Author's Note: We might just be at the halfway mark! Woohoo! Time for some real action! Hope you enjoyed the Alistair smut, it's going to be a while till the demonic threesome - oops, did I just say that? Thanks to Lady_Fawna, and Lacey for making sure it all makes sense. As always, please let me know what you think of it and Read and Review!

Chapter 10

The morning was too bright, Shayle had an issue with her mount, and breakfast had been cold. None of it mattered to Sylrien right now. She couldn't help but smile to herself, like that cat that ate the canary. She had woken up to find that the night before was not a dream, and for the first time in a long time, she woke up to Alistair's hazel eyes. He was watching her, lazily tracing circles along her stomach with his fingers. She stretched and kissed him, before muttering something about more sleep. She had tried to roll over and gain a few more minutes of shut eye, but he had other plans. There was a bath to take...She could not remember the last time a bath had been that...that...

Sylrien blushed to herself, lost in her own thoughts while the others prepared. They weren't taking much at all; Travelling light and incognito was key here. They were to be simple travelers, rather than the Leader of the Antivan Crows, the King of Ferelden, the General of His Majesties' Armies, and the formerly dead Grey Warden Hero. It would be just like old times. Even though those old times had been in the face of a darkspawn Blight, it just felt...normal. She was lost in her thoughts till a gloved hand squeezed her shoulder. It was Zevran. The blush flared up in her cheeks as she looked away, causing him to raise an eyebrow. He was not naive; he would have known who had shared her bed the previous night. He didn't say anything about it though, just nudged her slightly. "There are people waiting for you, Warden. Best you not disappoint them?"

She offered him a weak smile before nodding, looking in the direction he gestured in. Shianni. Father. For a moment she felt an overwhelming sense of dread. She had not been able to...to...Taking a deep breath and tugging on her gloves, she made her way over to her family.

There Sylrien was, dressed like some Dalish princess. The two Dalish she had been speaking to before they had seen her must have arranged for her to receive the armor. It had been made by the most skilled of the Elvhanen, meant to be the testament to their recovered craft. When their hero had mysteriously returned, it was only natural it was given to her. Plates of ironbark seemed fused to a flexible leather undercoat, looking more like woven leaves rather than cloth or leather. Shianni shook her head. She was going to leave again, and maybe she would die again. She certainly looked guilty enough. Despite the trappings of a noble warrior, she looked ashamed, meek as she walked to them.

"So, you're leaving again?" Shianni flatly stated. Cyrion did not say a word.

"Yes. There is...there is something I've left unfinished. Something I must see to before I even dream of really living." Sylrien spoke softly, looking down at her feet. This made Shianni even angrier. "You know, you've done this before. You've done this two times already! You can't just leave us to go on some quest to save a princess or something! You nearly killed your own father twelve years ago! You are always thinking of your-"

"Enough!" Cyrion spoke, his voice firm and strong. Both women looked to him. He stepped forward, placing his hands on either sides of his daughter's face. "She goes where she has to. I'll miss you Sylrien. Do what you have to do. Seeing you again was more than these old bones could've ever hoped for. You're a good girl, and you've made us all proud. I'm just glad I was able to tell you that. Don't forget that I love you, we both love you. In this life or by the Maker's side, we will see eachother again. Now hug an old man before I change my mind and decide not to let you go out ever again?"

Sylrien nodded numbly, kissing both of her father's cheeks before resting her forehead against his. He looked down at her and nodded, hugging her a final time. She stepped toward Shianni, expecting a rejection, looking away. "Oh you...." The red-head exclaimed, giving an exasperated sigh as she hugged her cousin. Sylrien was taken by surprise, and slowly returned the gesture. "We'll...you'll owe me another bottle of wine after this. Since this whole Bann business, I've got expensive tastes too."

Sylrien grinned up at her, smirked softly. "Of course."

So out of the gates of Denerim, along the Great East Road, came four travelers, all with a heavy cloak around them, obscuring their identities. After Denerim's skyline disappeared on the horizon, did someone actually speak. Sylrien pulled her hood back, glancing down the road they had traveled so far.

"So...where exactly are we going?"

Shayle hmmpfed loudly, pulling on the reins of her pony. "The Wilds. Figured that your witch might have left some trace of herself there. Then to Orlais - we've been hearing rumors about a mage in Val Royeaux. Matches the description of the Swamp Witch. She must know you're looking for her. That banquet was a bad idea. Your little public meeting was a poor idea. Fleshy creatures and their sentiments..."

"You seemed rather enamored with that wine, though. Haven't we been over this before, Shayle? It's alright to admit to liking things. Really, it is. No-one's going to think any less of you." Alistair spurred his horse on so he was even with the pony that Shayle rode. "You should have seen her when we introduced the concept of mattresses. Wouldn't lay down. Still needs only about an hour of sleep."

"Did I mention something about thinking about its - your tender melon of a head being fragile enough to pop like an inflated pig's bladder...Your Majesty."

"Right. So I guess we don't mention the time we introduced you to cheese. And chocolate. Especially the chocolate."

"Indeed. Perhaps it is suited to this whole king business afterall."

"Why thank you, Shayle."

Sylrien smiled to herself. 'Like old times indeed,' she thought. It lifted her spirits after talk of Morrigan. No, she was Flemeth now. Morrigan was gone. "Eitherway," she added, her horse still traiilng behind Shayle's. "I am could ask for no better travelling companions. I-"

Alistair's horse stopped on the command of its master. He held up a hand for silence. There were no birds song anymore, the land around them was too quiet. Even the wind seemed to have died down. He curled a few fingers toward Sylrien, who nodded and brought her horse next to his. "Can....can you feel it?"

She furrowed her brows together. "Feel what?" He turned to look at her, something inscrutable in his expression. "Then...then it must be nothing." His horse paused as she moved forward, shrugging slightly. It must be bandits. They were a far ways away from sight of any settlement, and she could not feel the familiar alarm in the back of her mind that triggered whenever Darkspawn were close. One hand gripped the reins of her horse, the other rested firmly on the hilt of a slender blade at her side. The only other sound than that of her horse was the unsheathing of other blades as the others followed suit. The air was thick with unseen danger, their pace slow and cautious. Then suddenly Alistair dashed forward, catching the reins of her horse with one hand, jerking her forward as an arrow whizzed by her head. A cry of disappointment filled the air as she kicked hard at the sides of the horse beneath her to wrestle back control.

That was a sound she had nearly forgotten. A cry she knew as well as the sound of her own voice. There was a rustling of leaves, the heavy footfalls of many creatures. And the stench...Gods above, that stench. "Make ready!" She yelled as her companions begaim to dismount.

Darkspawn.