There were certain anatomical functions of the male body that occurred in the early morning that he most sincerely didn't want her to see, so he made it a point to wake up well before she did. Of course, he was torn between shock and bemusement when he woke to find himself cuddled closely to her.
He seemed to have a vague memory of it, though the particulars escaped him. It made sense, though. A warm female body in the bed next to him, why wouldn't he? She seemed to have enjoyed it, if the small smile on her face was any indicator.
A part of him didn't want to leave. It was so cozy, so nice. But it was phony. It wasn't real, not for him. As much as he liked Velanna, as much as he wished to stay there for the rest of eternity, he could not.
It was difficult to free his arm without waking her. She had curled up so close to him, had taken possession of it while she slept. He managed, though, and she made a small whining noise as he sat up. It was cute.
He leaned over to gather up his clothes, discarded in the night. He couldn't sleep clothed, not comfortably anyway.
There was a hand at his back, fingertips running along his spine. He looked back at Velanna, who lay there, watching. She seemed a little curious, perhaps gauging the situation. Perhaps hopeful that the morning had changed his mind about them.
It hadn't, however tempting a roll with her was.
He looked at her and saw Morrigan, saw her disapproving glare. He was probably seeing ghosts, but it still kept him in check.
And it made him very… sad. He felt a tugging at his heart, a sense of longing. He wanted to sit there in bed for a long while and do nothing. But then he was very aware of Velanna watching him and decided that it was in his best interest not to stay in bed.
So he pulled on his trousers and stood up.
"Leaving," he said. And he looked at her. She moved, tried to sit up, to reach out for her own clothes. Lance held up a hand to stall her. "Stay."
She nodded, and lay back. The other Wardens would certainly wonder why it was that Velanna had not slept in her bed that night, but would just chalk it up to some Dalish… thing.
There was a knock on the door, the Orlesian Warden.
Lance opened the door a crack, enough to look at the man. He was young, younger than Lance. He had a prim and proper military bearing, probably once a Chevalier.
His name was Saul, or so Lance had been led to believe. He smiled pleasantly, trying to appear as a brother, and not a captor.
"We will leave soon," he said, thick accent reminding Lance why it was Fereldans hated Orlais. "No time for breakfast; we will take our meal on the road. Please get ready. And no weapons."
Lance nodded, scowled as he saw the man try to get a glimpse of Velanna over his shoulder. Lance pushed the door shut, hearing the man take several steps back to keep from having the door shut on him.
Lance looked back at her, saw that she was quite amused by it.
"Humans are all the same," she said, smiling. He frowned, not exactly thrilled to be compared to the Orlesian. Whatever.
He sighed and reached down to gather up a few possessions to take with him. Clothes, and some parchment. There was little else to take.
He shoved it all in a backpack that he kept stashed under his bed, the same pack that had seen him through his travels so long ago. He'd thought he would never need it again. Funny how life could screw you over like that.
He gave Velanna a last look, grimacing to her. She gave him a small, comforting smile.
"Good luck," she said. "I hope she is… everything you hope she is."
"Thanks."
And he stepped out, Saul keeping right behind him. The other two Wardens, a big man named Krueger and a skinnier gentleman named Rand, waited outside by what Lance assumed to be a carriage. It was Orlesian, and had probably been brought by Saul on his way from Orlais. A few of the Keep's soldiers watched him enter the rickety wooden contraption, wondering where he was headed.
Word had gotten out, no doubt, that the Commander was being given an ultimatum by the First Warden. Many of the troops were fiercely loyal to him, as were the nobles and citizenry of Amaranthine. His reputation was a great one.
However, where he was going, he had no friends.
They traveled slowly, Rand and Krueger eating loaves of bread loudly. The sun was still very low, barely peeking over the horizon.
"So you know," said Rand. "I'm calling the shots. Saul here is to stay on your ass at all times."
Lance nodded. He was sandwiched between Saul and Krueger, likely to keep him from being able to move.
"Don't suppose you care to share your relationship with this woman?" asked Rand, smacking his lips. Lance stared at him, narrowed his eyes. Rand shrugged. "Just as well."
"To my understanding," said Saul. "This Warden is supposed to be… 'romantically involved' with the girl."
They all exchanged grins, except for Lance, who sat quietly, impassively.
"You know it could be worse, I hope," said Rand at last. "The First Warden could have had you quietly 'taken care of'. At least this way you get to keep some honor."
"To be honest," said Saul. "I'm not too sure I like the idea of doing this. All things considered, Warden Commander, you are a hero. A dumb one, but a hero nonetheless."
Rand laughed at that. He didn't speak again for several hours, thankfully. Lance was busy calculating, taking measures. It was a good two weeks journey on foot from Amaranthine to Orlais, less by horse. They would have to make a few stops to sleep, to change horses. Possibly take on supplies. It would be a long trip indeed stuffed into that carriage.
"Here's the deal," said Rand. "This is going to be a little high profile. We would have had the Wardens in Orlais handle this, but…"
"But the girl is deep in the Empress' court," said Saul. "Very deep. We couldn't do this without risking the entire Order."
"So this is going to be a smash and grab," said Rand. "We go in, get the girl, get out."
Lance nodded. It was how he would prefer it. He'd just have to make sure that he was the one to get the girl.
"Naturally, you'll be the one to put yourself in harm's way."
He nodded again.
"The Empress has her Chevaliers practically policing the Empire now," said Rand. Saul cut in.
"Meaning that there will be few at the palace. She's made up for it by filling Val Royeaux with mercenaries. Real nasty bunch."
"Don't bother preserving their lives," said Rand. "They picked a dangerous occupation."
"We can't mingle with the Orlesian Wardens, either," said Rand. "This one has to be – what's the word? – under the covers."
"Undercover," Krueger corrected. Lance looked up at him, saw only a glare. He welcomed it.
"Once we have the girl," said Rand. "We meet up with a team of Templars already waiting for us, and go home."
Lance swallowed. Hard.
"Templars."
"Yes," said Rand. "Templars. She's an apostate mage; they'll do the job for us."
"We clean up the mess," said Saul. "Leave nothing left to say it happened. Worst case scenario, the Empress is accused of harboring apostates and loses a few popularity points."
"More importantly," said Rand. "This mess – that you made – will be nice and tidy and no one speaks of this again."
Lance nodded. Templars.
Apostates.
Executions.
He remembered Morrigan's tales of the Templars that would chase after her and Flemeth. He remembered her tales of killing them. These Templars, with an apostate witch, accused of murdering other Templars. Pyres would be erected.
There were no trials for apostates. No mercy.
That was why Morrigan lived on the fringe, why she had always been so cold. And he had chipped away at that, made a dent. He was happier with her. She was happier with him.
And now he was sent to kill her. He was an assassin.
And the Templars were just the weapon.
He had a brief moment of vertigo, motion sickness. He remembered Morrigan, her smiling face, looking up at him in a dark tent. He remembered the way she had sworn that he would find nothing of her to love, the way he had loved her even as she said it.
He remembered her soft kisses, the nights they spent together. He remembered loving her, with all his heart.
A year of loneliness, of not knowing.
A dragon in the Korcari Wilds.
Like dragons they savage, fearsome pretty things.
A promise, made in despair.
And you keep your promises?
A promise made in the dark.
Whatever happens, you will not die.
His own frustrated anger.
I would want you to live.
That cold, calculated rage.
I love you.
That build-up of hatred.
You will never know peace.
And a hollow determination. A calculating need.
If someone betrays you, they should always wake expecting your blade.
And then he felt nothing.
Lance looked up at Rand, frowned.
"If you had to do something terrible," said Lance. "To save someone you love. Would you do it?"
Rand wrinkled his forehead at this. And then he nodded.
"Sure."
"Me, too," Lance said.
Now he knew what he had to do.
He slammed his head left, connected it with Krueger's, knocking him against the wall of the carriage and putting him out cold. Rand shouted, found a boot in his face while Saul was put in a choke hold.
It took only a few seconds before everyone but Lance was unconscious.
And he leapt from the carriage, the man driving having no idea, humming to himself.
Morrigan was going to die without him. And he would not let that happen.
He ran full speed back to the Keep.
He would need weapons. Because by the time he was done, there was going to be a lot of dead bodies.