Stepping in slow circles so that her eyes could trail around the whole circumference of the room, Elissa attempt to seek out the answer that was evading her. Such a simple thing yet the task of finding it was proving itself to be unexpectedly difficult.
"Stone?" Elissa ventured at last, eyes settling back on Leliana lying in the bed.
The Bard shook her head.
"Not stone," Elissa muttered to herself and resumed her slow rotation of the room, concentration furrowing her forehead.
While Leliana's earlier reassurance had been welcome, there remained some remnants of walls between the two women and both had sensed the mutual desire to avoid any topic which may have led to those walls being rebuilt. Yet without playing cards, drink or any other chore to occupy the time, the Bard and Warden were reduced to childhood games.
Smothering a sigh, Leliana repositioned herself on the bed. Elissa seized on the movement as if it was part clue and with a self-satisfied smirk, she folded her arms across her chest. "Sheets."
"No."
"No?" Deflated, the Warden's arms fell to her side. With a little groan, she gave up the pretence of riveting entertainment and rubbed at her forehead. "Oh, I give up. What S do you spy with your little eye?"
"Scripture," Leliana looked towards the bookshelf on the far side of the room, near the door.
Spinning in place, Elissa squinted at the bindings but even in her position in the centre of the room, she was unable to read any of the spines. She turned back to Leliana with an accusatory glare, "You're making that up."
"Am I?" Leliana maintained a deadpan expression.
With a surge of competitiveness engulfing any rational perspective, Elissa stalked across to the bookcase and leaning forward began to trace a finger across the spines. Mumbling the titles as she went, it was a few minutes before her finger halted at the spine of a book.
In the silence which followed, Liahn looked up from her crafting and arched an eyebrow. "Well, Warden?"
Elissa straightened but kept her eyes focused on the bookcase. With a bad grace she muttered, "There is a copy of the Chant of Light."
"What was that, dear one?" Leliana feigned deafness.
Elissa whirled round but catching the mischief that flashed across Leliana's face, she regained her misplaced humour and the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth warmed her tone. "Fluke, Leliana. And don't you dare tell me otherwise."
"The Maker can be found all round us if only we choose to open our eyes," the mischievous glint began to morph into a smile but before it could blossom, Leliana grimaced and her hand snaked up towards the bandage across her face.
Catching her patient's discomfort, Liahn rose from her chair and moved to the Bard's side. In a well-rehearsed movement, Elissa turned back to the bookshelf and focused unseeingly on the range of titles in front of her. A routine which had been repeated throughout the day, it had come as a shock to discover that traces of vanity still existed in the Bard. When Liahn had made to examine Leliana earlier in the morning, the Bard had initially demanded that Elissa step outside but unable to find the courage to grant her friend even that small request, the Warden had been forced to beg permission to be allowed to remain. Seeing the rising panic begin to consume Elissa, Leliana had relented although she insisted that the woman move to the other side of the room and turn away. Eager to placate the Bard, Elissa had agreed without hesitation and ensured that she followed the instruction each time the mage approached Leliana.
"I need to fetch another salve," Liahn chided from behind her. A low grumbling pitch of a murmur communicated Leliana's displeasure at the news. The sound of the mage's voice cut through the protestations. "I will do no such thing. I will be a few minutes, that's all."
Without waiting for any further arguments, Elissa risked a glance towards the door as Liahn entered into the periphery of her vision. The mage pulled on the handle and slipped out without a backward look towards either woman.
An uncomfortable silence descended over the room and busying herself with reading each and every title in front of her, it took a few moments for Elissa to recognise the sound of intermittent whimpering when it finally broke through. Unable to decide whether to ignore or acknowledge it, the sounds tugged at her heart and she tentatively spoke up.
"Leliana?"
There was no response and Elissa risked darting a look towards her friend. Sitting up in the bed, one hand hovering over her right cheek in an attempt to hide the injury while the other pressed against her mouth as she attempted to stifle the sounds, the Bard's eyes were squeezed shut as she desperately tried to hold back her tears.
"Oh, Leliana," Elissa abandoned her aloof position in favour of perching on the bed and wrapping her arms around the woman.
Still with a lingering expectation that she would be pushed away, it was a welcome surprise to have the Bard lean against her. Elissa cradled her friend, careful to angle herself so that she did not brush against the injury which Leliana still hid from her.
"So... stupid..." the words were spluttered into her shoulder between the whimpers which were quickly becoming fully-fledged sobs.
As the tears threatened to course down her face, Leliana pulled away and desperately tried to divert her salty tears from the burn. The woman's vanity forgotten for a moment, Elissa was able to see the full-extent of the injury for the first time. The skill of the healers had prevented infection from setting in but it was already clear that scarring would be inevitable.
Unaware that pity had crept onto her face, it was the resentful glare from beneath tearstained eyelashes which alerted Elissa to the fact that she had intruded into the other woman's space. Swallowing, Elissa stood up and made to back away in an attempt to mollify the accusations which she could sense were building on the tip of Leliana's tongue.
Stumbling as her heel caught the edge of the chair while she kept her gaze fixed anywhere but Leliana, the return of Liahn halted the escalating tension between the two. Both women turned away from one another and looked towards the mage, their combined gazes causing even Liahn to hesitate. Glancing between the two the mage guessed at the cause of tension and with a dirty look directed towards Elissa, began bustling about the room as she collected the rest of her healing supplies.
"Warden, wash your hands," she pointed towards a small bowl filled with water near her crafting equipment.
"What?"
"Since you seem to want to involve yourself, I can make use of you. No doubt I will have returned to the Tower before Leliana's injuries are fully healed and she will need someone who can help her. It may as well be her friend."
Neither Leliana or Elissa missed the emphasis but it didn't prevent Elissa casting a helpless look towards Leliana in an attempt to seek permission.
"Warden," Liahn huffed with an impatience bordering on short-tempered.
Cowed by the mage, Elissa obediently wetted her hands before drying them on the small cloth beside the bowl. Nearing Liahn's side, both Bard and Warden purposefully kept their gazes away from one another.
"Watch," Liahn began her instruction through demonstration as she deftly cleaned the one side of Leliana's face. Despite the resolute manner in which Leliana sat bolt upright, the Bard winced and Liahn murmured some small reassurance as her fingers stilled for a second to let the painful sensation pass. After Leliana settled, Liahn continued with her teaching and her demeanour towards the Warden softened as she appreciated the respect Elissa showed towards her skill. Encouraging questions, Liahn demonstrated the lightness of touch required to smooth the salve over the puckered skin while trying to spare Leliana as much discomfort as possible. Finally a fresh bandage was cut and reapplied to the woman's face.
Wiping her hands on the cloth, Liahn admired her handiwork before turning to Elissa. "Next time, you'll do it."
The Warden paled. "If Lelia..."
"You'll do it," Liahn repeated, gathering up the leftover supplies and pushing past the Warden. Turing her back on the two women, the mage occupied herself with sorting through what remained and organising it neatly on her little table.
"C."
Turning back to face Leliana, Elissa was caught off-guard and she spoke without thinking. "See what?"
Still sitting bolt upright, the skin on Leliana's uninjured cheek was a faint pink and her jaw revealed that she was gritting her teeth. Her gaze remained steady however and she seemed intent on boring a hole into the back of the mage.
"I spy with my little eye something beginning with C."
Sitting in a corner of the grubby little tavern, the sneering scowl which came so easily to Torih's face ensured that there was no invitation for pointless conversation from the patrons milling around him. And, aside from the Crow who maintained a suspicious vigilance over him from across the room, it seemed to be an arrangement that suited everyone.
Hand curving around the wooden beaker that he could only presume had once been shown an ale barrel even if it had not been filled by one, Torih confronted the fact that he was at a loss of how to advance his enquiries. The female was under guard. The bastard was being interrogated. And of the four companions which remained, three were already aware of his intentions. Having being forced to approach and question more than the group who had travelled with the Wardens, it had quickly become clear that little was known outside of the immediate companions they kept company with. Time and time again, he had encountered the fantastical gossip that had little basis in fact and all in myth.
Shooting a dark look towards the ever watchful Antivan, Torih permitted himself a curse. Overconfidence. Experience of drinking with Korgik should have told him that Oghren would have taken more time to break than he had available but overconfidence had persuaded him otherwise. There was no doubt in his mind that the female and bastard had contrived with some demon or dark magic or something. But such conviction did not appear to herald results and the only snippet of new information he had gleaned from an unintentional conversation with one of the Templar Knights was that the Witch of the Wilds was rumoured to be pregnant.
Aware that the Witch had spent the last few weeks in the presence of the bastard, Torih had pressed further. The guise of concern that an apostate was to be allowed to roam free with her child when both of whom were surely vulnerable to the enticing offers from demons provided a suitable platform. The Templar had glowered as his zealot rage ignited but the elf had ascertained in between the Chantry propaganda that the child, whoever the father, had not been rumoured to be tainted. With no apparent connection to the bastard Warden despite the tantalising detail that the Witch was only a few weeks gone, it seemed irrelevant. A pity. Revealing the bastard's indiscretion to his reportedly ever faithful beloved would have provided an amusing diversion.
An unbidden snicker escaped from the elf and he hunched further over his cup in an effort to ward off any attempts to join in on the joke. None were forthcoming but distracted from his own thoughts, Torih became aware of the tingling sensation of dirty looks being thrown at him from more than just the Crow. Keeping his eyes to the table but beginning to concentrate on the snippets of conversations around him, he became aware of the new rumours which were occupying the tavern. He had encountered increasing resistance earlier in the day as gossip from the Arl's estate had filtered through the streets of Denerim that the King had been dragged from the estate kitchens by two – no, three – no, four of the Orlesian Grey Wardens not long before midday. Now though, the rumour seemed to be that some form of challenge had been made by the Orlesian Grey Wardens and the King had been seen storming through the estate, bellowing for Eamon, no more than an hour or so ago.
A decidedly discomforting feeling was permeating throughout the tavern as the gossip passed from person to person and Torih was aware he was swiftly becoming the sole focus of it. With a snarl, he pushed his tankard away and climbed to his feet. Throwing some coin on the table behind him, he pushed through the various groups of people, neatly sidestepping the sly feet which attempted to trip him up and escaped into the early night air. If rumour of the bastard's temper tantrum was true then it was a signal that Argarth would be waiting for his return.
Heading in the direction of the Arl's estate, it did not take much wit to realise that he was being followed.
Turning mid step, Torih faced the two drunks. Lip curling at the sight of the men, his hand moved to the small blade hidden beneath his clothes at his back.
"There he is," one slurred, staggering against the side of a wall. "There, he's fucking one of them."
"What ... what do you want... with our... our King?" his companion interrupted.
Refusing to be drawn further into an argument against inferior as well as inebriated wits, Torih turned his back on the men and continued towards the estate. The only concession he allowed himself was the knife which now rested flat against his forearm, grip secure on the handle.
"Hey! I asked you a question!" the second drunk hollered after him. "Ignorant bastard. You'd think with those knife ears, they'd sodding hear better."
His friend cackled. "Our Hero'll take no shit off fucking Orlesian knife ears."
Unable to smother the flare of temper, Torih rounded on the men who pricked up at the reaction.
"Here, he's a cocky twat, in't he?" the second drunk nudged the first.
"Reckon they'll miss him?" his friend sneered, advancing a step towards Torih.
"Ah, my friends, I believe the King and Hero would be most displeased to find the blood of their brethren staining the streets, no?" a calm voice spoke from behind the men.
Glimpsing the owner of the voice through the gaps as the men spun round, Torih growled.
"Another fucking knife ear," the first man began before his friend elbowed him in the ribs.
"Shut up Donal, that's the Hero's sodding companion, that is. He's alright, he is."
Zevran bowed low in acknowledgement of the introduction. "You are too kind, friend." Reaching into his leathers, he pulled out a few coin and tossed it at the feet of the second man. "Such recognition deserves reward. A drink, on me."
The man fell to his knees and scrabbled about in the dirt. Snatching at the scattered coins, he ducked his head towards Zevran and yanked his friend by the shirt back towards the tavern. Moving aside as the pair scuttled past, Zevran approached the elven Warden.
"Your intervention was not required," Torih snarled.
"For you, perhaps," Zevran's gaze darted down to the hand which still gripped the knife. Satisfied that he had made his point as the Warden self-consciously flicked the switchblade closed, he met Torih's hard stare once more.
"I have no interest in speaking with you, Crow."
Zevran gave a small shrug. "As you wish."
Thrown by the easy capitulation from the Antivan, Torih hesitated. Perhaps a conversation with the Crow would reveal some small detail that could be seized on. Returning to Argarth with the precious little he had uncovered would not be sufficient, he knew this already. But to engage the Antivan in discussion, especially when the assassin was already aware of his true intent, would be risky.
Rolling his tongue in his mouth as he sized up the elf in front of him, Torih sheathed the knife in its place at his back. "But perhaps you have an interest in speaking with me?"
A low chuckle rose from the Crow. "Come. Let us find more... agreeable... surroundings, yes?"
Following the retreating figure of Zevran as the elf moved through the streets of the marketplace towards the gates, Torih found himself relishing the anticipation of the challenge ahead of him.
Watching the stars beginning to creep out from the clouds that drifted across the night sky, Leliana rested her cheek against the head of the sleeping Warden curled against her. Liahn's intervention, unwelcome as it had been, had served to fracture the last of the undercurrent tension between the women. With Elissa having exhausted all possibilities of something beginning with 'C' other than the one they both knew the Bard intended, the women acknowledged the need to grind the rubble still strewn between them into dust and they had spent the afternoon talking with one another in hushed tones.
After their evening meal, they had been content to fall into a companionable silence. Watching as the Warden's head had begun to droop, Leliana had coaxed her into lying beside her and now the Bard pulled the young woman closer in an effort to prevent the night chill from disturbing her. Liahn glanced up from the book in her lap at the movement but reassured that there was no cause to concern, she returned to reading.
Feeling Elissa stir as she neared to waking, Leliana began to hum under her breath in an effort to quieten her. The young woman sighed deeply and stilled while the sound of low voices travelled from outside the door. Her response earlier in the day compared with now told Leliana who was outside and she eyed the door as she waited for Alistair to come in.
Her voice trailed off at the sight of him when he did finally enter. Although he found the energy to flash a crooked smile at her, it did little to chase away the cares which were written across his face and in the way he held himself. Gone was the fresh faced young Warden she was accustomed to seeing.
Discarding her book on the table, Liahn hastily got to her feet as her lips pursed into a disapproving line.
"Please, don't send me away." The plea was further coloured by a desperation in his voice he was unable to hide.
"You need rest," the mage insisted.
"I know. Trust me, I know," he ran a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. "I just want to see Leliana and then I'll take Elissa back."
An indistinct mutter from under her breath came from the mage but with a hint of grudging tact, she moved to the door behind him. "Very well. I need to speak with the Templars and it would be helpful if someone would watch over them. But," she fixed a look on Alistair, "when I come back then you must promise to go and rest."
Nodding eagerly, he held the door open for the mage. As Liahn exited, he pushed it closed before approaching the bed. Leaning down with one hand resting against the headboard as he steadied himself, he brushed a kiss across the Bard's forehead. "How are you?"
Leliana smiled at him and glanced down at Elissa out the corner of her eye. "We are well."
"Good," his other hand stroked Elissa's hair for a moment, needing the physical contact before believing what he was told.
"I wish the same could be said for you," the Bard murmured. "You look awful."
"Thanks," his face morphed into a grin before settling back into a worried grimace.
"Is it about her?" Without thinking, Leliana tightened her arm around the Warden.
"Isn't it always," Alistair sank onto the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his knees and he supported his head in his hands and although he offered no further explanation, he swallowed repeatedly as though there were more words trapped in his throat.
Unable to move her arms for fear that she would wake Elissa, Leliana looked for a way to offer some comfort to him. Miscalculating the new signals her body required, the movement of her leg which was intended to be a reassuring nudge against him became a sharp kick. Controlling the gasp which would reveal it as an accident, Leliana assumed an unruffled facade as Alistair rounded on her with a disgruntled glare.
"You deserved that."
"What, a kick up the arse?" he blurted without thinking.
A small giggle escaped from her while a groan which deepened into a chortle came from Alistair. The different pitches penetrated into Elissa's sleep and she began to stir again. Leliana took up her soft singing once more.
Listening to the words, Alistair gave a start. "The noblewoman and the what?"
Leliana spluttered with laughter as the raised eyebrow mutated into furrowed outrage as he worked out the pairing. Skipping a few bars, she regained her composure and continued with the self-penned song.
"No wonder you're a Bard. Your skills as a minstrel are horrendous."
Leliana aimed another kick at him but he scooted beyond her reach before she could connect her foot with his body. Deprived of any physical retaliation, Leliana resorted to the only retribution available to her. Her efforts were rewarded by a dirty look from Alistair as the first unflattering descriptions of the Templar recruit in her song reached his ears. Smiling sweetly, she continued with her character assassination.
Alistair shook his head as he settled himself down in the chair Elissa had been using most of the day. Closing his eyes, the melody soothed his troubled mind and helped to distract from the whispers which echoed round his head and lulled him towards drifting off.
Studying him from beneath her eyelashes, Leliana continued to sing. Moving on from the descriptions of her protagonists, the lyrics tripped off her tongue with an ease that was at odds with the difficulty she had in finding any words that might help him.
"Stop staring at me," he grunted, eyes still closed.
"Oh how could you know that?" she broke off from the song with an irritated grumble.
His shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh and he cracked an eye open. "I know everything."
"What you know, Alistair Theirin, would not fill a thimble."
Expecting a mock pout followed a snarky retort, she was taken aback by the bitterness that tinged his reply.
"You're probably right."
Regretting her teasing, Leliana bit her lip. "I did not..."
"It's alright," he waved away her apology before she could speak it and rubbed at his eyes. "It's just been a long day of being talked at."
Resuming her singing, Leliana revised her description of the Templar recruit as means of a peace offering. A small smile surfaced as he peered at her between his fingers and the faint sign of amusement served to lighten his mood somewhat.
Abridging the events, Leliana continued with her tale and was halfway through describing how the now handsome and virtuous Templar saved the noblewoman from an unscrupulous mage when Alistair interrupted her.
"How does it end?"
The Bard glanced up at him from where her unseeing gaze had fallen. She blinked at him as she waited for him to expand on the question.
"The song. How does it end?"
The words faded back into a hum as Leliana considered the real question he was asking. "How would you like it to end, dear heart?"
Deliberately obtuse, Alistair avoided being drawn. "You're the songstress. You tell me."
After a moment of consideration, Leliana committed herself. "Happily ever after."
"Happy endings don't exist," he countered flatly, leaning forward in the chair as though her words had robbed him of any peace he may have found in her company.
"Oh Alistair," Leliana shook her head with a click of her tongue, "Is there anything more heartbreaking than someone who has lost faith in stories?"
"Happy endings don't just happen," he rose to his feet and moved around the room, picking up and putting down whatever his hands came across without really examining what he touched.
"I never said they did, dear heart," Leliana murmured as she watched him. "You asked how the song ended, not how it got there."
"You knew what I meant," he snapped, still facing away from her. Stopping with one of Liahn's glass vials in his hands, he looked over his shoulder. "Tell me how the song gets its happy ending."
"I do not know. They are not at the end yet."
"So you have no idea whether there is a happy ending or not," he replaced the vial on the table and moved towards the bookcase with a derisive snort.
"You cannot skip to the end simply because you do not like the middle, Alistair. A story is more than its ending."
"The ending is all anyone remembers."
"Not to those living it," Leliana replied quietly, almost to herself.
Alistair chose not to respond, flicking through a book he had picked at random. Not having the heart to continue with her singing, Leliana leant down and murmured in Elissa's ear. A few moments and the Warden opened her eyes with a sleepy grunt.
"Hmm?" she blinked up at Leliana before her gaze settled on Alistair. A contented smile spread across her face. "Oh, hello love."
Shoving the book back wherever it would fit, the transformation which descended over Alistair was not as perfect as Elissa's had been but within moments the frustration and simmering anger that the previous conversation had released was hastily smoothed over with an ill-fitting nonchalance.
"Hello. I thought you were supposed to be keeping Leliana company?" he walked back towards the bed.
"I was but she's too comfy," Elissa pushed herself into a sitting position and stretched. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long."
A frown crinkled her forehead as she stared up at him. "You look tired, love."
"He has been waiting for you to wake, dear one," Leliana broke in, nudging her friend as a prompt for Elissa to get to her feet.
Swinging her feet over to the side of the bed and standing up, Elissa turned back and bent down to kiss Leliana on her uninjured cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Of course, dear one," Leliana nodded before looking past Elissa towards Alistair with a small hint of doubt. "And you, dear heart?"
He eyed the Bard. He was reluctant to leave on an argument but had no wish for Elissa to know what had been said. "Because they're heroes. That's why they get there."
The seemingly non-sequitur statement caused a look of confusion to surface on Elissa's face but Leliana broke into a smile.
"And heroes deserve happy endings."
Shepherding a now bewildered Elissa to the door, Alistair shot an exasperated look towards Leliana. "We'll see you tomorrow."
Clutching at his hand, Elissa allowed him to guide her into the hall. Keeping her eyes to the floor, she trusted to Alistair to manoeuvre her towards her room while she attempted to harness the over-whelming panic that threatened at her senses. Although she could rationalise that the hellish nightmare she had imagined was yet to materialise, she had no wish to linger for longer than was necessary.
Reassuring murmurs in her ear, the distance seemed shorter than it had in the morning. Hearing the scrape of the door across the floor, Elissa let out a breath as she found herself surrounded by familiar walls again. One of the servants had left a candle alight by the bed. Alistair paused outside while he dismissed the guards for the night.
Moving to the bed, she pulled the sheets around her without bothering to undress. Shutting the door firmly behind him, Alistair followed suit and collapsed on the bed with a groan.
"Alistair."
"Go to sleep, love," he rolled onto his side and nestled against her. There was the sound of a soft crinkle and he rolled onto his back with a muffled curse, reaching into his pocket for the forgotten letter. "Here, for you."
Elissa sat up as she accepted the grubby letter and unfolded it. Her breathing stilled for a moment as she peered at the faded writing in the weak glow of the candle and Alistair allowed himself to wonder if he was ever destined to get more than a few hours rest for the remainder of his life.
"What now?" his tone was resigned.
"Fergus survived Ostagar," she said simply.
Propping himself up on his elbow, Alistair attempted to squint at the letter over her shoulder. "What?"
Elissa abruptly folded the vellum and dropped it on the small table. She leant across and blew the candle out before shuffling down the bed so she could lay back down.
Bemused, Alistair tried to make her out in the gloom. "Love?"
"It can wait until morning," she tugged at his shirt indicating that he should lie back beside her.
Obligingly he settled down and gathered her closer to him. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, love. Got to sleep," she encouraged.
He didn't need to be told twice.
Cheesy lines? Me? No, never... ;)