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On to this emotional and intriguing chapter! :D
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Chapter 30 - Decisions
Oh when you feel your hearts guarded,
And you see the brakes started,
And when the clouds above Departed,
You'll be right here with me,
And when your tears are dry from crying,
And when the worlds turned silent,
So when the clouds above Departed,
You will be right here with me,
I will be right here with you
you'll be right here with me
Brandy - You'll be right here with me
.
.
This was more like it. Alistair grinned as he saw them fall, one by one, Leonie and her men cutting through them so easily, he felt like laughing out loud. Chantalle smiled beside him and danced around a hurlock, slicing its throat before he could even strike. He grinned at his wife.
My wife! Maker's breath, just look at her!
She glanced to the right and ran off to help Fernan and Alistair turned his attention to a hurlock that was trying to get to Fiona. The hurlock laughed once, and his head rolled to the ground.
Leonie was not the Warden Commander of Orlais for nothing. She fought like someone possessed, and she and her men managed to hack right into the bulk of the darkspawn horde not a moment too soon. Alistair grinned as he watched them drop like flies.
His smile froze. A genlock rogue, appearing suddenly behind Chantalle. Chantalle turning, surprise in her eyes and on her face. Then...
Everything seemed to slow down. He heard the roar come from his throat, as he sprinted towards her, but he already knew he was too slow, far too slow. Saw her fall, slowly, gracefully to the ground, the blood spurting from her chest, like red ribbons flying through the air. Saw her lying there, terribly still and pale until he finally reached her and took her in his arms.
She was cold, so cold!
"FIONA! FIONA!" He bellowed, pure agony in his voice as he tried to stop the flow of blood with his own hands, pressing on the wound.
Fiona was suddenly there, applying healing magic to her wound. Anders arrived promptly as well.
"Maker!" Alistair cried out, still holding her.
"That blade was poisoned, Alistair! I don't know if I'll be able to-" But Fiona was interrupted.
"No! Don't say what you are going to say! She can't die! She can't! Anders!"
Anders got closer, his hands hovering over her.
Chantalle opened her eyes, and smiled up at Alistair. He gave a strangled cry and her hand went up to his cheek. It was shaking badly.
"My love," He could barely speak, his voice cracked and hoarse.
"I love you Alistair. You are everything to me." Her breathing hitched, and then her eyes closed.
And a scream burst forth from Alistair Theirin that was so loud it could be heard all the way to the city gates.
...
Zevran Arainai moved through the shadows, keeping his eyes on the man that was sneaking around.
The man was wearing dark leather armor and was moving slowly, carefully measuring each step as he made his way through the market square pausing only to look over his shoulder.
Zevran flattened himself against one of the walls that surrounded the Chantry and waited until he heard soft footsteps moving away. He then crouched and advanced, keeping his distance but never once letting his guard down and making it a point to remain hidden.
The man he was following was a Crow. There was no doubt about it. He also knew that he was a stupid man, and stupid didn't sit well with the Crows. He had already seen him make two mistakes, and that had told him that this man probably didn't have much experience, which made sense. Even from where he was standing, Zevran could tell he was young.
At first he had thought that the man was looking for him and that he was the target. But when he had walked right next to him at the inn where he was eating his dinner, and the man had not even acknowledged he was there, he decided that maybe he wasn't the target after all.
So when this young man had left the inn, and started to sneak around the shadows, Zevran had followed him.
And now, he watched as the man went right up to another shadow.
From where he crouched, he could hear their conversation, but not be seen.
"This is your contact. She is expecting you tomorrow morning. You must do this and not fail, or you will become a liability to us. And we have a way to deal with liabilities quickly and successfully. You will return to us only after you have eliminated the target."
The younger man took a piece of parchment, and nodded. He then turned to leave and the older man, too, disappeared into the shadows.
Zevran waited until the younger man was at a reasonable distance from where he was, then he continued to follow, keeping to the shadows.
Then, when he reached one of the dark back alleys, he got closer. He made sure there was nobody around and moved in for the kill.
The young man did not even hear him approach. His gasp turned into a gurgle as Zevran silently and deftly slashed his throat.
Zevran searched his pockets and found the note.
He had a smile on his face when he turned, making his way to The Pearl.
He was relieved now that he knew for sure that the Crows were not targeting him. Not yet anyway. At the same time he was infinitely curious.
Why would the Queen of Ferelden have the need to hire the Crows?
He entered the Pearl and went to his room. Pausing, he checked to see if there was anyone in the corridor before opening his door, something he did out of habit. Once inside, he locked the door and sat on the only chair in the scarcely furnished room.
But as much as he pondered on his question, he knew that he would not get an answer. Not tonight anyway.
He walked towards the washbasin in the room and proceeded to take off his armor and wash away the blood from his hands, neck and face. Then he cleaned up his armor and took the rest of his clothes off, washing up the grime and sweat from his body.
Once he was done, he headed for his bed and slipped under the cool sheets completely naked.
He smiled to himself. Queen Anora was a well known tyrant already. She must have the need to have someone murdered; he knew that she had a lot of enemies. He also knew that she had never set eyes on him, as Duran and Alistair had not taken him when they had gone to rescue her from the clutches of Rendon Howe. She might have caught the briefest of glimpses of him at the Arl's estate, but he was almost sure she would not recognize him right away.
Tomorrow was going to prove a very interesting day indeed.
...
The cold eyes of Anora Mac Tir assessed the person in front of her. He was cool and composed, and it seemed to her that he was familiar, but she could not remember where she had seen him before. She only knew that he was an elf and it was enough to send alarm bells ringing, because elves hated her at the moment.
"You wished an audience with me? Speak," she said, not bothering to smile.
"You contacted the Crows, yes?" Hazel eyes bore into her blue ones, making her falter for a moment.
She turned to the guards and asked them to leave. Once she was alone, she looked back at the elf, and saw that he had a smirk on his face.
This annoyed her immensely.
"You work for the Crows?" She asked pointedly.
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
He had an Antivan accent. Where had she seen him before? If only she could remember.
"Do I know you?" She asked in icy tones.
The elf's smirk deepened.
"You might have seen me before, very briefly, in passing. You were too busy giving orders to your men," he lied easily.
Anora did not know that he was lying but she reflected on his answer deeply before she spoke again.
"You know what I want done?" She asked.
"I was sent here so that you could tell me what you want done," he replied, his voice cool.
"I need proof," she bristled.
The elf gave her a smile that did not reach his eyes. He took a piece of parchment from his pocket and handed it to her.
Contact is Queen Anora. She wants to hire us. Seek her out, agree, get target's name. Carry out the job. Return for payment.
Anora returned the parchment to him, smiling this time.
"I see you are the person I have been waiting for. I did not expect an elf," she said, her voice low.
He did not reply to what she had said, merely looked at her in a detached manner. She blushed faintly and cleared her voice.
"I want you to kill someone. I want it to look like an accident. You will be paid for this of course. And I will also pay the Crows. I will give you fifty sovereigns which should cover for your expenses. When you are done, you will return here, and I shall give you another fifty sovereigns." Her tone was brisk and businesslike, and Zevran kept his gaze on her, noticing the faint flicker of excitement in her eyes.
"That is very generous of you. Normally we are not paid by clients. It is the Crows who pay us a portion. I will make sure that the person you want dead meets with an unfortunate accident accordingly," he smiled, his eyes amused and warm.
She smiled back at him and nodded. She had a hard time getting her emotions under control, so close was she to achieving her task, and she laughed to herself when she thought about her victory. She would go ahead with the Landsmeet because news of his death would not have reached them by then. It was perfect. Nobody would suspect of her, it would be a fortuitous accident, that would lead to her finally securing the throne and getting her revenge at the same time.
"You will travel to Orlais." She said, her tone quivering with emotion. Zevran noticed this and was most curious, but suddenly he knew who his target was even before she opened her mouth again to speak.
"You will find Warden Commander Alistair Theirin there. He is a Grey Warden, I know, but you have been recommended to me as individuals who do not stop until they get the job done. You will seek him out and kill him. It must be done discretely and must be made to look as an accident. If it is not made to look as an accident, I will consider this a failed mission and nobody will get payment."
"It will look like an accident, I assure you. I am quite capable of accomplishing that," he shot back quickly, exuding self-confidence.
The queen smiled. She turned to a desk behind her and took out a money pouch. After handing it to him, she spoke again.
"You will leave immediately. I have other people in Orlais spying on this man for me, but if you are as efficient as you say you are, you will make sure that they do not see you."
He nodded and smiled back at her.
"Rest assured, my Queen. It will be as you say." He murmured.
"Thank you, you may leave now." Anora said, her voice vibrant and warm.
"If I may, before I leave?" Zevran paused, waiting for her reaction.
It was just the one he expected. She stiffened and her icy glare challenged him.
"Yes?" She asked.
"Why is this man such a threat to you? I am merely curious. I like to know as much about the target as I can. It helps me to gather information so I can make his death look accidental enough," the words rolled off his tongue easily.
Anora thought about this for a while before she replied.
"He is a threat to the throne of Ferelden. And he is the Warden Commander of the Grey Wardens. That is all you need to know."
Zevran heard the underlying hatred with which she spoke. It was enough for him. He bowed low and left the chamber.
Once outside he made his way back to the Pearl, gathered his possessions in his pack and then walked to the Denerim docks.
After he actually secured passage on a ship and boarded, he made his way to the deck, and looked around. Satisfied that he was not being followed or tracked by anyone, he leaned on the railing, staring down at the dark blue water that lapped lazily around the ship.
He smiled in anticipation at the task that lay before him.
...
Alistair took a breath of fresh air. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun was fast setting. He had just been to an audience with the Empress and had gotten what he wanted, so he was feeling quite smug in spite of everything that had happened the last week.
He made his way to the market square, stopping at a stand which sold knick-knacks and whatnots and began to browse through all of them. Something caught his eye and he smiled. He now knew the Orlesian phrase for 'how much' and he pointed to the object and asked the merchant for the price.
He found it to be much cheaper than he thought it would be and bought it straight away. He then stopped at the flower stand, just before reaching the compound itself. He bought a single red rose and smiled to himself. Then, he entered the compound and made his way to the mess hall. The wardens there waved at him and smiled and he waved back. He did not see Fiona there, so he guessed she must be in his room.
He took off in the direction of his room, pausing only at the kitchens where he snatched some bread, cheese and wine.
He opened the door quietly and stepped into the room. Fiona was sitting on a chair in front of the bed and he placed his parcel and food on the table, while hiding the rose behind him as he walked over to the figure lying under the sheets.
"Hello, my love," he said softly and bent down to kiss Chantalle on her forehead.
Chantalle smiled at him, her whole face lighting up with joy and love. His heart hammered in his chest at this.
"Thank the Maker that you are back, Alistair. You must tell your wife that she has to continue to be patient. She was near death, and only just recovering from the experience. She must continue to rest, even though she feels perfectly fine," Fiona chided, sounding for once remarkably like Wynne, who had travelled with them during the Blight.
"But I'm so very bored!" Chantalle said, and pouted.
His eyes fixed on the pout, wishing he could kiss it and take her lips into his mouth and suck them gently. He felt his blood racing through his veins and his groin started to ache and throb. Giving himself a mental shake, he turned to the elven mage and grinned at her affectionately.
"She's giving you a hard time, I take it?" He managed, keeping his laughter in check.
But Fiona knew what he was feeling and smiled.
"How did your meeting go, my love?" Chantalle said, her voice warm.
He turned back to her and his eyes locked on hers. The look on his warm amber eyes sent butterflies fluttering into her stomach.
Fiona ignored the passionate glance they shared, and waited for Alistair's reply.
"It went along perfectly. I'm really happy with the result. So happy, that I got you something on the way back, my love," he said softly and held out the red rose to her.
Her eyes widened slightly with surprise and looked up at his with love.
"Oh, my husband, how beautiful!" She took the rose gently and held it to her nose, breathing in its fragrance.
"Just like you," he murmured and sat on the bed, taking her free hand in his.
"Well," Fiona said. "Now that you are back and bring good news and food, I'll leave you two alone. She has fully recuperated now and I can safely say we can travel soon.
"That is fantastic, Fiona," Alistair replied, but kept his eyes on Chantalle, feeling molten fire coursing through his veins now. That Fiona was now announcing that she was fully recuperated meant two things. And they both excited him immensely.
The first one was that her life was no longer in danger, and that she was now back to normal. The poison in the blade that had missed her heart by a couple of inches had been very strong; one of the rogue wardens in the compound had identified as 'quiet death'. It had taken them five days alone to fully stop and eliminate all traces of the poison in her body. The only comforting thing was that she had been unconscious through it all.
The second thing that excited him and was now making him ache for her was the fact that they had not been intimate since the night before the wedding, seven days ago exactly. He was looking forward to it, to put it mildly.
"I'll be going now," Fiona said rather loudly as she rolled her eyes. "Good night both of you."
Alistair didn't hear her. Chantalle didn't look at her.
She rolled her eyes again and stepped outside, closing the door behind her.
Then, smiling to herself, she went down to the mess hall to have her dinner at last.
...