The Merchant & The Mage
Morgana
She looks around at the call - then feels slightly guilty about assuming it was for her. The (technically senior) other Warden shifts next to her, frowning at the sudden intrusion.
A cart has been left on the edge of camp, and a man, panting slightly, walks to them, seeming relieved. "I'm so glad I found you."
With that, they are drawn into the tale of Levi Dryden, a simple merchant fighting to restore his family's name.
She has to admit, the thought of a Warden fortress - possibly with useful supplies - tempts her, and when Duncan's name is mentioned - the best card Levi could have played, in the situation - she sees Alistair almost imperceptibly straighten next to her, can see the thoughts in his head: this man knew Duncan, he must be a good sort, they should help him...
She doesn't want to leave the man hanging, either; she sees and hears the fire come into his eyes and voice when he talks about his ancestors, a Warden great-grandmother, Sophia, and can't help but feel the weight of expectation on her shoulders. She looks to her side when Alistair seems to perk up, murmuring, "I've certainly heard her name before - possibly when I was recruited." He frowns. "Couldn't tell you where..."
"Would you like to make camp with us for the night?" she offers politely, and sees Levi's face light up. "We may have some stew spare. We can set off in the morning, if that's all right?"
She looks to Alistair, and he nods. "Sure. The more the merrier, I suppose." They exchange a silent glance; it's a large pot, but there's never any stew spare - even as they have learned to control it, the Warden appetite is still a problem. They will need to survive on portions that are, well... normal, rather than an ogres.
Most of the group arrange themselves in a rough circle around the campfire, Morrigan retreating to her own; Morgana doesn't miss the way she looks around carefully first, however, as if to check everyone has a portion of the meal she's cooked. As they sit there, taking spoonfuls of it - Alistair keeps poking at it suspiciously and muttering things like, "Those better be herbs..." - Morgana gently tries, "You know all these things, the Grey Wardens' history... You have six months on me, and you're a fine fighter. Why don't you lead? I remember the Wilds - you were..." She thinks for a moment, spoon halfway to her mouth. "Almost scary, actually. Confident, certainly."
He looks at her in the firelight, fleeting confusion quickly turning to panic. "That was a long time ago. And anyway..." Now it's him deep in thought. "Bad things happen when I lead. People end up lost, without any pants..." He trails off, as if deep in unpleasant reflection, and then throws her a sidelong glance.
"I'm sure I don't want to know," she says hastily, wondering if it's true or if it's just his humour, almost always skewed at a pleasant angle. She clicks her fingers, nearly dropping the stew bowl in her other hand. "That's it!"
"Am I missing something?"
"After all this, the gossips... they can't call us 'Wardens'. So... You can be 'the funny one', and I can be 'the quiet, frightening mage with the sword'." She smiles at him faux-hopefully, and he looks back at her quizzically.
"What, as in, 'the danger to public society'?"
Leliana tuts, shaking her head and smiling into her soup bowl, Sten simply ignoring them and Zevran raising his eyebrows.
She rolls her eyes, seeing the merchant watching them with a keen eye and a tentative half-smile, and searches for a way to let him into the conversation. "How long have you been searching for us?"
Levi launches into a tale of navigating a cart through treacherous terrain, and she leans back on her hands, exchanging smiles with Leliana. Alistair simply raises an eyebrow at Levi's mention of werewolves.
She looks up, keeping an ear on the story, watching the skies; what Alistair told her of the constellations returns to her mind, a pleasant warmth blooming at the memory of how new it all was, of him laughing with her when she was still unused to freedom and trying to remember all the stories; she's almost certain he'd made up "Andraste's socks", though.
She finds her eyes meeting his, his gaze slowly turning to the sky, too, as if he knows what she's thinking - maybe he does. He looks back at her and gives her a grin across the campfire, confirming it.
For a small while, laughing with Levi and staring at stars, she enjoys the peace.