Sorry for the gap in transmission, there were crossed wires! Thank you to all who read, and particularly those who review. Thanks, as always, to WellspringCD, my beta reader and comma wrangler.
Alistair couldn't suppress a shudder as a firm hand grasped him and started to stroke. He leaned into the side of the neck against him, inhaling the heady, masculine scent. He didn't recognise the room he was in but the body against his was familiar. Fearghal. His hands roamed over the muscular body, savouring the strength he could feel in the tightly coiled muscles. Intoxicated, Alistair felt an upsurge of emotion as he was carried away on a tidal wave of desire. "I love you, Fearghal," he murmured into the solid neck. "Maker, I love you so much." The hand grasping him squeezed and Alistair couldn't stop himself from thrusting into the delicious friction. He heard himself moan loudly. He tried to stifle the sound, slightly embarrassed at the noises Fearghal always managed to wring from him, but it felt so damned good, he couldn't stop; he didn't care who heard him.
~o~O~o~
Fearghal watched Alistair's eyes flutter open, apparently woken by the volume of his own moaning. He couldn't suppress his smirk as he watched the range of emotions flicker over Alistair's handsome face; desire, embarrassment, confusion, then, finally realisation. Alistair shifted slightly, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of his own cock and Fearghal's bound together by the firm grasp of Fearghal's large hand.
"Good morning." Fearghal couldn't keep the shit-eating grin off his face.
"G-good mornnn... " The rest of Alistair's greeting was lost in a husky moan as Fearghal thrust into his own hand, rubbing himself along Alistair's length. "Oh, M-Maker, that's so... "
The sight of Alistair's face, his eyes dark with desire, lips parted as his breath came in hoarse gasps, sent a thrill coursing through Fearghal. He leaned forward, unable to resist the lure of the tip of Alistair's tongue as it flicked over his upper lip. Fearghal soon found himself groaning into Alistair's mouth as he felt the other man start to thrust into his hand.
Fearghal tried to make himself last but Alistair's enthusiasm, his hungry desire, eroded what little self-control Fearghal had left. He's like a starving man at a feast. Alistair's release followed moments after Fearghal 's, accompanied by a wrenching groan that ran through Fearghal, all the way to his toes.
Fearghal rolled on to his back and Alistair nestled his head against his shoulder, his eyes drowsy with pleasure. Fearghal tried to shut out the words that Alistair had murmured just before he surfaced from sleep; he tried to tell himself that he had misheard Alistair's almost incoherent mumbling. There had been no mistaking the sound of his name, though. Alistair was dreaming; it means nothing. He's never been with anyone before and fancies himself in love, when it's really lust.
Fearghal sighed. He liked Alistair a great deal; it was a friendship that had become very important to him in a short space of time. But he didn't love him. His heart still belonged to Rory and he couldn't imagine how that would ever change. He felt a pang of guilt. He found Alistair extremely attractive and, although inexperienced, he was an enthusiastic lover. Am I taking advantage of him? He loves me... or thinks he does...
Fearghal's musings were interrupted by a loud knock. Before he had a chance to reply the door opened and Runa bustled in bearing two large jugs.
"Good morning, Wardens." She beamed at them before crossing the room to set the jugs down. "Breakfast will be about twenty minutes. I would have brought your water earlier, but you sounded busy." She headed towards the door, turning before she drew it closed behind her. "Still, I reckon you'll have worked up quite the appetite." She winked at them and was gone.
Fearghal stared after her. Remembering the argument he'd had with Alistair the previous night, he glanced warily at him. Alistair was staring at the closed door, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Fearghal watched as Alistair visibly pulled himself together and looked back at him, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.
"Did she... was she... while you... we were...?"
Alistair looked so appalled, it was comical. Fearghal tried to stifle a wild desire to laugh, but the harder he tried not to, the more he wanted to. An undignified snort of laughter erupted from him and he saw Alistair's lips twitch. The sight was all the encouragement Fearghal needed; he stopped trying to fight it and howled with laughter. Alistair merely rolled his eyes at Fearghal's mirth and got up, heading to the water closet.
~o~O~o~
It was hours later that a dejected group consisting of Fearghal, Alistair, Leliana, Zevran and Morrigan trudged through The Commons. Each one of them was appalled in their own way at what they had found in Dust Town. The little that Zevran and Leliana had told them following their brief foray hadn't really prepared them for the utter hopelessness that was Dust Town.
They had glimpsed the dark underbelly of Orzammar even before arriving at Dust Town. Leliana had disappeared into a small shop in The Commons which, apparently, had been closed the day before. The others had followed her, hiding their smiles, or in Morrigan's case, rolling her eyes and sighing loudly. They were a little disconcerted to find they had walked in on what appeared to be open extortion. A group of dwarven thugs surrounded the shop keeper, reminding him that his 'security payments' were due; one of them toyed with a crystal decanter, letting it drop to the floor when the terrified shop-keeper had protested that, due to the succession crisis, business was dire.
Fearghal had growled and started towards the group of thugs only to stop as the wide-eyed shop-keeper had turned to him, frantically shaking his head. The thugs had pushed past them, sneering, and it was all Fearghal could do to hold on to his temper. It was only the shop-keeper's silent entreaty and the memory of the warning they'd received from the guard on their arrival to 'keep their place' that stayed his hand. While Fearghal's temper cooled, Leliana murmured sympathetically to the shop-keeper, drawing forth information about the Carta. As far as Fearghal could tell they were a gang of thieves, possibly worse, working out of Dust Town.
As they explored Dust Town, Fearghal started to understand why the casteless turned to crime. After a brief skirmish which they saw off easily enough, they were left to explore unmolested. Word had spread quickly and most of the dwarves in Dust Town vanished as they saw them coming; Fearghal was beginning to despair of finding anyone who would be willing to talk to them. Not that the squalor that surrounded them needed much explanation, but he did want to find out if these wretched people had any opinion on Harrowmont or Bhelen.
Eventually, they'd come across a beggar who only spoke to them because she was crippled and couldn't get away quickly enough. Although wary at first, she'd relaxed when Fearghal had offered her a few silver for a hot meal, if she would just answer some of their questions. At the prospect of an easy meal, she'd become quite chatty. The woman, Nadezda, had told them that she used to be a runner for the Carta until she'd been caught by the Orzammar guard, who'd broken her legs.
"You used to work for the Carta? But they're... " Alistair stumbled to a halt, realising he'd been about to say something the woman might take offense to. He'd been surprised when she'd laughed.
"Criminals? Sure they are, gorgeous, but they're the only way to eat in Dust Town. No-one out there will employ us," Nadezda told him with a contemptuous nod in the direction of The Commons.
When questioned about Bhelen and Harrowmont she'd merely laughed again.
"What do I know or care of princes and lords? The only thing anyone in Dust Town is interested in is what we can filch off 'em."
When Fearghal had slipped the coins into the woman's filthy hand, she'd grabbed his arm. "Give me a hand up, handsome."
Fearghal had helped her carefully to her feet and handed her the crutch. It was almost painful to watch the woman struggle to move on her crippled legs. She'd hobbled a little way then called out to someone. An anxious-looking young woman holding a baby had emerged from a nearby hovel. Nadezda spoke to her, then handed her the money and took the baby off her. They had watched as the woman struggled to make some progress on her crutch, clutching the baby to her chest. In the end, unable to watch any longer, Leliana had rushed forward and offered to carry the baby.
They had all fidgeted impatiently until Leliana re-emerged, some fifteen minutes later. They were all a little taken aback when she returned on the verge of tears. All except Morrigan.
"Well, well. The cripple has told you a sob story and you have fallen for it hook, line and sinker."
Even Morrigan was astonished when the normally good-tempered Leliana rounded on her.
"You... you... salope! That young woman's baby is wasting away because she cannot feed herself properly and is unable to nurse him. And all because she refuses to abandon him in the Deep Roads."
At their shocked exclamations, Leliana explained that although the baby's mother was of the Smith Caste, the baby's father was casteless. When the baby boy was born he had abandoned them both. The young woman's family had thrown her out when she refused to abandon her baby.
"When Wynne and I studied the Orzammar's caste system, I had not realised all the implications it might have, in practice." Morrigan looked embarrassed before clearing her throat and continuing, "It seems a wasteful system for a people whose birth rate is so low."
The others looked at her, saying nothing, allowing her to save face. None of them had ever heard Morrigan apologise for anything.
By the time they left Dust Town, they were all thoroughly depressed, each lost in their own thoughts, struggling to make sense of what they'd seen. Fearghal halted outside the Proving Ground.
"Let's go and see what we can find out about this Proving tomorrow."
The guards at the doors eyes them warily, but allowed them to pass without protest. Inside, there were clusters of people dotted around the large hall; most seemed to be in heated discussions relating to the merits of various contestants.
On enquiring about who to speak to, they were pointed in the direction of the Proving Master. The jovial white-haired dwarf eyed them astutely, his expression turning to something akin to glee.
"Well met, Wardens."
"You know we're Grey Wardens?" Fearghal eyed the Proving Master warily.
"Well, it's all over the city that the Wardens are back in Orzammar and you're the only humans I've seen in almost a year. Who else would you be?" The Proving Master's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Did you want to enter the Proving?" he asked hopefully.
"Can we even do that?" Fearghal was still unsure that fighting in the Proving was a good idea, but after what they'd seen in Dust Town, he dearly wanted to smash his shield against a few dwarven nobles' heads. Or their champions, they probably wouldn't lower themselves to fight.
"Sure you can. We dwarves love to watch a good fight! We ain't picky about who fights, as long as they put on a good show."
"Oh? Are the casteless allowed to enter?" asked Fearghal innocently.
The Proving Master looked scandalised at the suggestion. "D-dusters in a Proving?" he spluttered indignantly.
"Sorry, my mistake. Forgive me, ser. Your ways are still very new to us, I didn't mean to give offence." Fearghal smiled benignly as he spoke the lie.
"Hmm, none taken," grumbled the Proving Master. "So, would you like to dedicate your contest to anyone? The Proving is in Prince Bhelen's honour."
"Can we dedicate it to the Grey Wardens?" Fearghal glanced at Alistair, who nodded back at him.
"You could do that." The Proving Master reached for a ledger.
"Very well. Alistair and I will enter and dedicate our contests to the Grey Wardens who fell at Ostagar." Out of the corner of his eye, Fearghal saw Alistair's start of surprise.
"Now, Warden...? The Proving Master looked at Fearghal expectantly.
"I'm Fearghal. This is Alistair."
The Proving Master entered their names into his ledger, then looked up at them. "There will be a couple of rounds of single combat and, if you win those, you'll go through to the paired combat. You want to fight together for that or will you each pick seconds, assuming you both get through?"
"We'll fight together, if that doesn't make organising things difficult for you."
"Not at all, Warden Fearghal. I should be able to shuffle things around a bit to accommodate that." The Proving Master peered down at his ledger, clearly already working it out. He looked up at Fearghal and Alistair. "If you get through that, then the last contest is a team event, four a side."
"Would we be allowed to include a mage in our team?"
The Proving Master looked startled, then thoughtful. "It's never been done, but there's nothing in the rules against it, so, yes, you can include a mage, if you wish." He chuckled. "We have no magic in Orzammar, that would be an interesting fight to see!"
"Very well, thank you. We'll see you again tomorrow." Fearghal bowed and turned to leave.
"Oh, Warden! One last thing. You are allowed to bring an assistant, someone to watch your gear, patch you up, if necessary, that kind of thing."
Fearghal tried to keep his face impassive, merely nodding, then beckoned the others to follow him. He could hardly wait for the Proving.
~o~O~o~
Leliana scrambled off the bed at the soft knock on her door. She was surprised to see Alistair standing there, smiling sheepishly at her.
"I just wanted to see if you were all right, Leliana. I know it upset you in Dust Town today and you were so quiet during dinner, I... well, you know... " Alistair shrugged at her, blushing slightly.
"Come in, Alistair." Leliana stood back, holding the door open wide.
Alistair settled himself in the chair, waiting patiently while Leliana sat herself, cross-legged on the bed.
"It is silly of me. I saw Dust Town yesterday with Zevran, it was just that young woman and her poor baby... " Leliana stopped, biting her lip, trying to hold back the tears that welled up when she remembered.
Leliana looked down at the infant in her arms. She hadn't spent much time around such young children, but she knew a baby shouldn't look like this. The babe in her arms looked elderly. Coarse skin stretched too thin across the bones of its face. The baby didn't stir, just stared at some point above her with dull eyes. Leliana loosened the ragged swaddling and felt tears spring to her eyes when she was confronted by stick-arms, tiny wrists, fragile fingers too weak to furl around a proffered finger.
Leliana followed Nadezda into the hovel, too upset to notice the grime, the fusty smell. The crippled beggar sank heavily into a rickety chair and nodded to the other one, indicating Leliana should sit.
"Zerlinda won't be long. Sit yourself down."
Leliana lowered herself cautiously onto the low chair, unsure it would bear her weight. It creaked alarmingly, but held and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
"Zerlinda is your daughter?"
"What? No, girl!" Nadezda's bark of startled laughter gave way to a more sombre look. "All my young 'uns ended up like that poor little mite. I tried to tell Zerlinda that leaving him in the Roads would be for the best, like her Pa wanted, but she wouldn't listen. But then he's her first and I never listened when I had my first either. I was runnin' with the Carta when I had my second, so it was easier, but after him, I made sure I didn't have any more."
Leliana stared at the woman in horror. "Y-you mean the Deep Roads?"
"S'for the best," said Nadezda brusquely. "If she'd done that, her Pa wouldn't have kicked her and her casteless babe out of his house."
"But why would he throw them out?"
"You really haven't been here long, have you, girl?" Nadezda snorted. "The babe's father was casteless and so his son is, too. If Zerlinda had had a daughter, well, then she would have been Smith Cast, like her Ma."
"So where is he now? The child's father, I mean."
"Huh, when Zerlinda dropped a son, the father dropped her like a hot brick. Told her he was going to try his luck among the Cloudheads. Zerlinda refused to give up her babe, so she ended up here. She doesn't have a clue how to survive here and... well, I felt sorry for her. My first was a girl and I like to think that if she'd survived she might have grown up like Zerlinda." Nadezda stared off into the distance, then pulled herself together with a grunt.
"She wouldn't have, of course. She'd have ended up running with the Carta or on the game. This place sucks the good out of people; there's no hope here. Still, maybe once he's... you know... maybe her family will take her back. I'll be sad to see her go... she's a good girl."
Leliana almost jumped out of her skin at a movement behind her. Zerlinda had returned. She set the food down on the table and reached out to Leliana for her son. Leliana handed him over, feeling humbled by the look of love on Zerlinda's face as she cradled her son, murmuring quietly to him. She nodded at the two women, unable to speak, and fled the hovel.
"It just seems so wrong!" Leliana told Alistair. "I can't stop thinking of them. It's not just that they're poor, I've seen poverty before, but this is beyond that. It's like Nadezda said, there's no hope there."
Leliana buried her face in her hands briefly, then looked back at Alistair's troubled face with a sigh. "I know we can't fix it, but thank you for listening, mon ami."
"I'll speak to Fearghal about it, see if there's something we can do to help. I know Bennet's cousin in Denerim gave him the name of a contact here. I'd better go and find him. We need to decide which candidate we're going to back."
Leliana thanked him, then watched him leave. It didn't feel enough to only help one person, but it felt like a start and Zerlinda weighed a little less heavily on her heart.
~o~O~o~
Fearghal looked up as Alistair came into the office. "Where've you been? I was looking for you earlier."
"I went to talk to Leliana. She's still upset about that woman in Dust Town." Alistair sat down opposite Fearghal and peered at the piece of paper in front of him. "What are you doing?"
Fearghal screwed up the piece of paper and threw it at the wall. "I was trying to make a list of pros and cons for each candidate and not getting very far. Maker's cock, Alistair! Why can't anything be straight-forward? I was talking to Wynne. It seems that the Shaper of Memories is related to Lord Harrowmont. He's actually related to every noble house in Orzammar, including the Aeducans. He's even more closely related to Bhelen than Harrowmont."
Fearghal leaned back in his chair and watched the realisation dawn on Alistair's face. "Oh, I see."
"Indeed. The only reason I can think of for Bhelen not wanting to show those documents to the Shaperate is because they're not legitimate."
"And if he's lying about that..." Alistair groaned. "Ugh. I really don't want to back Harrowmont, but... "
"Well, you've told me more than once that Duncan used to say 'by any means necessary'. From a Grey Warden point of view, does it matter who is on the throne? All we need is their army."
"You can't mean that!" Alistair looked furious.
"No, not really. I just don't like the thought of backing a man we know to be a liar and possibly worse, and thought you might like it even less than I did." Fearghal's mouth twisted in a wry smile.
"Well, at least we know he's a liar. That has to count for something, right?" In spite of his words, Alistair looked unconvinced.
"Maybe. And while I don't think that his motives for wanting to integrate the casteless into dwarven society are purely from the goodness of his heart, at least he wants to tackle the problem. He has to know that he's going to meet a lot of resistance. So, we back Bhelen?"
"Bhelen," agreed Alistair.
Fearghal stood and pushed back his chair. "I'll send Zevran to meet Bhelen's man in the morning, find out exactly what he needs us to do."
"You don't think we should go ourselves?" Alistair stood and followed Fearghal out of the office.
"If Bhelen is only prepared to communicate through intermediaries, then I think we should follow suit. Two can play at that game." Fearghal locked the office door, then looked at Alistair and grinned. "Time for bed?"