Disclaimer: I don't own DA:O or any of its characters.
A/N: I just wanted to give another thanks to my readers. Your comments are always greatly appreciated! I always look forward to the feedback I receive; and of course, I love all of my silent readers as well! This chapter is a bit shorter than the rest. I was going to include the next...well development in this chappie, but decided to split it up. That way things don't seem too jumpy. Enjoy!
11. On The Road Again
I spare a glance at my reflection in the mirror. As the mage had predicted, there are no scars on my face, only a slight bit of bruising colours my jaw and contours my eyes. I spend the next morning packing my clothes and what few possessions I had brought to the palace. Sadly everything manages to fit in two large sacks. Somewhere my mother is spinning in her grave at the thought of her only daughter having so little. Oh well, she'll have to make do with the fact that what I lack in material worth, I more than make up for in spirit. As if that's supposed to be consolatory. As I'm buckling a belt to my battle robes, Zevran enters my room.
"Bruises seem to suit you," he remarks. "I daresay the purple brings out your eyes."
"Ha ha, very funny," I deadpan. "Have you heard who's all coming with us?"
Zevran nods and begins counting off our travelling companions. "There will be the king of course, as well as a few of his trusted guards. He also felt it best to bring along the mage that healed you last night." He pauses and licks his lips, as though contemplating whether or not to continue. "I also took the liberty of inviting a friend of mine. I believe that her talents will be quite useful in the days ahead."
"Oh?" I tilt my head to one side. "Who is she?"
"You'll find out soon enough," he smiles. "She will be joining us on the North Road."
I shrug a shoulder. "Very well, if you say you trust her, then I'm fine with it. Are you all packed?"
"Yes I am. We will be leaving within the hour, or so I'm told. How are you faring? Has your shoulder healed?"
"It's much better, though still a bit stiff. Can't really complain, considering the alternative would have been dying," I toss a grateful smile his way. "I wanted to thank you again for saving me, Zev. If you hadn't been there…"
Zevran places a finger to my lips. "Do not think about such things, my dear. The point is, I was there. That is all that matters." He wraps an arm around my shoulders and guides me from the room.
The first couple of days on the road were quite uneventful. We tried our best to go unnoticed, but a group of people surrounded by royal guards was sure to garner at least a bit of attention. Luckily no one was stupid enough to try to rob us, but the few people we did meet on the road were quick to beg us for food or money. Alistair was always generous with such people, and gave them as much food as he could spare without causing the rest of us to starve. When we set up camp on the third night, I decided it was time to get to know the mage that had helped me out during my time of need. Admittedly I had hoped to spend a few moments of privacy with Alistair, but since we'd set off from Denerim, spare time was something he could not afford. He was constantly surrounded by his guards, and while I was happy to chat with him any time that I could, talking was all we could really do. Especially since he'd taken that silly vow to woo me like a gentleman, and think with his big head instead of the head he possessed south of his belt. I tried to tell him that the latter could be used on me any time he wanted, but he seemed set on courting me in an honourable fashion. Honour is so overrated, but I digress. I find the mage seated by the fire, taking small bites of an apple.
"I was so wrapped up in everything that I'm afraid I forgot what few manners my mother had taught me, and foolishly neglected to thank you for helping me," I take a seat next to the mage. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Elissa." I hold out my hand to the mage.
She takes my hand in hers and shakes it firmly. Good, I can't stand people who give me wimpy handshakes. "I am Bridget, my lady, and you needn't apologize. If anything, I should be thanking you. Were it not for you and the king, the mages would not have autonomy." She tucks a stray strand of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.
"Given the aid you provided during the Blight, I think you've more than proven yourselves worthy," I sigh, shaking my head. "I only wish the Chantry saw things the same way. Why do they have to be so bloody pigheaded?"
"It's what the Chantry does best," Bridget replies. "I'm quite surprised that a noblewoman such as yourself is so…open minded about mages."
I grin ruefully. "You mean, you're surprised I'm not some pious lady that thinks anything the Chantry says is the word of the Maker and we should therefore follow their ideas to the letter?" I roll my eyes. "Until I get solid evidence that they have a direct line to the Maker, I think I'll go with my gut. And my gut says that magic is not nearly as horrific as the Chantry would lead us to believe. If I've learned one thing in my travels, it's that people fear what they don't understand. I don't think you should be put on a leash just because you were born with certain skills."
Bridget smiles at me widely. "My lady, I think you and I are going to get along just fine." We both laugh softly and continue to gaze at the fire, watching as the flames dance and cast embers out into the stony fire pit. After a time my eyelids begin to droop from exhaustion and I excuse myself, letting everyone know that I'll be turning in for the night. I slip into my tent and change into a linen shift, one that scarcely provides enough warmth to keep me from freezing to death. I curl up in my bedroll and close my eyes, settling in for another uncomfortable night.
"Elissa? Elissa are you awake?" a voice whispers from the entrance of my tent. My eyes flutter open.
"I am now," I hiss back. "Who's there?"
"Alistair," comes his reply. "Listen, I have a, uh, favour to ask." He opens the tent flap, and by the faint glow being cast by the campfire, I can tell he's wearing nothing but a pair of wool trousers. The sight of his broad, muscular chest is enough to rouse me from my sleepy state. My mind begins to run through several naughty scenarios involving me licking various substances from his delicious abdomen. I give myself a mental shake. Such thoughts only lead to more frustration.
"Maker's breath, Ali! You must be freezing!" I prop myself up on my elbows.
"What? Oh, I'm fine. I'm used to it," he grins lopsidedly. "Did you just call me Ali?"
I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. "Yes, I guess I did. Sorry, I didn't mean to address you with such familiarity." I mumble.
"No no, I kind of like it. I'll just have to come up with a cute pet name for you too," he winks at me playfully, and I resist the urge to throw a pillow at his head. "Anyway, I came for a reason. I have a problem in my tent."
"Do I really want to know?" I ask wearily.
He blinks a few times. "Huh? No, nothing like that! There's a…there's something in there that I had to get away from." He casts a glance over his shoulder.
"Oh dear, it wasn't Zevran, was it?"
He shakes his head, his expression solemn. "No, Zev I can handle. This was a…" he takes a deep breath. "It was a spider!"
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle a giggle. When Alistair casts a reproving glance in my direction, I lose all control and start laughing hysterically. "You…you were scared off by a spider?!" I'm clutching at my sides as he scowls at me. "You're the king…and…and a Warden, and you're scared of a spider?!"
"I'll have you know it was a very large spider with lots of eyes and hairy legs and very very scary teeth!" he shudders. "Reminds me of someone I used to travel with during the Blight. An apostate who was able to shapeshift."
I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I suppose you want me to kill it for you?" I ask between gasps of laughter. He shakes his head. "Then what do you need me for?"
"I don't want to be in my tent anymore…so can't I just stay in yours?" he's giving me an innocent smile, but I know better.
"Let me get this straight. There's a spider in your tent that you're terrified of. Rather than kill it and be done with it, you want to instead stay in my tent, even though yours is perfectly suitable?"
"That's about the size of it," he replies. "So, can I stay?"
I let out a groan. "Fine, but no hogging the blanket." I shift over in my bedroll to accommodate him. He crawls over to me and slides in next to me. I turn onto my side to give him enough room to sleep on his back. Instead, he curls next to me, spooning me against him. I feel the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against my back. I silently thank the Maker for the fabric separating his pelvis from my hind-quarters. When I feel a strong arm circle my waist to draw me closer, my pulse quickens.
"Mmm, much better," he murmurs into my hair. "I knew I'd find a way into your bed," he jests.
"One more word and I'm dropping that spider onto your face while you sleep," I threaten.
That shuts him up.