Zevran's direction.
"Mark my words, my Grey Warden, a day will yet come where you will ask me quite the opposite," Zevran winked once before disappearing into the corridor, Cirrenes moving to deftly lock the door after he had left. Releasing a quiet sigh, Cirrenes turned to her armor stand before removing her sleeping gown and starting the mind-numbing process of buckling the leather armor onto her body.
Standing again once she finished dressing more appropriately for travel, Cirrenes unlocked her door should someone need her and sat at her desk once more, a quill and bottle of ink at the ready. She would need to contact Weisshaupt, and would most likely contact Orlais as well, given the country's proximity to Ferelden. She was also tempted to draft letters to the Free Marches and perhaps Antiva or Nevarra, but decided she would first see how recruitment in Ferelden went before getting that desperate. No need to alarm the foreign countries and seem weak when there wasn't a need for it.
Signing her final letter, Cirrenes allowed the missives to dry before folding them and addressing them appropriately. The air in the hallway proved to be colder than the stale air in her bedchambers, the pieces of parchment clutched in her hand as she entered the throne room. "Varel, I would ask that you send messengers to Orlais and Weisshaupt, respectively with these. I believe it is high time I attempted at allies, and Maker knows we need more Wardens here," Cirrenes finished before handing him the missives.
"Of course, My Lady. Though I'm sure you are aware that traveling to the Anderfels and Orlais will be no small task," Varel alerted her, Cirrenes waving off his concerns.
"I am well aware, 'tis why I have written them now instead of waiting even longer," Cirrenes remarked, Varel inclining his head respectfully before Cirrenes turned her head towards the door. Oddly enough, her companions were nowhere to be found...
"I do not know what to make of it," Justice stated, the others nodding their heads in agreement. "You are all more aware of the Commander's feelings than I," he then continued, Cirrenes appearing in the doorway though pausing when she heard herself mentioned. Perhaps 'tis time I learned what they truly think of me, Cirrenes quietly leaned against the door-frame, her silhouette out of sight though her ears easily discerning what was being said.
"I saw the elf outside her bedroom door last night; it was obvious he was snooping," Sigrun threw in her two cents, the others not wholly convinced.
"Perhaps it was only I who noticed, but she seemed rather...distressed when she left for her resting chambers," Velanna added, the elf pondering just what could have upset the Commander so.
"Do you think it's the King?" Nathaniel wondered aloud, Sigrun and Anders grimacing at the thought while Oghren remained thoughtful, a look which Cirrenes did not often see upon the dwarf's countenance.
"Heh, you don't know the half of it, kid," Oghren's tone was teasing at first, his somber gaze finally dipping into the tankard of ale in his hands. "Not the happy-ever-after I'm sure they thought it'd be," Oghren muttered, Sigrun and Anders exchanging a look.
"Zevran explained their falling out last night. Something about Loghain and keeping him alive instead of killing him," Anders hesitated, the mage looking up and meeting several pairs of eyes.
They...knew? Cirrenes could feel her heart constrict within her chest, the mention of Alistair a painful one. Deciding to divert the group's attention, Cirrenes swallowed back her uneasiness before stepping into the mess hall, the group instantly chatting about the sudden rise in price of ale or the foul temper Wade had been in earlier that morning.
"I had no idea you were all so friendly," Cirrenes commented slyly, her arms crossing her chest. This abruptly halted all conversation, some of the group hiding their sheepishness far better than others. Nathaniel remained impassive as did Velanna, Anders fidgeting nervously in his chair. "I'm afraid I've decided who will go where concerning more recruitment," Cirrenes then pulled a chair away from an empty table before plopping into it. "Oghren, I want you and Anders to go to Orzammar," Cirrenes looked to the dwarf in question, Anders loudly protesting his partner with particular fervor.
"You can't be serious, Commander!" Anders had no desire to travel alone with the foul-smelling dwarf, though he was nearly certain Oghren shared a similar sentiment.
"Perhaps you would care to lead the Grey Wardens, then, Anders?" Cirrenes replied quietly, the mage swallowing any response he would have given. Her gaze lingering briefly on Anders' unhappy mien, she instead turned to Velanna. "You and Sigrun will seek out nearby Dalish clans for any recruits they may have or wish to give you," Cirrenes ordered subtly, Velanna inclining her head tacitly.
"Nathaniel, I would like you to remain here with Justice to oversee Amaranthine, but also to question the Constable whether he has men suitable for service to the Grey Wardens," Cirrenes stated, the Howe understanding his duty and bowing his head respectfully. "I will take Zevran and head to Highever; should any of you need assistance, please address letters either here or Highever. And Nathaniel, should something occur in my absence, I'm certain the King and Denerim would little mind aiding you," Cirrenes tried to cover her bases, the group eerily silent for once.
"Once you find your recruits, bring them immediately back to the Keep to undergo the Joining, and be careful not to reveal too much information beforehand; no need to scare away potential men," Cirrenes added the last bit with a dry expression. "Be safe, my friends," Cirrenes attempted at smile, her lips hardly forming more than a grimace.
The group disbanded moments later, dread beginning to seep through the Commander's thoughts. She had little to worry about, though, hadn't she? All of her allies were strong, and had proven their worth and then some by the journey against the Mother. Taking a deep breath, Cirrenes opened her eyes only to spot Anders still milling around nearby, the mage pausing before meeting her eyes. His lips twisted into a small smile, the blond subsequently tripping and losing his balance over a rather misplaced table leg. Cirrenes withheld her grin at his antics, Ser Pounce-a-lot appearing moments later to see what had caused the fuss. "I do hope you are more skilled against darkspawn than you are at fighting chairs, Anders," Cirrenes could not contain the flirtatious remark, Anders lifting an eyebrow.
"I'll just have to hope the darkspawn don't know my weakness then, won't I?" Anders replied easily, Cirrenes laughing despite herself. Now if only you knew what the weakness actually was, Anders inwardly sighed, the Commander excusing herself before leaving Anders alone once again.
"Mrow?" Ser Pounce-a-lot seemed to understand his owner's distress, Anders sighing before leveling a gaze at his beloved feline companion.
"I know, I know. There isn't much I can do about that," Anders sighed once again, his mind wandering briefly to just what he would take with him to Orzammar. He shouldn't have been surprised he had been lumped with the dwarf as a traveling companion; he only hoped he would never get to experience it ever again.
"He almost makes me nostalgic for the templars," Anders sighed rather dramatically, the mage finally heading for his own quarters to pack for his soon departure.
The next morning came rather quickly upon Vigil's Keep, Cirrenes and her companions adequately preparing for what would be more than a few day's journey, especially where Oghren and Anders were traveling. The packs carried between her and Zevran were filled with necessary items, though kept light purposefully since they would be traveling on foot and not horseback. Mounts would have made things infinitely easier, but Ferelden had staunchly refused them if only out of a stubborn and dearly-held belief that it would convert them into Orlesians.
Her eyes locked briefly with Zevran's before she nodded in his direction, the other four Wardens checking their own packs or securing weapons. "Commander," Cirrenes smiled as Nathaniel approached, the Howe looking a little thrown off balance with the title. "I trust I won't have to worry about the Keep being burned down in my absence," she remarked a bit teasingly, Nathaniel about to respond before Anders' raised voice interrupted, the mage apparently angry with Oghren. "I shouldn't be gone longer than a fortnight, Nathaniel. And don't forget to look among the Constable's men for recruits," Cirrenes reminded him, Zevran noting inwardly that she was acting rather like a mother leaving her child for the first time.
"You needn't worry," Nathaniel assured her, his eyes straying to Anders who was still arguing with Oghren rather emphatically.
"You can't just use my packs for your ale!" Anders insisted, Oghren growling some type of response before Cirrenes decided it was better she stay out of the squabble lest she lose what remained of her tattered sanity.
"Now, if Morrigan were here, she would have turned Oghren into a toad by now, to be certain," Zevran commented slyly, Cirrenes smiling at his comment. She could instantly recall the many times Alistair had expressed his concern for earning such a fate, especially from the Witch of the Wild in question.
"I suppose...we shouldn't dally any longer, Zev," Cirrenes gazed briefly at her elven companion before securing her packs once more out of habit than actual necessity. "Stay safe; and if anything should delay you in your return to the Keep, send correspondence so we don't assume the worst," Cirrenes gave her final order before departing for Highever. Sigrun and Velanna quickly followed their leave, Oghren and Anders finally deciding on a suitable compromise before heading out to Orzammar.
"Perhaps we should set up camp, Cirrenes," Zevran spoke at her side, the sun nearly blinding them as they continued in their northwestern direction.
"There is a small village nearby; I was hoping to make it there before camping," Cirrenes explained quickly and concisely, a small, dog-eared map of Ferelden in her hands. The journey thus far had been rather quiet, though Cirrenes was grateful for the time to think. True, it was unusual for Zevran to not wonder aloud at her rather brooding exterior, but she assumed, hoped really, that he knew better than to pester her. "With any luck, they'll have an inn," Cirrenes spoke again, Zevran wary though not voicing his feelings. So long as this town reminded him little of Haven, he could foresee no difficulties in remaining there for one night.
Soon enough a few houses came into view, a few people still out and about around their homes and the small marketplace running through the entire town. A few ladies stopped and stared at the two as they entered, the gossipers doing little to keep their voices down and their opinions to themselves. "Zevran-" Cirrenes stopped speaking dead away when she turned to her side, the elf not there. "I wonder...," Cirrenes instead turned to the two gossipers, the middle-aged women blushing as Zevran spoke to them rather eloquently.
"I should have known," Cirrenes shook her head, a small smile perched on her lips despite her irritation. "I do hope you managed to glean some information from them before promising to bed them both this evening," Cirrenes lifted an eyebrow with a sly expression as Zevran returned to her side, the elf allowing his smile to manifest into a smirk.
"My dear Warden, I am appalled. To think you have such a low opinion of my intentions and tastes...I am hurt," Zevran reminded Cirrenes of the night when he first appeared in the Vigil, the Commander merely sighing before Zevran drove his point to the heart of the matter. "As it is, however, they informed me just where the inn is located, how much a room costs, how many rooms are available, and that we make a rather handsome pair," Zevran grinned wickedly at the last revelation, Cirrenes blushing before turning her head away.
"I do hope you corrected their error," Cirrenes mumbled, the heat hardly abating from her cheeks before she looked at Zevran once more.
"I hardly think it would have mattered, my dear. They would simply have assumed we were trying to hide whatever trysts they believe we have taken part in," Zevran answered crisply.
"You've a point there, my friend, but perhaps we best not loiter here. I would rather not people find out just who I am," Cirrenes was understandably nervous that people would recognize her, either as the Queen or the Hero of Ferelden. Though, the town busybodies hadn't noticed, and as such Cirrenes reasoned so long as she was careful she had little to worry about in lieu of being recognized.
"Indeed. A mob makes for quite a disorderly state, and an excellent one for assassins at that," Zevran noted, Cirrenes assuming he had performed such a duty in those conditions before.
The Mabari Fang Inn appeared well-lit, a tavern inside the front door littered with men who had obviously been working the fields or in mines all day. Tankards of ale were clutched in most of the men's hands, the workers not noticing as the two entered and bypassed the tables to speak to the owner.
"Hello. We would like a room for the night," Cirrenes approached the innkeeper with a friendly expression, his graying hair clumsily combed over what looked to be a bald spot on the top of his head.
"That'll be ten silvers, Ma'am," the man's voice was deep, kind, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity. "You'll be wanting anything else? My wife's a decent enough cook, Maker help her," he continued with a degree of fondness in his voice, Zevran exchanging a look with the Commander.
"If it isn't too much trouble," Cirrenes acquiesced, Zevran not particularly approving of such an action though not speaking his mind and upsetting the innkeeper.
"The men here get a little out of control when they're completely gone, Ma'am. Just thought I'd warn you since most women around here don't exactly...meet your standards," the innkeeper tried his best not to insult the women of the town or his wife.
"Of course. If you would give me the key to our room, I will not trouble you or your customers with another appearance until morning," Cirrenes promised, the Grey Warden not concerned about staying in the room all evening. Her feet ached more than she cared to admit, and she would not move more than absolutely necessary.
After procuring the key to their room and enduring some suggestive remarks from Zevran, Cirrenes happily sighed once the door opened, the roomy mattress her first destination. "Remaining at the Keep has made me weak," Cirrenes mumbled, the Commander all but sprawling onto the bed, her eyes closing.
"We shall have to correct that occurrence then," Zevran returned, the assassin starting when a feeble knock sounded on the door.
"No need to be so jumpy, Zev. 'Tis only the food we asked for," Cirrenes made no move to leave the mattress any time soon, her companion merely lifting an elegant eyebrow before turning and opening the door.
"Holy Andraste! Aren't you the Grey Warden?" the woman gasped, Cirrenes wondering how in Thedas the woman could possibly have known that, especially when she hadn't even spoken a single word to the woman.
"'Twould be appreciated were you to keep my appearance here low-key, Miss," Cirrenes stated softly, the woman wide-eyed though nodding dumbly before Zevran pushed the door closed.
"Perhaps there is something to this Grey Warden business after all. It would seem that being a Grey Warden would have all the more women throwing themselves at my feet," Zevran noted with a hint of astonishment, Cirrenes laughing at the statement.
"I apologize, Zevran. I should have informed you of all the women that come to the Keep for that sole purpose to whom I must inform that I am married. 'Twould make it all the easier for their broken hearts to be swayed by your honeyed words, surely," Cirrenes carried on with the charade, Zevran nearly ready to ask if she were serious. "Let us eat. I do hope this will be enough...," Cirrenes hadn't taken into account her ravenous appetite when they had requested sustenance, her weariness overtaking her hunger in that moment.
The rest of the evening was a quiet affair despite Zevran's wish to continue their conversation regarding the women Cirrenes had mentioned. "Zevran...," Cirrenes stole his attention easily, the Commander looking a bit sheepish before continuing. "I would like to change clothes. Would you mind...turning around?" Cirrenes placed her request, Zevran's arms crossing over his chest.
"I assure you that you possess nothing which I have not already seen, but if it will set your mind at ease," Zevran did not look angry by the request, but Cirrenes could sense his disappointment. Pursing her lips, Cirrenes quickly removed her armor, the metal clasps banging a few times when she placed everything onto the floor at her bedside.
"All right. I'm decent, more or less," Cirrenes attempted at a joke, the Grey Warden not missing the half smile perched on Zevran's lips when he turned around to face her once again.
When it was clear Zevran had similar ideas, Cirrenes could scarcely keep the blush from her cheeks as she averted her eyes; Is the Maker trying to tempt me into infidelity? Given, I doubt Alistair would much care at this point, but all the same...
Moving as close to the edge of the mattress as she could without falling to the floor, Cirrenes tried not to think about the warm body within reach on her other side; I'm being ridiculous. Zevran knows better, and I trust him more than this, Cirrenes sighed audibly as she rolled onto her back, Zevran's eyes blinking at her with thinly-veiled surprise. "Good night, Zevran," Cirrenes wasted little time in getting to sleep, her soft snores echoing throughout the room not long after.