Her bare toes curled around the edge of the wooden chair while her legs were drawn up against her chest. Resting her chin on top of her knees, she welcomed the comforting darkness that came with closed eyes. It was taking a pleasant amount of concentration to remain perched on the chair and while the thought of unfolding herself to move to the bed only a tantalising number of strides away was appealing, Elissa did not wish to give herself any further opportunity for thought.
Alistair was somewhere in the room; near the window she supposed. An occasional deep breath followed by a long exhale punctuated the regular sound of his breathing. Aside from his single question as to whether she had told Liahn outright about Wynne and her one-word response, neither of them seemed to have the energy to break the silence which now surrounded them. Though in fairness to him, she did not know what he could say to convince her that her fears about the Fade were unfounded.
Some time in between her splutters, snivels and sobs, he had stood and stretched the cramping aches from his body with a muffled groan. But then he had turned from her and begun to pad about the room while she continued with her explanation.
Shortly after that she had closed her eyes and allowed her voice to finally trail off as her explanation came to an end.
The draft from the still-open window meant that a numbness was beginning to settle in her toes and the growing discomfort threatened to upset her balance. She was forced to readjust her position and the squeak of her feet straining against the chair's smooth wooden grain filled the room.
There was a heartbeat of a pause and then a heavy sigh followed the small noise. A rustle of fabric betrayed that Alistair had moved but there was no accompanying soft scuff of footfalls. He must only have straightened, perhaps looked in her direction.
"You're angry at me." Her self-imposed darkness made the statement easier to voice.
She imagined that the words dripped from her lips, flowed over her knees and puddled at the base of the chair into yet another mess that would need to be cleaned.
A stillness indicated that she had caught him by surprise before one, two, three dull scrapes of his boots revealed that he had adjusted his position. Not nearer her, but she fancied that he was likely facing her now.
"No, love. Not really."
The clearness of his voice proved her supposition right but the satisfaction was short-lived. The term of endearment was negated by his partial denial. A resigned anger but not necessarily directed wholly towards her. Still, it was enough to jar.
Her arms which loosely looped around her legs now dropped downwards to her feet and her fingers unfurled in order to curl around her toes and encourage some warmth back into them. The movement meant that her centre of balance shifted yet again and distracted as she was by his response, her eyelids sprang open in reflex.
The surge of light caused her to flinch and one of her arms rose to block some of the intensity. Her legs struggled to counterbalance the movement and as she pushed against the edge of the seat, her feet slid off and slapped hard against the floor. The sting against her bare flesh accompanied by the uncomfortable jolt which travelled the length of her body forced a pained yelp from her.
Startled by the clatter behind him, Alistair spun on the spot. The sudden flurry of movement from the periphery of her vision caught her attention and she spared a brief glance for him. He had been closer to the far side of the bed than the window. He had never moved that far from her.
The varied discomforts now inflicted on her body reclaimed her attention and Elissa leant forward in her seat in an attempt rub the stinging sensation radiating from her soles. Her skin was an odd mottled colour and seeing the grey-blue of her flesh prompted her to acknowledge just how cold she had allowed her feet to become.
In only a matter of strides, Alistair was crouched beside her. He blew on his hands a few times before wrapping them around one foot and then the other while he coaxed some life back into her extremities. She made no protest and only leant back, wriggling her toes in a half-hearted attempt to assist his efforts.
He chuckled softly. "Did you play that as a child?"
"What?"
He pinched her big toe between his thumb and forefinger. "This little piggy."
It was an obscure reference to a long-forgotten childhood game but even so, she stiffened.
"I'll take that as a yes," Alistair raised his head to look at her.
She met his gaze with a cold stare but it only seemed to encourage him and the beginnings of a roguish grin accompanied the already present glint in his eye. Her whole body tensed in dread and she wondered if he realised just how difficult it was to control the urge to rip her foot from his grasp.
"Don't... you... dare," she breathed.
His hands continued to massage her feet even as the grin widened. "You know what they say, love."
"Alis..."
"Don't dare an idiot," he interrupted.
Before she could react, one hand clamped around her ankle while his other hand trailed a finger up the sensitive skin of her in-step.
She shrieked; an ear-piercing sound resonated around the walls and both flinched as the sound reverberated in their heads. She had no doubt that she had acted with more decorum when that genlock had practically run her through during their travels through the Deep Roads.
Her hands gripped at the edge of the chair while she attempted to discern whether kicking him in the face was in any way justified, even if she could disguise it as wrestling free from him. But rationality won out and she settled for the less violent, though less satisfying, compromise of simply hauling her foot out of his hold.
Alistair allowed her to slip free but was quick to find his feet in order to remove himself from any form of retaliation. She glared up at him, still gripping the seat with her feet pressed flat against the floor to prevent him from trying that particular trick again.
A snigger escaped into the room and the shake of his shoulders indicated that he was suppressing the urge to laugh outright. She pushed herself up from the chair though watching him back away with hands held up in mock surrender, mollified her, at least in part. It was a pity that his splutters of laugher hampered the truly contrite look he was aiming for.
Taking a threatening step in his direction, she narrowed her eyes further. "I don't think you're really sorry."
"Me neither," he grinned but continued to maintain his safe distance from her.
Faced with such blatant disregard for true repentance, Elissa could only snort. She shook her head in his direction before moving towards the bed and knelt down, fumbling underneath it for the borrowed boots that had been kicked underneath during the events of the day. Her fingers grazed against leather and she hauled both out. Unfolding her legs from beneath her, she remained on the floor while she pulled the boots onto her feet. A sigh of relief escaped from her as the footwear provided an instant protection against the chill.
Alistair shuffled across the room towards her and held out his hand to her.
Tilting her head so that she could catch his eye, she shot him a small glare just in case he thought he was entirely forgiven. "Decided to be a gentleman now?"
"Decided to be more ladylike?"
The retort took her aback for a moment before a small laugh bubbled up. Releasing some of the tension that was supporting her posture, she slumped back against the bed frame with her legs stretched out across the flagstones. She patted the stone slab beside her in invitation.
He dropped down next to her, mirroring her position. "Still think you're trapped in the Fade?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Isn't the point of the Fade that it's some tempting paradise of all your wishes?" His foot knocked against hers as he made his point. "Why would you still be ticklish?"
The logic was there but the lack of inspiration floored her. She was unsure whether his teasing offended her or if it was his insinuation that she had so little imagination that a simple change in her reality might seduce her.
"Also," he continued, "if you were trapped in the Fade then don't you think we might have a better response to convince you otherwise? One that didn't rely on tickling you."
"I don't know."
"Flaming Andraste, Elissa." The movement of his foot stopped and he twisted where he sat so that he could look at her straight on. The frustration he had done well to hold onto finally broke through and a weariness crept across his face, banishing all traces of amusement at teasing her. "Do you know what's more disturbing? That you can only be happy when you're miserable. Look at yourself, love." His forehead furrowed in a crinkled frown that was already beginning to look far too familiar on his face. "Why would you wish for any of this to happen to you?"
Biting at her lip, she tried to search out a suitable answer for him. It was more difficult than it should have been. She had never considered herself to be one who thrived on misery, self-inflicted or otherwise. And she had no wish to become one who flourished on the misery of others. Yet seeing the way Alistair was studying her at that moment, it was painfully apparent that her misery was contagious to those closest to her. It seemed true that misery did indeed love company.
Alistair glanced away from her with a small shake of his head as he took her silence to be her response. He clambered back onto his feet and began dusting down his breeches. "I guess there is nothing else to say."
"No, wait..." she gabbled.
He did what she asked and waited. Sensing that she had grasped at a last chance, Elissa scrabbled at the shadowy recesses of her mind in a desperate attempt to find words, any words, which might communicate just how confused, frightened and desperate to be reassured she was.
But whatever answer she was unable to vocalise must somehow have found its way across her face because, he hesitantly held out his hand to her once more. This time though it hovered just beyond her reach and was accompanied by a strained silence. Despite this, she was ready to convince herself that there was hope.
His brief hesitation prompted her to lunge forward and deny that she had ever faltered. Grabbing his hand, she felt his fingers wrap around her wrist and he pulled her up onto her feet.
"Come on." He began walking backwards as he drew her towards the door. "I told Sten and Oghren to come and see you this evening, but I'm sure an hour or so earlier won't do any harm."
"I don't..."
The thought of having to confront the absence of companions by meeting those who remained was not a welcome one but as his crinkled frown reappeared, she bit back the remainder of the protest. His reaction revealed that he needed the reassurance and security of being surrounded by friends as much as anything else. He was struggling too, but they both knew that she was not strong enough to help him bear the burden. So she would do what she could to support him and if meeting with Oghren and Sten offered him a small period of respite then she would do it.
Elissa squeezed his hand. "Careful how much you frown at me, love. Maker knows what you'll look like in ten years."
The frown deepened into a glare before his whole expression lightened and a lopsided grin surfaced. "You'll still love me though, won't you?"
Chewing at the corner of her lip, she tilted her head and made a deliberate show of studying each and every one of his facial features. "Touch and go. We'll have to see how you look."
"Have to see?" he echoed, indignant outrage colouring his tone.
She swallowed a giggle and attempted to straighten her expression into one of sage contemplation.
Alistair narrowed his eyes at the performance. "Look you, we both know that I make being tainted look good."
"Now, maybe," she found the audacity to give a troubled sigh and then threw in an apologetic shrug for good measure. "But in ten years?"
"Now and in ten years."
"Well if that's the case then, do you promise to still love me when I'm all tainted and mad?"
"Oh love..." His expression smoothed out into the wide-eyed innocence of a young Chantry boy and he cradled her against him, slipping his hand around her waist. He hooked a finger beneath her chin and titled her head up as a soft smile graced his face. "... how will I know the difference?"
She jerked her chin from his touch and let her head fall against his shoulder accompanied by a loud groan. Speaking into his shoulder she complained, "it's shocking that you're still able to summon such a look, you know."
A throaty chuckle greeted the muffled remark and he dropped his hand from her waist, chasing away the last of his pretence. "You're the one that corrupted me."
"Exactly," she stepped back in order to catch his eye. "I know just how wicked you really are."
Ushering her out into the hall, he snorted. "Uh huh. Tell me, my virtuous lady, how do you know what is and isn't wicked?"
Elissa fluttered her eyelashes at him in her own attempt to summon an inner purity that had become increasingly misplaced over the months. "I have no idea myself, of course."
"Of course," he agreed with a solemn nod. His hand rested against her back as he guided her along the corridor towards Leliana's room.
"But you hear such shocking things in taverns."
"And what would my honourable lady be doing in a tavern?"
"Saving the worthy gentlemen from drowning in his own pool of vomit."
"Ah." There was an odd mixture of pride and embarrassment in the laugh which followed. "I'd forgotten about that."
She flashed him a smile and offered up a truce. "You won us back our weapons after that card game. I figure we're even."
Knocking against the door, he glanced down at her with a grin. "Glad to hear it."
A muffled summons greeted the knock and Alistair pushed open the door before gesturing that Elissa should go ahead of him. Scooting in front of him, she was greeted with a smile from Leliana. The Bard remained in the bed but Zevran was lounging on a chair which had been pulled up next to the bedside. His feet were pushing against the edge of the bedside table as he swung back on the legs of the chair and Elissa had to admire both the strength and dexterity involved in making the position look effortless. The elf threw a glance over his shoulder on seeing Leliana's reaction and his own face broke into a welcoming smile at the sight of the couple.
"Warden."
The sound of Liahn's cool greeting dragged her attention to the table positioned against the far wall. The mage was also seated, facing towards the bed though her body was twisted so that she could hunch closer over the table. With Zevran positioned with his back to the room, Elissa had assumed that the Bard and elf were alone.
"Liahn," she swallowed, caught off-guard.
"I hope you are feeling calmer."
"Yes, yes thank you," she murmured, shuffling further into the room as Alistair shut the door behind them.
Liahn got to her feet, smoothing her robes out and picking at an invisible piece of lint. "I am glad to hear it."
While Elissa doubted that the mage would wish harm against her, she had trouble believing that Liahn was sincere. Whatever else had happened since Liahn had returned to the room, it was clear that battle lines had been drawn and it did not take much to realise what had prompted the reaction. The answers which Liahn had failed to pry from Elissa, she had unsuccessfully tried to glean from Leliana and Zevran.
Sensing that Elissa did not intend to engage her in further conversation, the mage focused her attention towards Alistair. He had turned from the door and was surveying the behaviour of his friends with a faint frown.
"Zevran has informed me that you wish Leliana to join you this evening," Liahn interrupted his thoughts, her hand dropping tot eh side as she removed the offending piece of fluff.
He blinked then glanced towards Leliana. "Yes. That is, if she wants to."
"Very much so, dear heart," the Bard nodded in earnest.
Liahn cleared her throat. "I would wish that appropriate assistance is provided for her."
"What do you recommend?"
"She must not be allowed to move of her own accord. It will hinder any further healing of her mobility."
Alistair nodded. "We'll make sure she doesn't."
"Very well." Liahn began to gather up her various poultices and salves from her table as she continued to talk. "I do not expect that she will require my services for the remainder of the evening but I will be in the Chantry if you have need of me." She paused and looked to Alistair and Elissa, allowing her gaze to linger on them. "Unless there is something you wish to speak about with me now?"
"Is there anything that we have to discuss, Liahn?"
Alistair succeeded in asking the question in a tone of such genial bewilderment that Elissa had to fight the overwhelming urge to risk an admiring glance in his direction. He was no liar but she had known for some time that he was more than capable of playing the fool. Still, that particular response had to be one of his finer moments.
"Apparently not," the mage pursed her lips.
"Then we'll see you tomorrow, yes?"
Liahn bowed in acknowledgement before gathering up her small bag of supplies. Elissa remained focused on the flagstone at her feet so that all she saw was the mage's boots as she crossed in front of them on her way out the door. It was only after the dull thud of the closing door and the stomping footsteps faded away that she allowed herself to raise her head again. As if in sync with her thoughts, Alistair let out the breath he had been holding.
Elissa threw him a smile. "You did well, love."
"For now anyway." His hand ran through his hair before he focused on Leliana and Zevran. "What happened?"
The Bard exchanged a look with Zevran and there was a clunk as the elf lowered the chair back onto all four legs. Leliana shook her head as she turned back to Alistair.
"She tried to question us about Wynne and became agitated when we claimed not to know what she referred to."
Zevran found his feet and moved to stand by the foot of the bed. Offering his own assessment, he suggested, "she is certain of what she knows but without confirmation there is little she can do."
Alistair groaned and his hand hovered at the back of his head while he scrunched his eyes shut. "Maker, a mage uprising is not what I need."
Elissa winced. "She doesn't have any tangible proof."
"This is true," Zevran agreed, leaning his shoulder against one of the bottom bedposts. "Denial is not the solution but it will likely deter her for a short time."
"Maybe," Alistair muttered but seemed lost in his thoughts. After a few moments he shook himself and focused on the others. "But she won't need proof so long as she can garner enough support among the other mages."
Ever optimistic, Leliana attempted to find the single tentative ray of hope. "If."
A small shake his head became quickly more pronounced as Alistair convinced himself of his own argument. "When."
There was a finality to his tone which spoke to his reluctant acknowledgement of inevitability. The sound pricked at Elissa's conscience and she swallowed in an attempt to dislodge the guilt clogging her throat.
So succinctly robbed of her alternative outlook, Leliana looked troubled. "Then we cannot sit by and do nothing. The Knight-Commander should be alerted."
Alistair grunted, arms folding across his chest as he leant back against the wall. "If I do that then Ferelden will have only Tranquils in its Circle."
"It is preferable to bloodshed, is it not?" A frown was brewing on the Bard's face as she struggled to make sense of the reluctance to take what were surely necessary precautions. "Wynne understood the importance of the Circle."
"Wynne's views are not necessarily held by others." The words came unbidden and it was only with the prickling sensation of three stares that Elissa realised that she had spoken. Flinching at her indiscretion, she ducked her head and stared at the floor again. "That's what Liahn said. About using magic. Not the Circle."
"Tomorrow," Alistair sighed. "We'll deal with this tomorrow."
Leliana made to protest but he cut her off.
"Leliana, please, not tonight. Just for one Maker-forsaken night, can we pretend that there's no darkspawn or politics or bloody rebellions? Tomorrow I promise we'll talk about this. All of us will talk about this. But not tonight. Please, Leliana."
The tense silence which followed prompted Elissa to glance up. The intensity with which Leliana fixed her stare on Alistair gave a clear indication of what the Bard thought to the suggestion of the postponement. True, there was much to be discussed but Alistair was right; there was little which could be achieved in the next few hours. And whatever needed to be done would require careful planning and foresight, something which none of them had the capacity for at the moment.
Zevran was evidently of the same opinion. He straightened and his head swung from studying Alistair and Elissa to focus on the woman lying in the bed. "Come now, Leliana. Such a discussion requires fresh minds."
Leliana transferred her stare from Alistair to the elf and for the longest moment, Elissa feared that she would refuse. But then Leliana blinked and a heavy sigh expressed her discontented compliance. She looked away from Zevran and eyed Alistair with suspicion.
"I assume you intend to carry me downstairs. Do you promise not to drop me?"
The tension ebbed from Alistair and he grinned at her, pushing himself off the wall. "Well, not deliberately anyway."
Zevran snorted. He approached Elissa, dodging around Alistair as the man moved to the bedside, and bowed low before graciously offering his arm to her. A smile blossomed on her face at his theatrics and with a reciprocal extravagant bow, she accepted and they tactfully left Alistair and Leliana to work out their logistics in peace.
Wandering down the hallway at an amble, Elissa gave his arm a small squeeze. "I'm sorry I was rude earlier, Zev."
"I have suffered worse, my friend," he laughed then patted her arm. "Leliana has explained that you believe you are trapped in the Fade. Is this still the case?"
Elissa hesitated but then shook her head. "No."
"Perhaps this is just as well." There was a mischievousness to the elf's tone. "After all, if this truly is the Fade then we must ask ourselves what deep and dark desire does my presence represent?"
"I don't think it works that way, Zev."
"But perhaps it is worth considering nevertheless, my friend. Now let us think. When we first met, it was your feminine wiles which entrapped me."
"Are there many feminine wiles at the business end of a blade?"
"Truly, it depends on the creature who wields the blade," he smirked. "But concentrate, Elissa. When we first met, seduced as I was by your bewitching looks, how far along in your relationship with our dear Alistair were you?"
"We were just friends."
"Excellent. We can at least be certain that if this is the Fade then I am not a manifestation of unfilled sexual desire."
Elissa spluttered in spite of herself. The sound prompted Zevran to cast a sly sideways glance at her and she prayed that the blush creeping across her cheeks would cool.
The elf chuckled, enjoying the discomfort of his companion. "Though we have yet to explain why my presence is required. Perhaps there is some unresolved desire you have yet to experience? Something I can help with?"
The sound of footfalls behind them caused the blush to advance further over her face. She was well-aware that the elf was angling for a reaction and now he had an audience.
"Zev, shut up," she hissed.
"Of course realising the desire would mean that my presence may no longer be required," he ignored her protestation and raised his voice so that Alistair and Leliana behind them could hear every damned word he said. "Perhaps I will have to trust that your needs will be addressed in time. However, let it not be said that I am unwilling to face my fate. Elissa, my services are at your command should you wish."
A suppressed laugh from behind hinted at Leliana's enjoyment of the situation and Elissa had no problem imagining her friend as the sensuous Bard rather than the chaste Chantry Sister.
Whether it was what Zevran had said or the reaction it had provoked in Leliana, Alistair began muttering darkly under his breath. Lengthening his stride so that he fell into step with Elissa, he shot her a dirty look over Leliana's head.
"Now are you satisfied this isn't the Fade?"
Even before Zevran tightened his grip on her arm, she knew. She knew the elf would not let the poor choice of words go unremarked upon. Elissa swivelled her head round to face Zevran and the expression of unbridled glee almost made her laugh. Almost.
"Yes, Warden, are you satisfied?"
There was a strangled curse from behind her and before she could offer the elf a response, Alistair strode away and left them in his wake as he led the way down the corridor and towards the staircase. A mixture of giggling and reassurances floated over his shoulder as Leliana attempted to placate him.
Elissa turned a resentful glare on the elf. "That was cruel."
"Perhaps," he grinned, unperturbed by her rebuke, "but it was not intended so." The grin widened and the elf jerked his head in the direction of the now vanished Alistair. "Though I do feel obligated to warn you that his ego will be feeling bruised."
"Well that was your doing, not mine."
"Yes but I do not believe he would welcome my attempts at repairing it," Zevran laughed.
She groaned, her cheeks capable of warming any frozen lamppost in sodding winter. Perhaps that was the answer she should have given to the question regarding how far their relationship had developed. She was certain that little discussion would have been enough to throw even Zevran, non-sequitur as it had been.
Evidently content with the fun he had gained at her expense, Zevran picked up his pace. "Come, Elissa. I need to fetch Sten and Oghren once I have escorted you downstairs."
She obliged without protest. Descending the stairs to the ground floor, they found themselves in the midst of a flurry of activity. Servants darted around the pair while the unmistakeable sound of Isolde's voice drifted from one of the small rooms further towards the main hall.
Elissa slowed her pace as she fought the urge to turn tail but Zevran anticipated her reaction and planted his hand against the small of her back, nudging her forward.
"Traitor," she muttered.
The elf chuckled but made no retort, instead preferring to push her towards the open doorway. His actions were well-intentioned but it only served to ignite her stubborn streak. She began to tense but, demonstrating a flawless knowledge of his fearless leader, Zevran countered her reaction by giving her a final shove through the door.
Elissa staggered and it was all she could do to stop herself from careering into the back of Isolde who was standing just inside the room. Months of surviving on nerves meant her reflexes were honed enough to prevent her from actually knocking into the Arlessa but the identical expressions of wide-eyed horror which materialised on the faces of Leliana and Alistair betrayed what had almost happened. Seeing their faces, Isolde stopped mid-sentence and spun on the spot, ready to rebuke the clumsy servant.
An awkward pause witnessed both women struggling to claim a degree of composure. Fortunately months of surviving on nerves was nothing compared to the years Eleanor Cousland had spent cultivating etiquette in her young daughter.
"Arlessa," Elissa took a discrete step backwards so she could bow.
Isolde reciprocated with a small curtsy. "Hero."
"I am grateful for the hospitality shown to me while I have been recovering from the battle."
The woman's mouth twisted itself into a thin smile. "It is our honour, Hero."
Elissa bobbed her head, her attention flicking round the room. Alistair stood in front of the fireplace while Leliana sat on a bench on the far side of a long wooden table. With an eye to seeking refuge next to the Bard, Elissa sidled around Isolde. "I apologise for my interruption. Please, continue."
"Arlessa," Alistair redirected the woman's attention back to matters at hand, "there's no rush. Just have things brought in when they're ready."
Isolde dipped another curtsy. Having secured her seat beside Leliana, it did not escape Elissa's attention that the deliberate execution of the gesture was in sharp contrast to the perfunctory one the woman had offered her.
"I can only apologise. It was short-sightedness on my part. I did not anticipate that you would be earlier than you stated."
"Exactly," Alistair nodded earnestly; keen to draw the conversation to a close. "It's my fault. Really, it's not a problem."
"Thank you for your understanding," she bobbed again. "I will see that this is dealt with immediately."
"That's fine."
Aware that she was being dismissed, Isolde threw a half-hearted nod of acknowledgement towards the women before taking her leave.
Alistair rolled his eyes as he turned to face Elissa and Leliana. "No one usually pays attention to what I say."
Leliana smiled, her arms resting against the edge of the table as she supported herself. "You are King, dear heart. We are awaiting every word with bated breath."
He grunted before fixing a good-natured glare on his betrothed. "And was that entrance really necessary?"
"Zev pushed me," Elissa pouted.
"Of course he did," Alistair sighed, rubbing at his eyes with both hands. "Well hopefully we might have something to eat and drink before he returns with Sten and Oghren."
"In the meantime, you can do something about that," Leliana nodded towards the unlit fireplace behind him.
Alistair twisted round to see what she was referring to before turning back. "I'm not lighting the fire."
"Oh, so now lighting a fire is beneath His Majesty?" Leliana began shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"That's not what..."
"Clearly he expects either you or I to see to such things, dear one," she caught Elissa's eye, ignoring the attempt to interrupt her.
"No, I was..."
"Do you not think such a thing is shameful?"
An exasperated curse escaped from Alistair. "How do you propose I light a fire without kindling?"
"Stop teasing him," Elissa gently scolded her friend, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Leliana giggled and shrugged. "It is too easy, dear one."
Their good-natured bickering was interrupted by the arrival of one of the housemaids who was thankfully burdened with the implements required for starting said fire. Her presence prevented any opportunity for the lingering issues that prodded at the edge of the conversation to become fully realised and the trio settled into a companionable discussion of events which mercifully did not veer anywhere near Orlesian Grey Wardens, politics or the Fade.
A barrel of ale was rolled in by two guardsmen a short time later. Both were breathing heavily at the hasty exertion, no doubt insisted on by Isolde, and Elissa offered them the opportunity to sample some of the ale as reward for their trouble. Yet despite the lingering looks both gave towards the barrel, they mumbled their declinations with a shake of their heads. The distraction of servants entering with plates filled with a selection of food prevented either Elissa or Alistair tempting the guardsmen further and the two men slipped away from the room. By the time the loud bellow of Oghren's voice and Sten's heavy tread echoing in the hall announced the arrival of their companions, the room was warm, welcoming and full of hospitality.
But confronted with the reality of having to meet the last of her abandoned companions, Elissa experienced a small surge of unbridled panic. Before she could act on it however, Oghren had already thrown open the door and as he sauntered into the room, the dwarf was already trading insults with Alistair who remained in front of the now roaring fire.
Sten, on the other hand, paid little to any of the companions and instead placed a large cloth-wrapped bundle on the table in front of Elissa and Leliana. He busied himself untying it and folding back the various layers while Oghren availed himself of the ale barrel and Zevran claimed a space on the seat opposite Leliana.
Passing behind Elissa, Oghren slapped her heartily on the shoulder before thumping down on the other side of the Bard.
"Gave us a sodding scare, eh girl?" He took a gulp of his ale before waving the cup in Elissa's general direction. "We expected as much from that one but not you."
Leliana smiled. "I could not allow you to have all the fun."
Before Oghren could retort, the Qunari looked up from the bundle and fixed a disapproving look on Alistair. The simple action commanded the attention of everyone even before he spoke.
"These are what matter," he stabbed a finger at the objects. "Not graves."
Silence fell over the room as both Elissa and Leliana sat up straighter in order to catch a glimpse of the objects while Alistair surrendered his position in front of the fire and approached Sten's side. Nestled in the cloth were two short swords and a staff.
"How did you find these?" Alistair leant forward and picked up one of the blades, inspecting it closely with an air of disbelief.
"It does not matter. It only matters that I have."
Oghren grunted, swilling the remnants of his ale in his cup before swigging it down. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before revealing, "he'd found the staff before Elissa even woke up. Took a bit longer with the swords."
Elissa tore her gaze away from the staff and let it settle on the Qunari. She had no idea how he had found the swords. He must have examined each and every blade he had come across. Yet she did not doubt that the blades were Riordan's. It was too important to Sten to believe that he would make a mistake. And that he had thought to save Wynne's staff, saarebas as she was to him, was in itself enough to chase away the last of her reservations in addressing him.
"Thank you, Sten," she murmured.
He only nodded and took his seat at her side. Zevran pushed a cup of ale towards the Qunari without comment while Alistair replaced the blade next to its partner. He moved towards the opposite end of the table and settled down beside the elf.
For a long while, the six sat in a reflective silence which had been heralded by Sten's revelation. Eventually though, bit by bit, the conversation began to pick up as recollections of Wynne, Shale and even Riordan proved uppermost in everyone's mind. There were also mentions of Morrigan though furtive glances towards Elissa and Alistair soon revealed that the Witch was not a subject either of them wished to be drawn on. Eventually reverential memories gave way to entertaining anecdotes and the conversation began to flow once more.
"Warden." The low rumble of Sten's voice cut through the banter at the table. Elissa turned to face the Qunari.
"We'll make sure that these," her hand crept across the table and towards the weapons, "are looked after, Sten."
"I am glad." His gruff manner revealed that she had misinterpreted his intentions. "But I wish to discuss the oath I took."
"The oath?" The intonation of her voice rose as she caught the meaning. "Oh, from Lothering?"
"Yes. I have fulfilled it."
Elissa was quiet for a moment. "You're asking permission to leave, aren't you?"
"Yes."
She wanted to reassure him that he was welcome to stay with them. But already knowing that he would refuse, she wanted to ensure that he had somewhere to go. Yet even such a simple question as that would be unlikely to elicit a straightforward response. So she found that all that was left to do was nod. "Of course, Sten."
He gave a brisk nod and turned his attention to his ale. It was clear that Sten believed the conversation to be at an end. There was to be no accusation or judgement of either her or her actions. Relief and gratitude should have been uppermost in her thoughts but instead curiosity became the irritating itch in her head.
Despite knowing that the question would likely prompt some tautological argument, she asked, "you know I left, don't you?"
"Yes."
"So why does our agreement still matter? Surely I've proved myself unworthy of it?"
His head swivelled towards her and she was greeted with his habitual passive expression. "I am worthy of it."
"Of course. I just... I didn't..."
"You are a woman. Women cannot be warriors." The Qunari turned away from her once more and took another swig of his ale.
Studying his profile, Elissa found herself almost at a loss for words. "You're not surprised that I left."
"No."
The sentiment was not one that she wished to encourage but the unique manner in which Sten had succeeded in reconciling her actions was one that she was unable to counter. With little desire to have the remainder of her flaws raked over with such unwavering conviction, Elissa raised her own cup of ale towards the Qunari. "It's been a privilege, Sten."
With the majority of the food having been eaten, the ale barrel fully drained and the conversation dwindling, Leliana signalled to Alistair that she was ready to return to her room. Sensing that his social obligation had reached its natural conclusion, Sten also indicated that he wished to leave and with an unusual demonstration of tact, Oghren too decided that he was prepared to call it a night despite not having spoken privately with Elissa. He promised that he would call on her in the morning before nudging the elf with his elbow as means of questioning whether Zevran intended to accompany them back to their lodgings. Zevran hesitated as he ascertained whether Elissa required a calming presence at her side while Alistair was preoccupied with Leliana but she waved him away with a grateful smile. She would be content to trail behind the pair.
Tiredness prevented much conversation between the trio as they headed back through the estate and aside from the odd murmured exchange between Alistair and Leliana, the return to the bedrooms was mostly in silence. Hovering at the door, Elissa waited while Alistair settled Leliana back on her bed. It took a few attempts but eventually Leliana convinced both of them that they did not need to summon any of the healers and that a servant often checked on her during the night. Bidding the Bard goodnight, they retreated back out into the hall but Elissa was surprised to find that Alistair dawdled the remaining distance between Leliana's room and theirs.
When she reached the door, she rested her hand on the latch. "What's wrong, love?"
He made a face, his hand creeping up to rub at the back of his neck. "Eamon doesn't want us sharing a room."
"Oh." The Arl's request was not entirely unexpected but she had no wish to be alone simply to alleviate a nobleman's obsession with propriety. Maker be thanked her father could not hear that particular thought.
"It's just until we fix things with the Wardens," he added.
"What do the Wardens matter when it comes to us?"
Seeing the distress etched across her face, Alistair slid his hand against her cheek and his thumb traced across the cheekbone in an attempt to reassure her. "I don't know but we have to trust Eamon."
She heard the words but paid little attention as a little thrill of excitement made her breath hitch and her thoughts scatter at the nearness of him. The encouraging smile on his face faltered as his fingers sensed the change in her and she watched as his eyes searched her face. For what, she had no idea. Perhaps he had said something else and she had missed it but suddenly, she found that she had no interest in either Eamon or Grey Wardens. At least not the Orlesian Wardens. A certain Fereldan Grey Warden however... Maker, this was what happened when darkspawn, politics and bloody rebellions were pushed to one side. Even just for one night.
Whether her true intent flashed across her face or spoke through his fingers, it brought its own reward. His expression changed from anxious concern to a split second worth of surprise before he tightened the grip of his fingers against her head and drew her towards him with a well-practised ease.
Even as her own hand trailed up to his cheek in an attempt to prevent him from pulling away while she deepened the kiss, she expected to hear some muffled protest or half-hearted objection but none was forthcoming. Satisfied that he was sufficiently convinced that Eamon's request could wait until tomorrow like everything else, her other hand scrabbled at the door latch behind her. Hearing the squeal of the catch slipping from its hold, she brought both of her hands to his chest and gripped at his shirt. Still caught in the embrace, she yanked him against her while at the same time taking a step back against the door. Their combined weight meant that it creaked open with no further persuasion and in a tangle of limbs they staggered into the room. The manoeuvre was repeated in reverse in order to close the door and the bang which followed marked the end of all coherent thought for the remainder of the night.
Many thanks to the wonderful EasternViolet for her beta work on this chapter. All mistakes are entirely mine.