The surly, well-armed guard stood to one side of the Alienage gate, scowling at the steady stream of elves moving through the opening. Duncan stood just outside the sturdy timber barrier, ignoring the guard's glares as he fingered the fading blooms woven around and between the timbers. Adaia used to sneak into the nobles' private gardens, and even into the Chantry on a couple of occasions, to steal blossoms to attach to the gate. These floral crimes were her way of bringing beauty to the Alienage's entry, a subtle statement right there on the most obvious symbol of the elves' imprisonment. Duncan hadn't passed through the Alienage gate since Adaia's death, but every year on the anniversary of his first meeting with Adaia, he'd come to this spot to add a single rose to the other flowers woven into the gate. He liked to think it was Zoya who continued to weave pilfered blooms into the barrier.

As frequently happened in quiet moments such as these, his thoughts turned to the young elf. When he'd seen her in the marketplace, she seemed reasonably happy. A smile tugged his lips as he recalled the young elf, like her mother in miniature; her face was uncharacteristically fierce as they sparred, determined to disarm him despite the difference in size and experience. The joyful memories fled at the shameful cowardice he felt for abandoning her, threatening to turn him from the gate yet again. But time was no longer on his side – if he was going to retrieve the girl, it needed to happen now. Taking a deep breath, he strode into the Alienage, tersely nodding to the guard as he entered.

Elven eyes, both hostile and curious, locked on him as he traveled the worn cobbles. He was surprised by how little had changed since he was here last. The place was still a tinderbox; dilapidated buildings that looked like a strong wind would knock them over. As bad as the conditions in the Denerim Alienage were, he'd seen far worse places. At least here there was a sense of community - people looked out for each other and made an effort to keep their homes safe and their surroundings clean. It was a far cry from the Val Royeaux Alienage where multiple families often shared a single-room hovel and the dead were frequently left forgotten in the gutters. The Alienage was bustling with activity, some elves focused on routine tasks while small groups congregated around the vhenedhal, chatting excitedly under the large tree that stood as a silent guardian at the center of the Alienage.

It wasn't long before he reached his destination, the home of his old friend Valendrian. Duncan hesitated on the doorstep, his hand poised to knock on the door, suddenly struck by the rapid passage of time. Had it really been twenty years since he first came to Denerim and the Wardens were allowed to return to Ferelden? It was hard to imagine so much had happened since he'd first stood nervously before this very door, hoping to be reunited with a certain fiery elf.

Duncan took a deep breath, building his courage to knock on the Elder's door. He'd been unable to chase Adaia from his mind after their afternoon together in the Circle Tower. Despite how little time he'd actually spent with her, she'd haunted him even in the Deep Roads, the memory somehow giving him reason to persevere through even the most hopeless moments. He'd even wondered if he was under the influence of blood magic, but his cohort Fiona assured him he was under no extraordinary influence. The elven mage had been amused by the young rogue's infatuation with Adaia, encouraging him to seek her out as a recruit – Fiona understood better than anyone the pain of being an elf and an apostate on their own in this world.

Now that he was finally in a position to grant Adaia's wish to become a Warden, he intended to do just that - assuming that she'd made it to Denerim, of course. Just before the Commander dragged him flushed and half naked out of the elf's room, Adaia had told him that she planned to escape the Circle and seek shelter with a relative in the Denerim Alienage. At the time, he wondered how she planned to escape. It wasn't until the Deep Roads that he discovered his favorite lockpick was missing from its hidden compartment in his belt. Not since his time on the streets of Val Royeaux had he encountered a mage with fingers nimble enough to pick his pocket. But then Adaia was far prettier, and had far more entertaining ways to distract him, than his old friend Luc.

The Elder seemed surprised when Duncan asked after Adaia by name, and even more so that she'd expressed interest in becoming a Warden. At Duncan's stubborn insistence, Valendrian set off to retrieve the young woman. Duncan's heart leapt in his chest when he saw her – she was lovelier than he remembered. Her cheeks flushed prettily as she beamed up at him, delicate fingers moving up to coquettishly twirl a red tendril of hair around delicate fingers. The thrill of realizing that she was just as happy to see him was quickly dashed. The Elder rejected Duncan's overtures, arguing that there was no need to recruit Adaia since there was no Blight and she'd recently married into the community.

As the Elder spoke and the reality of the situation set in, Adaia's smile became tense, her eyes shifting to the floor and refusing to meet his gaze. Not knowing what else to do, Duncan sadly acquiesced to the Elder's wishes, promising that he wouldn't invoke the Right of Conscription. As Adaia moved to exit the Elder's home, she paused before Duncan, offering him a subtle wink and sad smile, a glimmer of hope returning to her green eyes as she took his hand.

Duncan struggled against the need to follow Adaia, knowing duty required he stay to discuss other possible recruits with the Elder. He left the Elder's home after a torturous hour had passed, pausing below the vhenedhal to read the note Adaia had pressed into his hand. Swallowing hard, his eyes lingered on her flowing script, "My dearest Duncan, I would very much like to return what I took from you. I will be at the docks at sunset should you desire to continue our conversation from the Circle."

His thoughts were interrupted as the door flew open and a young, red-haired elf nearly knocked him over in her haste to leave the Elder's home. Her face paled as she looked up at Duncan, recognition registering in her widening eyes - she quickly ducked her head, mumbled an apology and hurried off.

Valendrian strode forward and clasped forearms with Duncan in greeting. The Elder's wide smile removed some of the anxiety Duncan was feeling. "It's so good to see you old friend. It's been far too long since your last visit." Valendrian motioned for him to enter and have a seat at the table as he retrieved a bottle of ale and two mugs.

Duncan settled into a worn chair and let his eyes sweep the room - still the same time-worn furniture and jumble of books and other odds and ends. The only real change was how much Valendrian had aged since the last time the two men had seen each other; his responsibilities had apparently taken their toll. "It's good to see you too, Valendrian. That young elf that nearly ran me over - was that Adaia's niece, Shianni?"

"Yes, it was. I apologize for her rudeness. She has a lot on her mind – she's preparing for a wedding, well two weddings actually." Valendrian leaned back in his chair.

Duncan raised an eyebrow at this news, "She's a bit young to be married if I recall?"

Valendrian folded his hands on the table. "You're correct. She's taken over wedding preparations for her brother, Soris, and Zoya."

Duncan nearly choked on his ale. "Zoya? When?"

"Cyrion found an excellent match for her in Highever. He and Soris' bride arrived earlier today, and the wedding is tomorrow. I'm sure Zoya would be pleased if you could attend the ceremony. Within the week, they'll travel to Highever to live with his family." Valendrian eyed Duncan warily. "What brings you to the Alienage after all this time, Duncan?"

Duncan swallowed hard and took a breath to regain his composure. Well, at least this time he'd arrived before the wedding. Knowing his old friend wasn't one for mincing words, he jumped right to the heart of the matter. "The worst has happened – a Blight has begun. King Cailan has summoned the Grey Wardens to Ostagar to fight the darkspawn horde alongside his army. As you know, our numbers here in Ferelden are small, so I'm here recruiting."

Valendrian frowned at Duncan, "So I've heard. But if you've come to the Alienage looking for recruits, you'll be leaving empty handed - I've no viable candidates to offer. Many of our able-bodied youth have already departed for Ostagar to work as laborers - not that any of them were warriors in any sense of the word."

Duncan cleared his throat, "Yes, I'd imagine. Actually, I've got a particular recruit in mind…"

The door burst open as Cyrion stormed into Valendrian's home. His voice shook with rage as he spoke, "Is it true the Warden is here?" His glare settled on Duncan as he rose from the chair; Cyrion closed the distance between them, his fists clenched as stalked over. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here, shem! What business could you possibly have in the Alienage?"

Valendrian rose from his chair, positioning himself between the two men and placing a calming hand on the angry elf's shoulder. "Cyrion, Duncan is a guest in my home."

Duncan stood his ground, keeping his voice calm, "As I was telling the Elder, I'm recruiting Wardens to fight the Blight. I've come to the Alienage to collect my last recruit before returning to Ostagar."

Cyrion's face flushed, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "I know who you're after, shem. You can't seriously think I would let you take my Zoya? Isn't it enough you took Adaia from me?" The elf crossed his arms, his expression smug. "Besides, you're too late - I've already arranged for my daughter to go to Highever, she'll be married into a good family. You may as well leave - I won't agree to her being recruited."

Duncan bristled, wanting nothing more than to throttle this man - Maker knew it had been a long time coming. He forced his next words through clenched teeth. "I wasn't the one who took Adaia – it was the Templars. How long before they come for Zoya again?"

Cyrion continued to scowl at Duncan. "You're still convinced Adaia's death wasn't your fault? If you'd left her be, she'd have settled into being a wife and a mother, let her magic and swordplay drift into memory. That's my hope for Zoya – she'll have a chance for a fresh start. But you expect me to let my little girl, my only child, go with you to fight the Blight? Can you promise me she won't be harmed as she fights her way through darkspawn and Maker knows what else? Because that's the only way I'll consent to her leaving with you."

"You're a fool if you think Zoya can just set aside her gifts, Cyrion." Duncan took a calming breath as he forced himself to unclench his fists. "Did the family of her betrothed promise her safety? Are you certain they won't hand her over to the Templars once they discover she's gifted with magic? Adaia never came to harm with me - it was here in Denerim with you that she met her end." Duncan watched Cyrion pale at this statement. When he spoke again, his tone was gentler. "We've always known that Zoya is meant for great things. Her talents would be of great benefit to the Wardens – they're wasted here in the Alienage where she has to keep them hidden. Let her come with me – if she joins the Wardens, the Templars will no longer have any hold over her."

Cyrion looked to the Elder for support. Finding none, he turned toward the hearth, stubbornly shaking his head. "She'll be safe in Highever with her Nelaros' family. This is what's best for her, what needs to be done."

"If we don't stop this Blight, Zoya won't be safe anywhere. Have you asked her what she wants to do, Cyrion?" The guilt written on Cyrion's face provided Duncan the answer he was seeking. "I don't believe it's entirely your decision. If Zoya is old enough to marry, then she's old enough to decide her own path. If she truly wants to marry, I'll accept her decision. Can you say the same should she choose differently?"

~oOo~

Zoya awoke, painfully aware of the lumps in her mattress. Who would have thought that sleeping on a bed roll in the tunnels would be more comfortable than sleeping in her bed at home? Her whole body felt as if it had been pummeled with a war hammer and her head pounded wickedly. She dragged her hand up to rub at her eyes before she risked cracking them open. So she'd gone home last night after her bender instead of going back to the tunnels after all. She sighed heavily, realizing that was probably because Shianni wanted to keep her away from Anders - she never should have told her cousin that she'd kissed the human. Her heart fluttered at the memory of that kiss.

The bunk above her appeared to be empty; Shianni must be up already. How had this all happened so fast? She'd returned to the Alienage last night to spend time with her family and collect her things. It was her intention to leave Denerim after the heist tonight, hopefully a good deal richer and with Anders by her side. But the news upon arrival to her home was that her betrothed was arriving early and the wedding date had been moved up. Zoya groaned and curled into a ball, pulling her blanket up over her head.

"Time to get up, sleepy head." Shianni's sing-song tone made her head pound. Zoya growled a string of obscenities under her breath and pulled the blanket tighter around her, but Shianni wrestled it away, grunting in frustration. "Hurry up, Zoya! Today's a big day and we've got a lot to do. Soris arranged for you both to meet with your betrothed before the welcome dinner tonight - I'm not sure how he pulled that off…"

Soris chuckled as he entered the room. "I'll never tell. Is she still in bed? We've got less than an hour before we meet up with Nelaros and Valora, and then there's the dinner tonight - so much for enjoying our last day of independence, eh cousin?"

Zoya threw an impressive scowl at her cousins, openly annoyed that Soris was just as cheerful about all this as Shianni. "Oh please… you don't need to remind me. How can you both be so perky this morning? You drank more than I did last night - it's just not fair." With a heavy sigh, Zoya rolled out from under her blanket and padded on bare feet to the washbasin to splash cool water on her face and rinse her mouth. Dropping into a chair at the table, Zoya wrapped her hands gratefully around a mug of hot tea – she didn't think her stomach could handle much else this morning.

There was much to do in little time, and she had more to deal with than just the wedding preparations. She wanted to return to Anders as soon as possible - he was likely worried about her, as the plan when she'd left the tunnels was for just a quick trip into the Alienage. Besides, this was the first night they'd spent apart since she'd rescued him; it felt unnatural to be away from him now. They also needed time to assemble their gear for the heist tonight, and now she needed to find a way to get away from the pre-wedding activities to meet up with Isabela at the Chantry.

Shianni reached out and covered one of Zoya's hands with her own, interrupting her cousin's thoughts. "Guess who I ran into this morning at Valendrian's?" She spoke in a casual tone, but the serious look on the girl's face and the tightness of her hand put Zoya on alert. "Duncan."

With that one name, Zoya's world came to a screeching halt. She leapt to her feet, the tea mug dropping to the floor with a clatter as she crossed the room. Tugging desperately at the door, she finally pried it loose and dashed through the opening - her only goal as she sprinted through the Alienage was to get to Valendrian's home before Duncan left.

As she barreled around a corner, she nearly ran down her father. Cyrion grasped her by the arms, his face full of concern as he steadied them both. "My dear girl, it's good to see you up and awake. But where are you off to in such a rush?" His eyes traveled over Zoya; she was still in her rumpled clothing from the night before, her feet bare and hair askew. "You're quite a sight! You wouldn't want Nelaros to see you like this, would you?"

Zoya looked anxiously past him toward the Elder's home. "I was heading to Valendrian's – is he still here?"

Her father gave her a steady look. "Who?"

"Duncan. Shianni told me he was at the Elder's." She was surprised at how small her voice sounded in her ears.

Cyrion wrapped an arm around Zoya's shoulder as he turned her back toward their home, his voice quiet but even. "No, his business here is done, so he's left the Alienage. Valendrian invited him to the wedding tomorrow, so perhaps you'll see him there. But he made it clear he was in a hurry to get back to Ostagar." Cyrion ran a hand over Zoya's hair to smooth it and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Let's get you back to the house so you can get washed up and ready to meet your betrothed."

Zoya let her father steer her back to their home, barely listening to his words as he continued to speak. Duncan had been here, and he hadn't sought her out. But then who could blame him – she'd been horrible to him the last time he was in the Alienage. She wished she could see him before she left Denerim.

~oOo~

Zoya knew she should have sought out Anders as soon as she returned to the tunnels, and there was a part of her that wanted to do just that. But it had been a difficult day, and her need to escape into herself won out. Or maybe it was guilt – she'd spent much of the day in the company of her betrothed, the whole time wishing it was Anders picnicking with her in the warm sunshine. As much as she hated to admit it, Cyrion had done a good job selecting her match. Nelaros was everything she could want in a husband - handsome, athletic, attentive, intelligent and kind-hearted - if she'd wanted one that is. They'd spoken at length about his family in Highever before the topic shifted to blades and his work in the smithy. Despite her father's wishes, she shared her love of swordplay with Nelaros - he didn't seem at all bothered by her knowledge of weaponry, perhaps he was even intrigued. She'd wanted Nelaros to be a villain of sorts, to justify her running, but he wasn't. He seemed to be a good person and that only made her feel worse, although not bad enough to consider actually going through with the wedding.

At the sound of Anders' footsteps in the tunnel outside the training room, Zoya renewed her focus in packing gear for their forthcoming adventure into the bowels of the Chantry, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest that plagued her every time he was near.

"Welcome back, gorgeous. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me." Anders smiled widely at her before whistling in appreciation. Zoya couldn't hold back a girlish giggle as he took her hand, lifting it over her head to twirl her before pulling her toward him. His free hand pressed into the small of her back, gathering her tight against him as he dipped her back, buried his face in the hollow of her neck and breathed in deeply. "Mmmm… someone's had a bath." He pulled away enough to look in her eyes, his eyebrow raised, "Wait… a bath, pretty dress, and flowers woven in your hair… can't be for my benefit or you'd have come looking for me when you got back. What's the story, love?"

Zoya sighed deeply, reluctantly freeing herself from Anders' arms. If she was going to tell him the truth, now was the time. She strode across the room and knelt before the large trunk that held various pieces of her mother's training armor, digging through it to retrieve Adaia's old fighting leathers. Anders settled against the edge of the work table, waiting expectantly for her to speak, but Zoya kept her eyes turned toward the trunk. She pressed her face into her hands, fighting back the tears burning behind her eyes; her voice cracked as the words finally tumbled from her. "I'm not even sure where to start – it's all such a mess. I guess a part of me hoped that if I never spoke about it, the whole thing would just go away. And then Isabela gave me a way to escape, but he arrived early and they moved the ceremony to tomorrow."

She froze as she heard him approach and kneel next to her, suddenly sure she didn't want him to offer her comfort, or even worse, pity. Anders wrapped his hands around her wrists, gently prying her hands from her face. "Who arrived early? What ceremony?"

Zoya ducked her head as a sob shook her. She pushed the words through a tight throat. "My betrothed. I'm to be married tomorrow."

Anders' eyes widened in surprise, reacting to her words as if he'd been slapped. Dropping her hands, he rose to his feet and backed away from her, sighing as he rubbed at his temples. His voice was little more than a whisper when he spoke. "I wish you'd told me about this sooner. Do you love him?"

"I hardly know him - we only met for the first time today. I never wanted this – it was something my father planned without any input from me. I thought we'd be gone well before Nelaros arrived." She wiped angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand before wrapping her arms around herself.

His eyes searched hers, conflicting emotions playing across his face before walking back to her, reaching down to take her hand and pull her to her feet. Cupping her face, he tenderly brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb. "Well, it seems we need to get you out of Denerim before the wedding tomorrow. So what's the plan?"

A relieved smile broke through Zoya's tears; she pressed her cheek against his palm. "I have to return to the Alienage soon for a welcome dinner. But I'll duck out before sunset – I've already told my father that I'll need to assist my employer tonight as he prepares to leave town. Then I'll return here, change into some burglary-appropriate clothes, and we can head out to meet Isabela at the Chantry. If all goes as planned, The Siren's Call will leave the dock before the sun rises, and we'll be on our way to meet her friend in Amaranthine and get our share in the profits from the Chantry loot."

"Sounds like a good plan to me." Anders brushed a tendril of hair back from her face before sliding his fingers along the edge of her ear and back along her jaw. Whiskey-colored eyes dropped to her lips as his fingers traced their fullness.

"Anders, maybe we shouldn't…" She took a halting step toward him as fingers memorized the lines of her face and trailed down her neck. Her voice was breathless when she spoke, "Maybe you shouldn't touch me like that…" Her eyes closed as she bit her lower lip, knowing she didn't mean it even before the words left her.

Anders took a step toward her, "Is that really what you want?" His hands drifted over her shoulders and down her arms, his fingers tangling with hers as he brought her hands to his lips. "You feel it too, don't you?"

Zoya nodded as her arms twined around Anders' neck, her whole body trembling under the searing touch of his hands. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the intensity of his gaze. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tight against him as he lifted her off her feet. His name escaped her as a groan as her body melded to his, "Anders, I…"

"Maker… Zoya, I don't think I can live without this…" Fire ignited in her veins as his lips brushed feather-light over her mouth. He held her firmly in his arms as he moved across the room, his lips and tongue teasing, encouraging her to open to him.

The gentle insistence of his mouth and the heat of him pressed against her fed the flames growing at her core. Suddenly emboldened, she threaded her fingers in his hair, encouraging the kiss to deepen as she parted her lips to slide her tongue along his. Focused on the feel and taste of his mouth, she was surprised to suddenly feel the hard edge of the work table against the back of her thighs. Anders pushed their gear out of the way, wrapping his hands around her waist and lifting her up to settle her on the table. As he stepped in close, his hands traveled up her back to tangle in her hair, tugging softly to tip her head back. Goosebumps rose on her skin as his mouth traveled down her neck to explore the pale skin along the neckline of her dress, the feel of his rough stubble contrasting with the heat of his lips and tongue as he tasted her skin.

His breathing was ragged, only fueling the pounding of her heart. She gasped as his fingers traced along her collarbone and over the curve of her breast before tugging at the ties of her bodice. Pulling away reluctantly, she trapped his face in her hands and brushed a thumb over his lips. He ducked his head, hoping to recapture her mouth, but she eluded him, locking her eyes with his. She sighed deeply, "Anders… This is all happening so fast. I don't trust myself to... I've never…"

Anders took a deep breath and closed his eyes, fighting to regain control. He rested his forehead against hers as his hands caressed her face. "Zoya, I'm so sorry. We can take all the time you need. You have to know I'd never hurt you…" He tipped her mouth to his, his lips tenderly lingering on hers for a moment before offering a lopsided grin. "You should probably head back to the Alienage or you'll be late for dinner." Soft fingers stroked her cheek before plucking a flower from her hair; she watched, breathless and trembling, as he turned and walked quietly out of the room.

~oOo~

The Chantry courtyard seemed to be empty when Zoya and Anders arrived. They skirted the stone wall surrounding the complex, staying in the shadows as they approached the well near the far end. Even in the Alienage, Zoya had heard stories that the Chantry's well was the best place to drop things you wanted to make disappear - she was hoping that she and Anders wouldn't be considered among those things.

Isabela slunk out of the shadows as they approached, her voice little more than a throaty whisper when she spoke. "I wasn't sure you were going to show. And what a waste that would've been! You wouldn't believe who and what I had to do to get this map and duty roster – I'm spent and feeling a little dirty. And believe me, that's saying something!" She shuddered as she smoothed the map out for them to look at. "We can get to the Chantry tunnels through this well – about 30 feet down is a landing. There's a crack in the rock off the landing that's large enough to squeeze through, then we follow a series of side tunnels until we get to the repository – it should be about an hour in."

Anders leaned over the well, peering down into the darkness. "Wait, we're going down there? How do we get to the landing?"

Isabela smiled, "Afraid of the dark, sparkles? Don't worry, I'll go first and tie off a line if you provide some light. Then the two of you just slide down. I'll even attach a safety line if it'll make you feel safer." She offered a wink to Zoya.

"And once we're in the tunnels – how much resistance are we going to encounter?" Zoya let her eyes wander over the pirate. She'd lost most of the gold jewelry and swapped out the white tunic for a dark one and leather breeches. Two deadly-looking daggers were visible on her back, and Zoya guessed that she had others hidden elsewhere.

"My sources tell me that at this time of night, there shouldn't be any guards down there. They're only around when escorting the scholars to and from the repository. Apparently it's creepy in the tunnels. Who'd have thought it?" Isabela shrugged and grinned wickedly. "Besides, that's why you're with us – to use that stealth magic of yours. With that trick, who cares if there's a hundred guards."

Zoya shook her head. "While I appreciate the confidence you have in my abilities, there are limitations to what we can do while stealthed. And I've never kept myself hidden for an hour, let alone three people."

Isabela twirled a dark lock of hair around her fingers as she looked at Zoya appraisingly, "So what you're saying is we should have concerns about your stamina? Too bad, I had great hopes…"

Zoya felt a blush rise in her cheeks, "No, no worries about my stamina. I'm more concerned about how much unwanted attention we're likely to attract if we stay in stealth for that long. The problem is demons - mages that close to the Fade is like dangling a soup bone in front of a pack of mabari. Eventually one of them is going to get hungry and latch on."

Anders frowned at her. "Zoya, the Fade is nothing to play with."

"Who's playing? I know what I'm doing, Anders. We'll be fine if we stay in physical contact with each other, don't step through the Veil into the Fade, and don't run into any Templars or demons. Hmmm… l guess that is a lot of 'ifs' – we'll be fine. I've been doing this particular trick for a long time." Zoya gave him a reassuring smile. "For you both to stay stealthed, you'll need to stay in contact with me. I figure Isabela can go first – she has the map so she can guide us. I mean it Isabela – my skin has to be touching your skin at all times in there."

Isabela's eyes grew wide as she grinned. "Ooohhh… Does it have to be hands or can it be any skin?"

"I don't even want to know where you're going with that question." Zoya shook her head.

Anders quirked an eyebrow, "Heh, I wouldn't mind further discussion of this…"

Isabela fiddled with the stud below her lower lip, her face thoughtful. "So let me get this straight - your hands will be occupied by holding onto Anders and I. So what happens if you have to sneeze? Or have an itch?"

"Seriously? We're going to a place between this world and the Fade. Anders and I are likely to attract the attention of any matter of nastiness. And you're worried I might sneeze?" Zoya shook her head and raised an eyebrow as she regarded Isabela. "Alright, enough talk – let's get this done already."

Isabela pouted, "Still so bossy! Fine…" She tied the end of her rope to the windlass and wrapped a shorter length around Anders before securing it to the mainline. "Did I ever tell you about that dream I had - it involved you and a Templar and rope..." Isabela winked at the mage as she grabbed hold of the well's bucket and slid silently over the stone edge surround. Anders chuckled as he conjured a wisp, its light flickering along the stone as Zoya turned the windlass' crank and lowered the pirate into the well's depths. Isabela's voice echoed from below, "That's enough – lock the crank. I'll tug the rope when it's tied off and you can head down."

"Is it too late to change my mind about this?" Anders offered Zoya a lopsided grin. "No? A kiss for luck then, love?"

Zoya stepped toward him and checked his knots. She tugged him closer, sliding a hand upward along his chest to clasp the nape of his neck and pull him down to her, ardent lips melding into each other. A tug on the rope brought them back to their task; she sighed as their lips parted. "I suppose we better head down there."

Anders brushed a hand over her hair and kissed her forehead. He slipped over the well's surround, "See you down there, gorgeous." With a wink, he disappeared into the darkness.

Zoya peered over the edge but Anders was already hidden from view; the shimmering light of the wisp reflected off the stone sides of the well and the water far below. She smiled as the rope jerked in her hands, pleased at how quickly Anders had made it to the landing. Leaping onto the surround, she grabbed hold of the rope, wrapping her legs around it as she slid into the shadowy abyss.