"I like how you think, ser," said Saul, fixing his trousers and stepping away from the bush. "You can never have too many women."
"I hate you," Lance grunted. Saul patted him on the shoulder laughing. Lance wasn't a fan of being touched while urinating.
"Oh, come on. Even I know better than to think the famed Hero of Ferelden is above the natural instinct," he said. He leaned closer and whispered, "Besides, the Elf is sweet on you. The bigger one I mean."
"Velanna," he corrected. Saul nodded, sighing a little wistfully.
"You are a lucky man, you know," he said. Lance grunted. He turned to head back to the camp, having relieved himself to his satisfaction. He had long since tired of Lilith and Neria's debates over the nature of the Circle and its rules on magic, and Cauthrien's snide comments about mages in general. Velanna stood by, ready with a sharp remark aimed at either of the mages about how the Circle suffocated real magic and how shapeshifting was a useless "art" compared to the Dalish mastery of nature.
It brought back some rather painful memories and was just generally annoying as hell.
Saul was blabbering about Cauthrien, asking whether or not he thought she was "into him". Lance shrugged off his moronic banter with a grunt.
The guy may not have been planning some sort of dramatic backstab, but he was certainly a ponce. Perhaps bugging him to death was how Saul planned to kill him.
Lance sat on a piece of driftwood, dragged up from the beach. They were camped just on the edge of the beach, where they could lay on solid ground, but had their fire in the sand. It would have been fun – cozy even – were he not thinking of Morrigan.
She was in the Orlesian court now, and was likely sleeping in the lap of luxury – silk sheets, candied grapes, the works – all the things he would have so willingly provided her. And as he tapped the ring with his thumb he wondered if she could feel him still.
She likely would have felt his sorrow, his pain. It might have hurt her, made her sick. She would have felt the depth of his love for her, perhaps would have regretted her departure more than she already did. She would have felt the sand chafing in his boot.
He unlaced it, unbuckled his leather armor too. He was tired of wearing it all day. It certainly wasn't very bright.
He was wiping sand off of his foot, reaching into his back for a clean sock, when he saw Neria watching him.
"What?" he grunted. She smiled sweetly.
"Are you… I mean, you couldn't be. We're in Orlais, so you couldn't be him. Why would you be?"
Velanna smiled to herself, small, almost unnoticeable except by someone who knew her well, someone like Lance.
"He is the Hero of Ferelden," said Cauthrien. Saul nodded, looking right at her. Cauthrien had removed her armor to clean it and to bathe. Saul had of course taken notice. The woman was a good ten years his senior.
Although, Lance couldn't exactly blame him. She was in great shape, and a pretty woman. She hadn't a husband, or any sort of relationship, really. Lance envied her that. She had never been heartbroken.
Or maybe she had. Maybe Loghain was the closest she ever got. And Lance had broken her heart.
He looked down, eyed his ring.
"Oh, wow!" Neria declared. "The real Grey Warden. The big man. The hero!"
"Stop," he said, rubbing his throat. "I'm not. I'm just… me."
"But you're-"
"The story doesn't live up to the man," he said. "I'm no hero. Never was."
She stared up at him, eyes saucer-like. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it, wouldn't be the last. She was young, bubbly. She saw in him some sort of hero. Some sort of super-person. A superhero.
He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. The reality would shock her to her core, shatter her. It wasn't anything a girl like that needed to see. He wasn't anything she needed to see.
He was just… a murderer. A glorified killer. Someone who should have died on a tower a long time ago, should have been buried.
He was making up for that now.
Lilith eyed his ring, saw him tapping it methodically.
"Is that…"
"Yes," he answered. She nodded.
"Can you feel Morrigan?" she asked, voice low. It was a serious question. He nodded.
"Sometimes."
"What do you feel?"
He looked at her, confused. How could he answer? What was there to say?
"I feel… sad."
"You loved her?"
"I did."
"And she loved you?"
He nodded. "I'd like to think so."
She closed her eyes, breathed out. He didn't know what she expected, what she wanted from it. But she looked at him, golden eyes set, determined. And she sneered, turned back to the fire and to her argument with Neria.
Velanna saw it, and saw Lance look at his ring. She leaned close to him, whispered.
"She was that special to you?"
He nodded. And he looked up at her. She was looking at him in a way he'd never seen before. She was… dreamy. Her eyes searched him, looking for something he didn't know existed anymore.
"Is there anyone else special to you?"
He shrugged.
"Dunno yet."
"Could there be?"
"Dunno."
She nodded and turned back to the fire. He watched her for an extra second, trying to measure how she was feeling. He liked her, he determined.
And he stood up, went to his tent. He knew that he wouldn't be going to sleep anytime soon. He would be lying on his back, staring up at the canvas ceiling, wondering. He might think of Morrigan, try his damndest to live in a nice memory of her, to remember lying with her. Remember holding her.
Sometimes it was enough to get by. Sometimes it didn't help at all.
It would be very dark, too dark to see, before he went to sleep, before he was sure that he was too tired to dream about her.
Velanna watched him stand, watched him retreat to his tent. She often wondered what he thought about, what he did while he lay there. She supposed that she knew. He thought about her. Why wouldn't he?
She wished that he wouldn't, that he didn't have to. She would have done anything to help him.
Sometimes she thought that she would.
She imagined herself following him in, smiling mischievously. She would step inside, biting her lip in anticipation. He would look up, his eyes as haunted and hollow as ever. And he would ask her what she wanted, a single sound in his low, growling voice.
She didn't yet know what she would say. Perhaps something coy, something he would like. Perhaps something blatant, to let him know precisely what she intended.
She would kiss him then, and he would respond in his way. At first. He would refuse; tell her that he could not. She would convince him otherwise, with a kiss, a touch. She would whisper her desire, that she cared for him.
She would make him see otherwise, see that she was going to stay there.
He deserved someone that would stay; he deserved to be happy, to have someone willing to make him happy. She wanted to be that someone.
He had done so much for her, more than she had ever hoped anyone could do. He had changed her entire perspective, had opened her eyes to things she'd never known before.
He deserved to have the favor returned. He'd earned it.
She could be the one for him. She could be the one to make him feel right again. She wanted to be.
She imagined that they would make love, that it would feel right and natural. As much as the thought of even looking at a human being had made her sick before, she could only think of her desire for him.
The thought of it made her smile now, and her heart picked up when she thought about going to him.
They were both alone, and neither of them needed to be.
She was so caught up in her thoughts she almost didn't hear the question.
"What?" she asked, looking at Neria. The younger Elf girl smiled and repeated her question.
"Are you really a Dalish?"
"Yes," said Velanna. "I am. What of it?"
"I've never seen one before," said Neria. Velanna clucked her tongue in annoyance.
"I am Dalish," she said. "Not an animal for you to gawk at."
Neria averted her gaze suddenly, stuttering an apology. Velanna imagined the look she would get from Lance, and held up a hand to stall Neria's apology.
"No. I am sorry," she said. "Did you have a question for me?"
Neria nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a smile once more.
"I… know little of the Dalish," said Neria. And Velanna nodded. She sighed, and couldn't help the smile that mirrored the little girl's.
"I will tell you what I can."
And she did. Lilith was rather disinterested, and Saul was paying more attention to Cauthrien, but Neria appreciated it greatly.
Velanna decided that she liked having Neria around. It was good to have someone interested in the stories of the Dalish, someone to look up to her. She was painfully reminded of her sister, and how much she missed her.
But she thought of Lance, and his determination, and she was inspired by it. She told Neria the story of how the Dalish came to be, of the humans and their crusades – their Exalted March. She told her a few stories of her own adventures, how she and Lance had met.
It made her laugh, looking back. She had tried to kill him. But she knew better now. There was no way that man was going to be killed by anyone. He would never allow it.
He was a dragon.