When did she stop biting her fingernails?
Jagged half moon slivers of nail crowned each finger of the hand that Elissa held outstretched towards the Warden-Commander and as a silent tension crept through the room while she and Argarth stared one another down, Alistair found himself fixating on the irrelevant detail.
The reality of having darkspawn blood and gore trapped beneath her nails was one that had made a significant impact on the young noblewoman and ever since Ostagar, he was unable to remember seeing her fingers other than bitten and chewed. That and he could barely remember a time when her hands were not streaked in something or other. Perhaps it was the lack of dirt which made the detail all the more conspicuous.
Her fingers twitched but she straightened them before the movement was especially noticeable and if he had not been staring at her hand then he would have missed it. His gaze travelled up her arm and he caught the slight tremble which revealed itself in her upper arm even as her hand remained in midair. Despite the confidence with which she had introduced herself with, the refusal to acknowledge it from the Commander had put her on the back foot before she had had time to properly gather herself and she was beginning to doubt her abilities.
A surge of protectiveness prompted him to take a step towards her. Sensing his nearing proximity to her, Elissa wrenched her stare away from Argarth and widened her eyes at Alistair in silent protest. He understood the message she was communicating to him but found it difficult to believe that his presence near her was more destructive than forcing himself to be apart from her. Yet as he made to take another step closer, the faint tremble in her arm passed downwards and her hand began to waver properly for the first time.
It spoke to his better judgement and Alistair ground to a halt with only a few tantalising strides between them. He wanted to be there at her side. Protect her, shield her, defend her. Face down with her these Wardens who could only see titles even while they claimed to recognise none save their own. Yes, he had asked her to give her report to them but he had not intended that she do it without him.
As contradictory as he felt his behaviour was however, his compliance to her unspoken order restored a shadow of her old self and the shake in her hand stilled as Elissa looked back to Argarth. A deliberate clearing of her throat broke the silence and motivated the Warden-Commander to finally acknowledge the gesture.
"You may call me Argarth," he clasped her hand with a brief squeeze then released it. "I have heard many tales of your accomplishments, Warden."
"I imagine the reality will pale into comparison with the stories, Commander." Elissa allowed her arm to fall to her side as she straightened. Looking over Argarth's shoulder towards Korgik and Torih, she offered each a bow as a mark of respect towards their seniority.
Introductions were made with a smooth efficiency and the Warden-Commander glanced towards Alistair and Eamon who still stood in the doorway behind him. "You may leave us."
A streak of obstinate rebellion surfaced in him but with no word of protest from Elissa coupled with the fact that she was pointedly averting her gaze convinced him otherwise. Feeling the firm hand with which Eamon gripped at his shoulder, Alistair allowed himself to nod. He would have wished for a more controlled introduction between Elissa and the Orlesian Wardens but he had to trust that Eamon had good reason for permitting the Wardens access to her without prior warning.
As both men retreated from the room, Torih was quick to move to the door and shut it without further comment. Left alone in the hallway, Alistair turned to face Eamon.
"I guess you've spoken with the Commander?"
"I have only spoken with him briefly. He wished to speak with Elissa first." Whether it was the tiredness that was lining Eamon's face or being confronted with the undeniable evidence that Alistair had completely disregarded his recommendation that the younger man sleep apart from his betrothed, the disapproval with which he cast an eye over Alistair was marked. "But to find you like this only harms our argument."
Translating the misconceptions that he could tell Eamon had already begun to form in his head, Alistair tugged at his shirt in a distracted attempt to smooth the creases from it and prevent a blush from travelling across his cheeks. Maker, he hadn't even done anything that was worthy of blushing about. "I don't think the Wardens really care about where I sleep."
"Then you truly are a fool," the Arl snapped. "And if you cannot be trusted to control yourself then I will make other arrangements for her accommodation."
More accustomed to the rough edge of Isolde's tongue rather than Eamon's, Alistair could only blink at the man. Frayed anxiety over Elissa, defensive pride that he did not deserve this rebuke and reluctant but unshakeable filial obedience towards his foster parent all merged into one crushing weight against his chest so that he could only force out a weak echo. "Control myself?"
The repetition prompted a strangled noise from Eamon which Alistair was left to interpret as a mixture of disgust and rage. The Arl spun on his heel and began to stalk away from the younger man but left with little option except to follow, Alistair trailed after him. But his inability to see an alternative action only seemed to aggravate the man further.
"Maker help us, Alistair," Eamon spat over his shoulder and his face was contorted into an ugly sneer. "You are to be King. It would a welcome surprise if you would demonstrate some behaviour which actually proved it."
Maker knew he was easy-going but even he had a limit to the amount of humiliation he could tolerate especially when he was completely unprepared for the way in which the situation had escalated beyond his control. He had little idea why Eamon had turned on him so suddenly and a resentful bewilderment forced Alistair to a halt. Eamon made no effort to offer an apology and as Alistair stared after the retreating figure of the man, he was left in no doubt as to the level of respect he held in the eyes of at least one of his nobles.
"I would not tolerate such behaviour if I were you."
Alistair flinched at the sound of Zevran's voice from somewhere behind him and he felt the blush he had managed to suppress minutes earlier tear across his face at the realisation that he had been caught in disgrace. Maker, he was embarrassed about being in disgrace. The flush deepened into a burn with the knowledge that the only room Zevran was likely to have been in was Leliana's and that if the elf had been motivated to come to the door then it was likely that Leliana and probably even Liahn had over-heard the one-sided conversation.
"Just as well I'm not you then," Alistair snarled into the empty space in front of him, refusing to turn round. Feeling obligated to defend Eamon, he added, "he has my best interests at heart."
"I can see that."
Ignoring the habitual scepticism which seemed to surface in the elf's voice whenever Alistair was nearing the end of his patience, he focused on the more pressing matter. "What did you come to see me about last night."
"It would seem to be of little relevance now the Orlesians are speaking with Elissa."
"If it was so insignificant then what was the bloody point in waking me in the middle of the night?"
"It was not for me to decide that it was insignificant." There was a small pause. "And I did not expect that you would allow the Wardens access to her so readily."
With hindsight, Alistair should have debated whether the judgement he could hear so clearly in the elf's words was in any way influenced by the stagnating pool of resentment in his stomach. But he had neither energy nor inclination for debate and instead he simply reacted. Rounding on Zevran, he closed the distance between them in a matter of strides. "And what does that mean?"
To his credit, the elf maintained his cool exterior even as the larger man loomed over him. "I do not wish to fight, Alistair."
The lack of reaction forced some sense of perspective into his head and Alistair stumbled backwards to diminish the threatening posture he had adopted all too easily. All too aware that he had overstepped himself, Alistair paced in front of the elf for a few minutes while he attempted to work up the courage to admit to his mistake. Finding that none was forthcoming however, he let out a weary groan and simply turned to face Zevran.
He coupled an apologetic shrug with "I'm in trouble, amn't I?"
A small grin greeted the revelation before Zevran turned and closed the door behind him.
"It would seem so, Alistair. But what is life without it?" With a small gesture which communicated that Alistair should follow him, Zevran began to walk down the hallway. "Come. If the Arl does not wish your company then I can make use of it."
Faced with the reality that he had little option but to bow to the elf's wishes after his behaviour, Alistair contented himself with a grumbled mutter under his breath before heading after Zevran. "As if that doesn't sound ominous enough."
Left alone to perform the performance demanded of her, Elissa allowed her eyes to flicker over the three Wardens. It was a habit that had formed in partnership with her increasingly persuasive silver-tongue and she had often been able to glean small tidbits of information which had helped her to stay one step ahead of most.
The dwarven Warden-Commander. He stood where he had come to a halt in the middle of the room earlier and seemed at ease, looking between herself and his Wardens. The marking on his face suggested casteless but the self-assured manner in which he conducted himself revealed that he had long since made peace with the fact. But whether that peace had been found before or after his Joining, she couldn't tell.
The elf remained next to the door where he leant against the wall with arms crossed. His stepping to close the door hinted at his position as the extension of his Commander's right-hand and she was confident in her guess that this was his Second. There were no markings on his face but the confrontational glare he levelled at her whenever she caught his eye hinted towards an arrogant defiance that was not commonly found in the Alienages. Her understanding of Dalish customs was limited but she thought that the markings were gained as part of a coming of age ritual. This elf had none. If he was Dalish then he had been removed from his own clan before he had been given the opportunity to earn his markings. But surely that would have been too young for the Grey Wardens.
The second dwarf. He too was without markings which suggested some history of a caste. The deliberate way he set out his vellum and ink on the table spoke to his former life. A historian or scholar, she supposed. Another seemingly odd choice for the Wardens. Unlike the elf, he kept his focus on his materials and only glanced up to give a nod towards the Commander.
Argarth cleared his throat and Elissa braced herself for the three stares which now swung onto her.
"As I am sure you are aware, we have already spoken with Alistair."
Elissa debated whether questioning the wisdom of that decision was necessary or a step too far. Certainly, she would have expected that the Wardens would have made some effort to prevent corroboration between them. But to do so would have suggested a certainty of wrong-doing that it appeared they were yet to confirm in their own minds and for her to emphasise the point would only serve to imply a guilty conscience. It was an implication which would be founded in truth but let them discover it for themselves. She had no intention of laying the fact at their feet.
But then again, perhaps the observation was a test. A test of her and her own abilities. Which abilities, she had no idea and Argarth's closed expression offered no clue. Duncan had also kept the same passive look and she wondered whether it was a necessary requirement for promotion up the ranks. If it was then she already knew that Torih was destined to remain a Second until the day of his Calling.
No, it was too early to make the decision and so Elissa settled for a simple but clearly spoken, "Yes."
"But I would ask that you would also tell us your version of events."
"Of course. Where would you like me to begin?"
"You were recruited as a result of treachery against your family, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then begin with the events that occurred immediately prior to your recruitment."
Elissa moved towards the bed and sat down, pulling her legs up so that her arms wrapped around them and her chin rested on her knee. She raised an eyebrow at Argarth before glancing over at the chair in the corner.
The dwarf hesitated for a moment before accepting the silent offer and retreated to the chair, settling himself before giving Elissa another nod. "When you're ready, Warden."
Zevran had led him towards the main hall and it was only then that Alistair had thought it might be prudent to question the elf further. On hearing that Zevran intended to show him the various recovery efforts that were occurring around the city, Alistair had stopped and insisted that he change into something less creased and possibly more majestic. If Eamon wanted him to demonstrate behaviour more befitting a King in order to better advance their argument to the Wardens then preventing his people from seeing him as slovenly more often than necessary was probably a step in the right direction. The elf had made some choice comments as to his vanity but eventually relented and agreed to meet Alistair in an hour.
Now suitably dressed, at least as far as he was concerned although he had no doubt Leliana would have had some choice words for him, Alistair found Zevran lounging at one of the tables in the main hall with a handful of guards who all straightened to attention at the sight of him. Zevran on the other hand made no such effort.
"What's this?" Alistair motioned to the guards to stand at ease as he approached the elf.
"Clothes alone do not make a King. These are your personal guard."
"Oh." Alistair glanced back at the small group. "Are they aware the most dangerous thing in this room is you?"
A wide grin spread across Zevran's face. "Has anyone told you that you hold a grudge, my friend?"
"Only against those who have tried to kill me."
"A practical attitude." The elf rose to his feet with a laugh and straightened his leathers. "Come then. I do not expect that you will wish to be separated from Elissa once the Wardens have finished speaking with her."
Alistair fell into step with Zevran and the guards arranged themselves around the pair without further guidance. Doing his best to convince himself that it was similar to travelling with the ragtag band of companions Elissa had collected or, more distant still, the drills he had completed during his Templar training, Alistair suppressed the claustrophobic feeling that swarmed over him.
The group swept out the main doors, doors Alistair found he was no longer expected to open or close, and towards the main gates which led out into the marketplace. The courtyard was an efficient bustling of various people all attending to their chores. It seemed the best way to recover from the damage and devastation of a Horde was to deny it had ever existed and continue as close to normal as possible.
"Watch out!" A gruff yell echoed round the stone walls and all movement ceased as each person attempted to work out whether the instruction was intended for them.
Each of the guards reached for their swords but months of travelling together meant Zevran took his cue from Alistair. Unable to sense any darkspawn but with no indication of any other form of danger, Alistair glanced towards the elf with a bemused shrug.
"Bloody little blighter!" The bad-tempered voice resounded again as a small yet agile bundle of fur streaked across the courtyard from the direction of the stables.
Various snorts of amusement sounded from around Alistair as the guards stood down at the sight of the Mabari puppy making a bid for freedom. More amusing still was the sight of what Alistair assumed was one of the kennel apprentices huffing and puffing as he attempted to catch the little thing.
Zevran let out a sharp whistle. The little ears pricked up and the pup slowed while it attempted to work out where the enticing sound had come from. The elf whistled again which caused the pup to skid to a halt before charging in the direction of the small group.
"Sodding little runt! Hey! Come here!"
The boy attempted to head it off by diving towards it and catching it in his arms but the little dog was too fast and the boy could only manage to grasp at its tail. The pup yelped and tumbled to the ground causing a small dust cloud to envelop it. Screaming as though mortally wounded, it rolled around before coming to an undignified rest at Alistair's feet. Taking this interruption to its amateur dramatics as one insult too far, the pup chose to communicate its irritation by doing its best to savage the offending appendage.
"Oi," Alistair scooped it up in one hand and held it up so he could look it in the eye. "You ran into me."
A tempestuous growl suggested that the pup had other ideas.
"Oh Maker," the boy scrambled to his feet and his face was an ashen colour. "I... uh... I'm sorry, your Majesty..."
"No harm done. Who's this?"
The boy glowered at the pup still in Alistair's hand and the fury he felt towards the poor dog seemed to make him forget himself. "The bane of my life."
"I felt the same way about a dragon," Alistair grinned. "Your one is cuter."
Evidently resentful that its ferocity was being judged solely on its looks, the pup attempted to sink its little peg teeth into the fleshy part at the base of his thumb.
"Vicious little beast, aren't you?" he remarked with a small wince.
The pup eyed him with teeth still clamped round his hand. As means of establishing who was in fact in charge, Alistair gently turned the pup on its back while disengaging his thumb from its mouth. He tickled its belly but disliking the way in which its world was now upturned, the pup began to squirm.
"Stop it," the boy hissed at the dog as he shot a worried look towards Alistair.
The pup obediently stilled but made a point of filling its little chest with as much air as possible so that the sigh which escaped sounded especially world weary. Apparently the little creature had accepted that this escape attempt was an unmitigated failure.
"When did Eamon start keeping hounds in Denerim?"
"This isn't one of the Arl's."
"Oh. Why are you looking after her?" Alistair righted the little thing in his hand and scratched at her head. Her nose quivered as she scented at his hand having decided that resistance was evidently futile.
"We found her while helping to search for survivors," the boy shrugged. "She hasn't been branded and she's too young to have been imprinted. We thought it was better we took her then let her starve on the streets."
"She appears grateful for the deed," Zevran remarked drily.
"Little blighter," the boy repeated with a treacherous look towards the pup.
"Here," Alistair offered her back to the boy who accepted the wriggling bundle with no small amount of reluctance. Cradling her against his chest, he bowed to the man before running back towards the stables.
"It seems you share Elissa's talent for collecting lost souls," Zevran commented as the group continued towards the gates.
Alistair managed to bite back the flippant comment which danced tantalisingly on the end of his tongue regarding the usefulness of a Mabari puppy. Neither he nor Zevran had broached the subject of the elf's return to Denerim from the hills yet there was little doubt that the Mabari had been diligent in the ultimate defence of his mistress's friends.
"It wouldn't be right to take on another Mabari."
Zevran seemed surprised by the statement and his forehead wrinkled into a frown. "Any ally should be welcome, no?"
"Not at the cost of replacing another."
The frowned deepened as Zevran worked out the argument that had prompted the initial refusal. "By that logic, do you intend to never travel with another healer?"
"That's different. Travelling with another healer isn't the same as replacing Wynne." Referring to the mage triggered a long overdue stab of regret and Alistair glanced back at Zevran as they passed out of the estate and into the marketplace. "Where is she?"
Zevran waved a hand to the crowd which had already begun to collect in the centre of the market at the news of his appearance. "I will show you once you have met with your adoring public."
An odd sensation; hearing the words trip from her tongue which detailed a story she felt entirely disconnected from. She knew the events had happened. She understood that she had been at the forefront of it all. But living in the present had left little time to dwell on the past and recounting what had happened once it had been and gone was a strange feeling.
It was unfortunate too that in another time and another place she believed that she would have enjoyed being in the company of the Commander. From the occasional question and interruption, she saw someone who was practical and straight-forward with little patience for the small snippets of guile and charm she had tested him with. Responding to the small revelations towards his personal preferences, Elissa had foregone the posturing and fronting that she would have believed was expected from a Hero and instead remained on the bed although she now sat cross-legged rather than with her legs drawn up against her chest. Her restless fingers had picked at the blanket and eventually succeeded in pulling a thread from it which she curled and uncurled round her finger while she spoke.
"And you fled because..." Argarth prompted with a hint of annoyance.
Elissa started and her head jerked up in confusion. Swallowing, she found her throat dry and realised that she had fallen silent mid-sentence and her finger was an odd greyish purple from the lack of circulation caused by the thread which cut into her flesh. Flaming Andraste, when had she pulled it so tight?
Unwinding the thread, she kept her focus on her finger as the flesh began to return to a more natural colour. After clearing her throat once or twice, she was able to admit, "I didn't want to die."
"An honest answer, if not an inspiring one," the dwarf remarked with a grunt.
"There is not much else I can tell you." Having freed her finger from the thread, Elissa moved her hand up towards her shoulder and gingerly pressed against the area through the thin material of her shirt. There was no scar to mark the skin but there was a slight numbness to the area that was uncomfortable although not especially painful. "I woke up in the Chantry a few days later."
"As a result of the healing from your Circle mage?"
"Yes."
The Commander leant forward in his chair and took a succession of breaths as though searching for a way to ask his question without providing a hint towards the answer. "Tell us of your injuries, Warden."
"An arrow wound with the poison tip embedded in my shoulder." She had worked out as much before she had fallen unconscious in the hills.
"A superficial wound. From what you have told us, it seems you have endured worse."
Elissa shrugged. "I always had access to an experienced and talented healer."
"So the wound was allowed to fester beyond the healing skill of your rogues," Argarth mused before nodding as sign that he accepted that much of her explanation. "Still, this raises further questions. How was it that your mage was capable of healing a wound so infected with a tainted poison?"
The thread snapped between her fingers. "She gave everything she had."
"A noble sentiment but not one which satisfies the need for an explanation."
Elissa studied the frayed ends of the thread. Her gaze followed the strand to where it was still woven into the blanket and she scrapped at it with her nail in order to free some more of its length.
"Warden."
"I think she used her Spirit."
"A philosophical answer..."
"No," Elissa interrupted the dwarf as she heard the impatience colouring his words and looked up to meet his gaze. "I'm telling the truth. Wynne had a permanent connection to a benevolent spirit in the Fade. I think she channelled its power to remove the tainted poison."
"She flooded your body with healing sustained by a Fade spirit?" It was the first time that the elven Second had spoken and Argarth shot him a look which communicated even to an outsider such as Elissa that his input was unwelcome.
She let her focus fall back onto the thread and left the two Wardens to continue their silent conversation. It was the first time she had felt that the Wardens were surprised by anything she had said. It made some sense. Alistair would have focused on the events he had witnessed rather than relay second-hand information he had gleaned from the others.
Twirling the strand between her thumb and forefinger, she watched as the thread began to curl of its own accord. Perhaps she could make use of this momentary division between them without jeopardising too much of the truth.
"Yes, I believe so," she kept her tone even as she responded to Torih's question without looking up.
There were another few moments of silence and she could imagine another silent exchange between the two. She waited until she heard the clink of buckles on the elf's armour. Glancing up, she saw that he had pushed himself off from the wall and moved closer towards her.
That made some sense too. An elf would have a greater understanding of the peculiarities of the Fade and spirits than either of the dwarves. Elissa kept twiddling with the thread but she found she no longer needed so much of a distraction. There was something to this line of questioning which was important. Something she could possibly exploit.
"Tell us what you know of this Spirit and its connection with your mage, Warden."