With thanks to my beta reader, WellspringCD, especially or the super-fast turnaround on this chapter. Thank you to those who read, and especially to those who comment; your continued support spurs me on.
It took a week to walk to Denerim. Their journey had been uneventful until they neared the Lothering road, then Fearghal had had his first experience of being able to sense darkspawn. The pricking along his skin had almost made his hair stand on end. Alistair had noticed his reaction and grinned at him, asking, "You feel it too?"
After encountering several more bands of the foul creatures, Fearghal was starting to grow used to the sensation. It had depressed him a little, yet another sign that he was truly a Grey Warden; there was no going back. He had tried not to take his morose mood out on his companions, even to the extent of making the effort to find out a little more about them. If nothing else, talking to them kept his own dark thoughts at bay and, in their own way, they had all given him something to think about.
The road became markedly busier as they neared Denerim. Mostly refugees, but a number of mercenary bands too; enough that the wardens and their companions didn't stand out. They found a suitable camp site and got their tents up quickly. It was late afternoon and Fearghal was keen to get into the city before the gates were locked for the night.
"Sten, Morrigan and Wynne, I want you to wait here. I'm going to take Alistair, Zev and Leliana into Denerim," Fearghal told them. Leliana looked surprised, but pleased to be included in Fearghal's party.
"The city gates will be locked soon, Fearghal. You won't have much time," protested Wynne.
Fearghal grinned. "We won't be back tonight. Teagan gave me the key to his town house." He dug the scrap of paper Teagan had given him out of his pouch and handed it to Wynne. "That's the address. I reckon on us staying one, maybe two nights. If you haven't heard from us after that, feel free to come and look for us."
Fearghal disappeared into the tent he shared with Alistair and reappeared with his pack. Alistair eyed it curiously. Fearghal grinned back at him. "Laundry. I intend to leave Denerim with clean clothes and blankets, if nothing else." Fearghal chuckled as Alistair, Leliana and Zevran all disappeared into tents, reappearing with packs bulging with dirty clothing and stale bedding.
It took them almost an hour to get into Denerim, finally making it through the gates just before they were locked for the night. The crush of refugees flooding into the city gradually dispersed as they got further from the gate. Fearghal looked around uncertainly, unsure which way to go.
"What's the address?" asked Alistair. Fearghal told him and was surprised when Alistair said, "This way," and set off down one of the side streets. He led them through a maze of small streets and lanes which eventually opened up into a broader street. The houses were a good size, but not overly large. Yellow light shone through the windows of most of the houses, but as they progressed down the street they came to a house that was completely dark.
"Teagan said there was a key on the lintel in the outhouse at the back," Fearghal told them.
"Wait here," muttered Zevran, slipping through the gate at the side of the house. Moments later he was back, grinning and brandishing a large iron key. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door wide for the others to follow him. Thankfully, there was a lamp on a ledge just inside the door and it only took a few seconds of fumbling with a flint to light it. The warm glow of the lamp revealed a generous lobby, with stairs rising to the upper floor. A passage on the left ran to the back of the house and, presumably, the kitchen; on their right a door led into a large room that ran almost the full length of the house. There were plenty of lamps; when lit the room was revealed as an all-purpose living room with easy chairs and a small settle at one end, with a table and chair down at the other. One long wall was lined with book shelves that rose from floor to ceiling.
Fearghal browsed the titles. "There are some books by Brother Genetivi here." He pulled out a book and leafed through the pages. Alistair picked out a book at random and opened it. At his startled squawk, the others looked over at him. He was gazing at the book, his eyes wide, blushing furiously.
Zevran sidled over to him and looked at the book, then grinned. "Hmmm, 'A Banquet of Chestnuts', and illustrated too."
"Ooooh," breathed Leliana. "I haven't seen a copy of that since I left Orlais! It is banned there too, of course, but is still widely available, if you know where to look."
"You've read this?" squeaked Alistair, his eyes almost popping out of his head as Zevran grabbed the book off him and turned the page. His eyes were drawn back to the book as Zevran turned the page again; he swivelled his head to one side, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. His eyebrows shot up as he started to mentally unravel the tangle of limbs and bodies. "Maker's breath! Is that even possible? How are they... ?"
Leliana peered over Zevran's shoulders. "Oh my! This is a beautiful copy. The illustrations are exquisite; so much detail."
Alistair gaped at her. Leliana gave him an arch look. "I wasn't always a chantry sister, Alistair."
Alistair grabbed the book back from Zevran and stuffed it back onto the bookshelf. "I'm going to see what's upstairs." He grabbed a lamp and stomped towards the door.
He flinched as he heard Zevran say, "My,my! One look at an erotic book and he's already checking out the sleeping arrangements. So keen!" Fearghal snorted with laughter and he heard Leliana murmur, "Zevran, don't be so wicked." It was impossible to ignore the hint of laughter in her voice, for all her words.
Feeling embarrassed and stupid, Alistair carried on up the stairs. He hesitated at the door to what appeared to be the master bedroom. It was obvious that he didn't know Teagan at all. Zevran had made that clear at Redcliffe Castle and his 'library' only confirmed it. Maker only knows what might be in his bedroom. Hearing the others at the bottom of the stairs, Alistair pushed the door open.
Alistair felt silly for feeling so relieved that Teagan's room looked so 'normal'. A large bed dominated the room; blankets and an eiderdown were folded neatly at the foot of the bare mattress. There was a washstand with a bowl and jug on it, and a solid-looking chest at the foot of the bed. He noticed that there were small side tables at each side of the bed.
Fearghal and Zevran opened the two other doors on the landing. Both appeared to be guest rooms. Zevran peered into the master bedroom and grinned at the sight of the large bed. "Three bedrooms, but there are four of us. Hmm, Leliana... I think you and I should take the large bed, yes?"
Leliana narrowed her eyes at him. "I think not, Zevran," she snapped, entering one of the guest rooms and closing the door firmly behind her.
Zevran pouted, then shrugged. "Ah, never mind. Which one of you gorgeous wardens wishes to share this bed with me?"
"What?" spluttered Alistair.
Fearghal grinned at him, then Zevran. "I think you should take the other room, Zevran. Alistair and I are used to sharing a tent, so we'll take this room."
Zevran sighed theatrically. "Such a waste of a quite splendid bed. Unless you two plan to... "
His words were cut off as Fearghal grasped his arm and thrust him into the second guest room and shut the door.
Alistair shook his head. "Does he ever stop?" he muttered, embarrassed by Zevran's innuendo. It was far too close to the truth for comfort. Sharing a tent, where usually one or the other of them was on watch anyway, was a different prospect to sharing a bed, big though it was. He considered suggesting he sleep downstairs on the sofa, but the others already thought him a prude. He didn't know if he could take their teasing.
Instead he turned and went back down the corridor, to the large cupboard at the end. As he hoped, it was full of linen. He picked out what he needed, then headed back to the large bed chamber and tossed the pile of linen to a bemused Fearghal. "You sort the bed out, I'll go and check out the kitchen. The fire'll need to be lit for hot water and so on." He turned without a backward glance and went downstairs to the kitchen. As he expected, there wasn't much food, mostly dry goods, but there was plenty of firewood and he soon had a decent fire going in the hearth. He arrived back in the bedroom and almost burst out laughing. Fearghal had managed to get the covers on the pillows and was wrestling with a large sheet, looking hot and flustered.
"I got a fire going in the kitchen. How are you doing with the bed?" asked Alistair, trying his hardest not to grin.
Fearghal scowled and tried to flick the sheet across the mattress; it didn't go far as he was standing on one corner. "Maker's cock! I swear this thing is alive!"
"Want a hand?" asked Alistair, as casually as he could.
Fearghal nodded and Alistair sauntered to the other side of the bed. "I thought you'd have had it done by now. A Grey Warden, defeated by a bed sheet. Disgraceful, really." Alistair held out his hand for the sheet and Fearghal almost threw it at him.
"They always made it look so easy!" groaned Fearghal.
"They?" asked Alistair, straightening the sheet then flicking it out across the mattress. "Oh... servants. I suppose it's different when you have staff to do this sort of thing for you," he said with a grin.
Fearghal glared at him, then looked slightly sheepish. "Oh, shut up!" he said, grabbing a pillow and throwing it Alistair.
"Hey! That's no way to treat the help!" protested Alistair, tossing the pillow back at Fearghal.
Fearghal swatted the pillow away and grasped the edge of the sheet, pulling it taut and stuffing it under the mattress. "You don't count as help, you're not getting paid," he chuckled.
Alistair came round to Fearghal's side of the bed and shook his head, tutting. "You wouldn't be getting paid either." Fearghal was astonished when Alistair untucked the sheet. "Like this," he said, "You have to get the corners right, so it doesn't some undone."
Alistair performed a complicated manoeuvre with the corners of the sheet that Fearghal didn't quite follow. "See?"
Fearghal shook his head. "I didn't quite get what you did there. Show me again." He picked up the other sheet and handed it to Alistair.
Alistair unfolded the sheet and laid it across the bed, tucking it under the bottom of the mattress. "Watch," he instructed. "Lay this corner up here, tuck this bit in, then bring that bit back down and tuck it in too."
Fearghal frowned and shook his head. Alistair sighed and went to the other corner, Fearghal following him. He went through it again. "Do you see?"
Fearghal grinned. "I get it... but we seem to have run out of corners to tuck in."
Alistair's eyes went wide. "Why you sneaky... " He stopped and picked up the blankets from the top of the chest. "There's still these to do." He chucked the blankets at Fearghal. "Get to it, warden. If I don't cut myself on those corners, you'll be on pot duty!" he warned in a stern voice.
Trying not to drop the blankets, snorting with laughter, Fearghal managed a shaky salute. "Yes, ser!"
Fumbling, he got one of the blankets across the bed and tucked in, after a fashion.
"Maker's breath!" groaned Alistair, "I never saw anybody make such a dogs dinner of a bed before!"
"Look! You make the damned bed, I'll cook breakfast," offered Fearghal.
"Done!" agreed Alistair.
Alistair straightened the blankets, tucking them in neatly. He grinned slyly up at Fearghal. "You do realise that there's not a bite to eat in this house. You're going to have to be up very early tomorrow." He flopped on to the newly-made bed. "I think I'll have a lie-in... you'll have a lot to fetch. Let's see... bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, bread... ooof!"
Alistair didn't see the pillow coming. He grabbed it off his face and leaped up off the bed, brandishing it at Fearghal. "Oh, sparring again, eh? Arm yourself, ser. Fear the might of my pillow!"
As Fearghal reached for another pillow, Alistair swung his hard at Fearghal's head, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling across the bed. Alistair rained blows down on him, while Fearghal started to laugh. "I shall smite you with my feathers!" Alistair roared. Helpless with laughter, Fearghal raised his arms trying to fend off the pillow. Finally he managed to grab it, just as Alistair pulled it back to swing again. There was an almighty rip and feathers exploded all over the room.
"Oops," said Alistair. "I didn't mean to smite you that hard."
"Just what are you two doing?" demanded Leliana. She was standing in the doorway, arm folded, looking most disapproving.
"Er... nothing?" offered Alistair sheepishly, trying to hide the ruined pillow behind his back.
Leliana looked pointedly at the feathers wafting through the air. "Oh? I could have sworn there were two boys in here having a pillow fight."
Fearghal hauled himself off the bed and looked around innocently. "Nope. Just us wardens in here, discussing... warden... things."
Leliana raised an eyebrow. "I see. Zevran suggested we go out to a tavern to eat. There's one in the Market Square, The Gnawed Noble; he says the food's good in there."
"I know it," said Alistair. "We'll just... er..." he waved a hand around at the feathers, "catch you up."
They listened to Leliana descending the stairs, her voice drifting back up through the open door. "Can you believe they were having a pillow fight? There are feathers everywhere. Wynne is right, they are like children. They cannot be left alone for five minutes... " There was a loud click as the door closed behind her.
Fearghal caught Alistair's eye and sniggered. "Come on, let's get this lot cleared up. I'm starving!"
They set to clearing up the feathers, stuffing them back into the torn pillow, which they took downstairs and put on the kitchen fire. They beat a hasty retreat as the feathers started to burn, the acrid stench making their eyes water.
Fearghal stopped Alistair as they made their way to the door. "You've got some feathers sticking out of the back of your armour."
Alistair twisted, trying to reach. Fearghal reached across and removed them, his fingers brushing against Alistair's neck as he did so. Alistair's heart started pounding at the touch; he prayed to the Maker that he wouldn't blush.
Fearghal turned round. "Just check I haven't got any... I'm sure I can feel something."
Alistair peered at the back of Fearghal's neck. There was a single, small, white feather that had worked its way down under the back of his shirt. With trembling fingers, he reached down and plucked it out. He cleared his throat. "Just the one... got it."
"Thanks," said Fearghal. "Let's go and find the others."