122. A Rose By Any Other Name

He and Kazar were stuck sharing a tent, and wasn't that just peachy?

Down in the tunnels, they had managed a couple hours of walking, once the others had held a little service for the fallen blood mage. Leliana led it very sweetly, considering she'd barely known the guy, and, when Kazar was asked to say a few words, he just shook his head. Alistair just kept a respectful silence through the thing, because wow. Sacrificing his life? For Kazar? Just... wow.

And through it all, he couldn't help but imagine how angry Teagan and Eamon would be that Jowan escaped justice, and that they had the gall to be tardy about it too. It made him want to giggle, and that was wrong of him, so he bit his cheek and kept his silence.

So, once that was done, and Felicity had one last go at Alistair's injuries (his shoulder still throbbed where the demon had dislocated it), they gathered their stuff, ignored the angry Taint song in their veins, and started the long journey back to civilization.

They got a couple hours of walking in, and then they found a side chamber to sleep in, and then they continued the next day, and the next, until they finally broke out into the surface air.

And, on a chilly mountainside, they made camp, and Alistair had to share a tent with Kazar.

It wasn't as bad as it might have been. Throughout the journey from Redcliffe, Felicity had accounted in the minute detail she was incapable of not putting into things what, exactly, Kazar had been like the past few weeks. It took Alistair a while to figure it out, but he eventually realized she felt guilty for not noticing the change, and no amount of "it's not your fault"s from Alistair convinced her otherwise.

So it was a little unnerving, just how quiet and thoughtful Kazar had become. Sure, he wasn't acting like his demon-possessed version; that was the point of the whole creepy blood ritual. But he was also not acting much like the Kazar Alistair remembered from before that. The arrogant little prick who slung fireballs into friend and foe alike. This Kazar was... muted. Pensive. He would even say guilty, but that couldn't be right.

Still, Alistair could kind of see why the girls wanted to baby him. Especially when Alistair ducked into the tent that night after dinner (mostly to escape cleanup) to see Kazar already bundled up in the blanket, apparently cold even though it wasn't really that chilly this far down the mountains.

Alistair paused in the entrance of the tent and frowned. "Did you eat?"

The elf mumbled something into the pack he was using as a pillow. It didn't sound like a "yes."

Alistair sighed and stepped into the tent to start divesting his armor.

After a minute, Kazar raised his head to stare at him through narrowed eyes. "You're not going to drag me out and stuff food down my throat?"

Alistair paused in unbuckling his chestplate. "You want me to?"

"No."

"Good." He got back to what he was doing.

Kazar stared at him, and Alistair was working on his greaves by the time he spoke again. "Why not?"

He dropped his hands, because he didn't really want to be talking to the mage when his hands were anywhere in the vicinity of his pants. "Why not what?"

"Why aren't you bossing me around? I would've thought you'd be glorying in it."

Alistair blinked over at him, confused. "Glorying? Why would I be glorying?"

"Because you were right, dumbass." Kazar flopped back down into the covers. "You were a perfect little Templar who was right the whole damn time, and I was just a stupid mage who got mixed up in things over my head, and I should have been made Tranquil a long time ago."

"I... never said that. Did I?"

"It was implied, moron."

Alistair just blinked down at him, trying to make that make sense. Yeah, he didn't particularly like the tetchy twerp, but that didn't mean he wanted to turn him into... one of those empty, soulless things.

He thought about that while he worked off the last of his armor, leaving him in his undertunic (which could use a run through a river, to be honest). Finally, he asked, "Did you learn your lesson?"

"What, are you Felicity now?"

"Are you going to consort with demons again?"

Kazar sat bolt upright, wearing a sharp, insulted glare. "Of course I'm not going to consort with demons again, you nitwit! What do you take me for?"

Alistair kept himself from rising to the bait. "Good. Then you learned your lesson, and there's no reason to hound you about it."

Kazar studied him with narrowed eyes. "I was an abomination. How could you not... you don't care? All that crap about me being out of control before, and then I let a demon in and you don't fucking care!?"

"Of course I care." Alistair sat down on his bedroll. "But it's done, and, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse."

"I was a demon."

"Right. A powerful one. And you know who you used that great scary power on?" Alistair held up two fingers. "Flemeth, and the archdemon." After a pause he added. "Granted, only one of them stuck, and I don't really think she's dead-dead, but they were both set back a bit, so that's a good thing. Really, you didn't actually hurt anyone, when you could have pretty easily leveled a small city."

"I killed Jowan."

"No... no. That's not true. Jowan killed Jowan."

"He did it to save me-"

"Because he cared about you, for some reason. Felt guilty as all get-out that you'd gone the way you had, and he wanted to do his part to fix it." Alistair played with the edge of his sleeve. "I couldn't stop Isolde from doing that for Connor, either."

Kazar was silent at that, and when Alistair looked up, the elf was looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry," the mage said. "About the Connor thing. We jumped into it too fast."

Alistair sighed, because he'd had time to think about that, too. "No, you just did what you thought was right at the time. If Fin and Meila backed you up, I have to assume there was reason for it."

"But if I'd been more prepared, I wouldn't of..." Kazar swallowed. When he looked up at Alistair, he was biting his lip uncertainly, and that was a weird expression to see on the elf. "Connor's demon isn't dead. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, we kinda figured something like that."

"The deal was that she would come back, years from now, to reclaim Connor. That was what she got for teaching me blood magic."

Alistair nodded thoughtfully. "Well, could Connor learn to shut her out by then? If he's trained at it?"

"Probably? She wasn't particularly strong... not like Mouse was. If he's properly prepared... maybe?"

"Then that's what we'll do."

Kazar stared at him. "You're being really calm about this. It's creepy."

Alistair shrugged. "So are you. Maybe we both grew up a little bit, huh?"

Kazar snorted and laid back down. "Lies. You're never gonna grow up."

"Did you just call me childish? And how old are you, again?"

Kazar stuck his tongue out at Alistair and rolled away, and it really was like having an obnoxious little brother.

The strains of a lute sounded outside. It sounded like the girls were settling down for a bit of campfire time. An evil little thought curled into Alistair's head, and he grinned.

Kazar seemed to sense it, because he looked over his shoulder at him and said, "No."

"It'll be good for you." Alistair pushed himself up.

"No, it won't. No! Don't you dare!"

Ignoring his protests, Alistair scooped Kazar up and slung the elf over his shoulder, carrying him ogre-style out of the tent and to the little campfire. The ladies laughed as they emerged, and again when Alistair plopped Kazar onto a makeshift log bench and the elf assumed the most epic of pouts.

"Can't have family bonding time without the obnoxious little brother."

"It's good of you to join us, Kazar," Leliana said diplomatically, tuning her lute.

Meila, beside her, was working on fletching new arrows. Felicity, meanwhile, was in the dirt in front of the fire, sorting herbs that she had been collecting all day into piles. Alistair took a seat on the ground next to her. The grateful smile she sent him was worth the trouble, at least.

"I've got one you might know," Leliana said, and started singing what Meila assured them was a Dalish children's folk song. Apparently, Meila had been telling the truth, because a little smile lit Kazar's face, and he was rapt as the two archers wove harmonies together in Elvish.

A small, warm hand wound into his, and Felicity leaned into his shoulder. "We heard what you were talking about just now."

"Hm. Note to self... tent walls are not sound-proof."

She jostled his shoulder. "Thank you, for giving him a chance."

Alistair shrugged awkwardly.

Felicity gave him one more smile and went back to work. Alistair watched over her shoulder, listening with half an ear as the Dalish song ended, and Leliana started teaching the elves a call-and-response sea shanty.

"So..."Alistair whispered, "what are you doing?"

"Making sure my ingredients are holding up. They will be less efficient if they begin to rot or flake."

Alistair hummed in understanding; he'd listened to his fair share of herbalists at the Chantry over the years. He furrowed his brows. "Is that a peony? I've never seen that used as an ingredient."

"I'm not surprised; it is not traditionally used among the Chantry and the Circles."

"So... Morrigan?"

She nodded. "Morrigan was kind enough to teach me a number of her mother's home-brews. Honestly, they are often more effective than the traditional ones, if perhaps a bit more volatile."

"Well, that matches Morrigan perfectly."

"Doesn't it just?" Felicity beamed at him, and he got that mushy feeling deep down again.

He pursed his lips, because there was something he'd been sitting on for a while. And this seemed like as good a reason as any to bring it up. "What about... roses? Are there any secret uses for roses?"

"Roses... hm, not that Morrigan mentioned."

"Oh. Okay."

She looked at him curiously. "Alistair? Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. It's silly. Forget I brought it up."

She nudged his arm playfully. "Don't give me a mystery, Alistair. You know I'll always pursue a mystery."

He laughed, because, yeah, she had a point. "All right, all right. You caught me. One moment." He pulled away from her (even though he didn't really want to) and stood up, then padded over to his tent. He didn't really need to dig to find it; he'd wrapped it in a scarf a long time ago.

He took a moment to himself, listening to the soft, sweet song that Leliana was singing, and he just breathed. His heart was pattering, and butterflies alighted in his stomach. He ran his thumb gently over the stem to sooth it.

This was silly. She'd think he was an idiot.

Well, she'd find out eventually, right? Might as well give it a shot.

With a calm resolve he usually reserved for the battlefield, he made his way back to the campfire, his prize cradled carefully in one hand, and knelt back down next to her.

"That is a rose."

"Um, right. Yep. Certainly is."

She watched him expectantly.

"I picked it in Lothering. Because it was so amazing to me, that such beauty could exist in a place of such misery and fear. I've kept it as a reminder that even during disasters, life and beauty will find a way to live on."

Her eyes sparkled in the starlight. "Alistair, that's beautiful."

He tried to look away before he said something stupid. "While we were looking for the Ashes, it reminded me of you." Too late.

"Alistair?"

"I mean, the whole 'beauty in darkness' thing... it's like you. You find learning and insight in the bleakest circumstances. Cataloging a darkspawn breeding grounds? Anyone else would have been too terrified, or creeped out, or whatever, but you sat there and you took notes, because you knew that what you were learning would add to future knowledge. It's amazing to me that you do that. And now I'm babbling. Shutting up."

He dared a glance at her; her eyes were shining. Oh Maker, he'd made her cry. His awful metaphors had made her cry.

But then she was scooting around until she was kneeling in front of him, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and drew him down into a kiss.

He couldn't get used to it... how soft and warm and sweet she was. They'd kissed lots of times by now, traveling together as they were, but most kisses had been fast and consoling. This one was fond and leisurely and meaningful.

When they pulled apart, he had to clear his throat before he could speak again.

"So.. right. That's why I was wondering about whether you wanted a rose. Because you can have it... if you like." She sat back, and he thrust the rose out for her. "You can use it for potions. Or whatever. However you want. I'd just like you to have it."

She took a while looking between Alistair and the flower, all while Meila sang something soft and sweet in Elvish in the background. She reached out and carefully took the rose. She studied it with the focus that only she could pull off, fingers gingerly brushing the dried petals. Alistair swallowed, because this wasn't how she usually handled an ingredient. This was how she handled something precious, like an old book or artifact.

"Thank you, Alistair. This means a lot."

It did. "You've put up with so much, and still you're so kind, and smart, and wonderful. I just..." His tongue tied itself in knots, and now she was crying and smiling. "I just thought you should know that I care about you. A lot. You're the best thing that's happened to me."

She sniffled, hiding her mouth and nose in the hand not holding the rose. "The... the sentiment is mutually reciprocated."

He blinked. "Wait, you mean you feel the same?"

She nodded and grinned, and he just had to reach out and sweep her up into another kiss. She launched into it, and he let the momentum overbalance him and send them both to the ground.

The rest of the world faded away for a while, because he had an armful of warm, happy mage, and that was the most important thing in the world right now.

"Seriously, get a room."

Kazar's taunt reminded him that, oh, right, they weren't exactly alone. He sat up, face hot. A glance at Felicity showed her dark blush as well.

"If you wish, you may use ours," Meila said matter-of-factly.

Alistair opened his mouth, but no words came out, and his brain didn't seem capable of producing any.

Fingers threaded through his own, and he suddenly didn't mind the catcalls much. He turned to Felicity, who was smiling up at him with something new in her eyes that sparked something hot in himself.

"Um, well..." he mumbled, and he knew his face was red as a tomato, "Would you want... I mean, would that be okay?"

Her duskier skin didn't show her blush quite as just wasn't fair. "Oh yes, I think that would be quite okay."

He smiled, squeezing her hand as she smiled back. "Okay. Awesome."

Slowly, she drew him up onto legs that had gone a bit wobbly and, their hands linked, led him out of the firelight.

Back at the campfire, Leliana launched into an Orlesian love song.