Chapter 32: Talk of Assassins
It seemed as if the Maker had it in for them. What could have been a day and night of rest turned out to be an entirely different matter. For the battle-weary Hadrian and his companions, the last thing they wanted to see was a damsel in distress.
They were halfway to their campsite, which was several feet away from the entrance to the Calenhad Docks, when a young female elf had come running to them. Her clothes were torn at the bottom, as if something had clawed at her feet during her escape and only managed to tear holes in skirt instead. Hadrian really hoped that she was going for a morning jog, although the chance for that to happen was extremely low. His already low hopes were dashed instantly when she caught sight of them and sprinted towards them, an anguished expression distorting what could have been a pretty face.
"Please, good ser! My friends! My friends are trapped underneath the wagon!" She panted several times, trying to get her breathing under control.
"Oh lovely," Morrigan complained, "now we have to rescue another helpless bunch of idiots. Can we just get one hour of rest? Just one hour?"
The others, usually short with Morrigan whenever she was in her mood, couldn't help but agree with her. Even Leliana was exhausted. Her hands almost trembled and she could feel her leather armor cracking in some places. In spite of her exhaustion though, she still held unto her longbow. Life had taught her well in being prepared for anything. You couldn't survive playing the Game by being so trusting of people and situations.
"It's ok, people," Hadrian said to them in a deceptively strong voice. Only Alistair knew that his voice shook but it was subtle, very subtle indeed. He walked ahead of them, with the girl walking in front of the departing nobleman.
"Hadrian! Where are you going?" Alistair called out to him.
"To help them. It doesn't take five people to lift a wagon." A shout was thrown over the departing man's shoulder. He still didn't falter in his steps as he followed the leading elf.
Alistair cursed to himself. He really wished that Hadrian hadn't left Regus at the camp with the dwarves now. At least Regus could pick up on the underlying tones of someone tricking them into a trap. He didn't know what to do though and, upon looking at his tired friends, it seemed as if they didn't know what to do either. Only Sten fared better than all of them. His posture had remained straight all this time, even after the Fade and the battle with Uldred. They didn't have stamina draughts with them and neither Wynne nor Morrigan were experienced enough in crafting new stamina droughts.
The mages were runners-up in terms of stamina, thanks to the lyrium vials that Hadrian had managed to stock from Lothering and pilfered from various dead bodies along the way to the Tower. The two ladies were a little bit of out of breath, but that was due to the group's brisk pace in heading back to the campsite, where hopefully hot food and a day's rest awaited them.
The least helpful person was the one currently holding unto him, the man's arm slung over his right shoulder. Cullen's eyes had fallen closed a while back and his added weight slowed the Grey Warden down considerably, forcing him to stay at the rear of the pack. What should he do? Take one mage, Leliana and himself to help their friend out? That would leave Sten and another mage behind with Cullen. He didn't like those odds. Cullen had been severely traumatized by Uldred and any mage left alone with him could be in serious danger. Wounded and mentally hurt, Cullen's first instinct upon seeing a lone mage would be to subdue them at best or, at worst, kill them. Seeing as how Hadrian expressed a personal interest in keeping Cullen safe and sane, Alistair did not want to risk earning his wrath by leaving Cullen alone with Morrigan. He should be fine with the older mage though, seeing as how he probably saw her on a weekly basis at the Tower.
A sudden explosion up ahead, where Hadrian had gone, jolted everybody awake, even poor Cullen. Wild eyes popped open and locked with his.
"Mages! They…they're everywhere!" His childhood friend moaned as he frantically tried to escape the Warden's hold on him.
"Stop moving!" Alistair may as well have been talking to a stoned wall, especially when his command only increased Cullen's frantic struggles. Sten moved next to him and all Alistair saw was a blur of a hand as it came down swiftly on the Templar's neck. The effect was instantaneous and Cullen fell against him, with Alistair having enough thought to catch the unconscious man around the torso.
"Sten! You killed him!" Alistair was horrified at what the Qunari had done. Sten just gave him a blank look and then snorted in derision at the Warden's exclamation.
"Check again, human. He still lives; he's just a little bit quieter now. I believe Kadan needs us. Come, let's join him and fight some immoral humans."
"It's not just humans that can be immoral," Alistair muttered underneath his breath. He gently laid the Templar on the ground and pilllowed Cullen's head with a spare blanket that Morrigan had managed to take with them before going into the Tower. Once he made sure that his wounded friend was comfortable, he turned to Wynne, who just nodded her head in answer to his unasked question.
"Morrigan, Sten, you're with me. Leliana, stay and protect Wynne and Cullen. Hopefully Hadrian didn't get himself killed."
Something had taken over Alistair, a surge of a strange type of confidence. He didn't know where it had come from. All he knew was that he had to go to Hadrian and protect him.
Morrigan actually laughed at Alistair's order but she then smiled, apparently pleased with the Warden. "Taking charge, are we, dear Alistair? Perhaps Hadrian should be absent more frequently."
"Shut up, Morrigan and follow me," Alistair growled at her, completely aware of how dangerous her eyes shone at him. The trio ran up ahead, hastening their footsteps at a shrill scream that had pierced the air.
Their path was blocked by a large tree that had felled, probably due to a fire bomb thrown by an enemy. Alistair cursed when there was no clear way around it. The broken end was fully lodged into the boulder it had once grown from while the other end was decorated with branches, too thick and too bunched in together to provide a safe passage.
"Maker's breath! How can we get through here?" Alistair let out a moan of frustration, more so when he heard swords clashing and someone moaning right afterwards. Was it Hadrian who had gotten injured? Was he even still alive?
The Witch huffed for a second and she tapped her staff once on the ground, the blue crystal glowing brightly even for daytime. Her eyes closed and she frowned in concentration as words flowed from her mouth and into the area, echoing around both Sten and Alistair. Alistair, who was close to the Witch, had no idea what she said. Whatever the incantation was, it had an immediate effect and the tree that once blocked their path suddenly turned into smoke, causing the warriors to cough violently and their eyes to tear up.
"Geez, Morrigan! Next time warn us when you're about to do that!" Alistair coughed again. However, the fight took priority over anything else, and Alistair quickly focused on the fight that was taking place in front of him.
"Would you rather have stayed here, pondering on how to get through to Hadrian while he's fighting out there, alone and without you?"
How did she know about that?
"Idiot; you're the only one who can control him. Without you, I would have been dead."
Oh, that's what she meant. "Even with me around, you would have been dead, Morrigan."
The witch gasped at Alistair's retort, surprised that this fumbling, stupidest member of the group could have a quick tongue. Then her eyes hardened and Alistair sensed that he had somehow gained a grudging respect from Morrigan. He used to care about that. To have people like him. In the past, if they liked him, then there was no punishment. Now, he didn't really care and his nonchalance almost confused him. What was going on with him? Had another Alistair taken over his body, while the fumbling, clumsy one was left behind in the Fade?
Another exclamation broke his thoughts and it gave him a cold shudder when he heard it. Capture him? What for and why? His feet acted of their own accord as did his hands. He suddenly saw red when he saw people crowd around a silver-haired being, who was valiantly fighting back and avoiding capture all at the same time.
"Kill these immoral humans," an unrecognized voice commanded his two companions. Sten's lips subtly lifted upwards but that was the only indication of his approval. He shouted something in Qunari and charged forward, his two-handed Greatsword wielded in his broad hands. Alistair was already ahead of him though and Morrigan stayed where she was, out of the dangerous reach of the archers that were now firing at them.
"I can't believe I didn't want to go with them in the first place." She laughed almost in a maniacal way as she cast a paralysis spell on the archers before casting a crushing prison on a warrior that was creeping up behind Hadrian. Feeling the heat of battle call to her, she now understood why her mother loved to fight, to fight and kill those Templars who were hunting them down. The surge of power rolling through her slender frame was invigorating and she wanted to relish this addictive feeling for a long time. Once she got rid of those pesky archers, she now focused on supporting the two warriors that were currently fending off a duo of a rogue and a warrior. Her eyes narrowed when she observed the fluid movements of the rogue, whose daggers flashed brilliantly. He's lethal! Better get rid of him!
However, before she could do anything, she was suddenly stuck herself and the addictive feeling was soon replaced by that of frustration and then despair when she realized that she couldn't breathe. A Crushing prison! She tried in vain to summon the magic into her hands but the decreasing supply of oxygen made her thoughts sluggish. Stars dotted her vision and just when she was about to curse her mother for forcing her to accompany the Grey Wardens, the spell abruptly disappeared, causing her to fall forward on her knees. For a second time, she gasped and heaved, trying to pull in as much air as possible. Someone must have either killed the mage responsible or distracted him enough to have to break off the spell.
As Morrigan was still recovering from her near death experience, Alistair and Sten were forced on the defensive side during their fight with both the warrior and the rogue. Alistair grimaced at the sight of those pointy ears but he successfully blocked the blows of the warrior while Sten literally skewered him in the chest. With the height difference, both Sten and Alistair managed to work together. Alistair's shortness allowed him to move quicker than his taller partner and to block the blows that would have been fatal to either one of them. Seeing that they were fighting back to back now, Alistair's shield covered their flanks while his sword thrust out at any attacker. With their movements in tandem, they successfully overcame their adversary only to discover that the rogue they were initially fighting with had moved on to Hadrian himself.
"Sten! Cover Morrigan!" Alistair shouted and he ran over to where the elf rogue was. Desperation drove him to run faster and his vision tunneled when he saw Hadrian stumble backwards, his chest and neck exposed to the elf's downward strike. No! No!
The Warden was so caught up in trying to reach the elf in time that he didn't notice an arrow whiz by him, the feathers touching against his cheek. It hit the elf in the right hand and there was a loud expletive said in a thick accent unfamiliar to Alistair. However, that wasn't his major concern now.
The distraction of the arrow allowed him more time to stop the other hand from coming down and he charged at the elf, who surprisingly did not try to roll away from him. Perhaps the close victory had dulled his senses and Alistair thanked the Maker for that and for whoever had sent that arrow.
His shield made a solid thunk when connecting with the elf's head and the senior Warden was finally glad to see the elf fall limply to the ground, hands outstretched in front of him. The dagger was thrown out of his hand and landed a few feet away from the elf.
There were a few more screams behind him but Alistair wasn't worried about them. His eyes were fixed hotly on the dazed man lying on the ground and the faint smell of copper came in full force, making his nostrils flare at the scent. Blood…
Of course, there should be the smell of blood in the air. Ten archers lay dead where they were positioned on the ledge to the far left of the clearing. The bodies of the five warriors both Alistair and Sten had killed laid haphazardly over each other, having fallen on top of their comrades in their death throes. Yet, unlike the usual pungent, metallic smell of blood, this scent was sweet, almost like the sweets he used to eat after having pilfered them from Arl Eamon's pantry.
"Alistair? A hand please?" Hadrian was still on the ground, but the Cousland had managed to sit up, albeit not without struggle.
The longsword that was wet with blood was quickly swiped clean before then being sheathed in the scabbard attached to Alistair's back. He offered Hadrian his right hand and pulled the man up, catching him as Hadrian stumbled into him.
"Sorry," Hadrian muttered in a weak voice.
"It's no problem." Alistair replied and he reluctantly let go of Hadrian, who stood on his two feet now. Hadrian's face was unnaturally pale and his armor was even more broken than before. There was a large hole in the man's armor at the left side of the ribs, but with the blood smeared all over Hadrian, he couldn't tell if Hadrian was injured or not.
"Alistair! Hadrian! Are you two alright?" Leliana called out to them breathlessly. The bard had sprinted up to them, her longbow out and ready to be used again in her left hand. So, she must have shot that arrow! Alistair nodded happily at her, thankful that the trio he had left behind had taken initiative to follow them. If that hadn't happened…he shuddered at the alternative scenario, at the sight of Hadrian's throat slashed to ribbons by the elf's dagger. No! Don't think of that! Don't!
"Alistair? Are you hurt?" Hadrian asked him, his eyes traveling down his friend's body, checking for any injuries that he may have required from this strange fight. Other than the occasional blood streaks from an enemy, no wounds could be found on the taller Warden's body and Hadrian was very glad to see that. He was going to mentally hit himself if his foolishness had resulted in either a party member being severely injured or wind up dead. Of course, he didn't want to tell them that he was wounded, again.
A soft moan was uttered from the downed elf but he didn't move again.
"He's still alive," Alistair almost growled, his hand already reaching for his sheathed weapon. Hadrian stopped him with a gentle hand.
"Don't kill him! We need some questions answered, particularly why they only wanted to capture me and not kill me."
"What? He just tried to kill us!" Alistair became furious at Hadrian. However, whenever that strong jaw would clench stubbornly, he knew that he couldn't convince the man otherwise. He sighed and removed his hand from where it had held unto the hilt.
"You can tie him up and then interrogate him." Leliana suggested.
"I would kill the elf," Morrigan stated, surprisingly supporting Alistair in this one. "He did indeed try to kill us." Her staff was still glowing a bright blue, ready to strike at the elf.
"We're not killing him, people," Hadrian said in a firm tone. He did allow Leliana tie the man up though and he stirred towards the end of it, his eyes fluttering open.
"Oh, I have a huge headache. I should be dead, not experiencing this awful headache." The elf groaned. He attempted to bring a hand up to rub his eyes but discovered that his hands were bound behind his back. Normally, he would have found this kinky and particularly arousing, especially when a very handsome man was standing over him. Two sparkling blue eyes stared at him and they were disturbingly piercing, as if the Warden could see his thoughts and secrets. He was mildly surprised to see the same man he had been fighting against still standing. Then again, the poison-maker did say that this particular brand of soldier's bane had a unique way of wreaking havoc on the victim's body.
"Who sent you and why?" Oh my, gets straight to the point, doesn't he? Zevran chuckled to himself, shaking his head ruefully.
"Well now, since I am tied up and have failed my mission, I am in under no obligation to not tell you." The man's blue eyes became even sharper than before and the tip of the sword was now touching against his throat, barely scratching the surface.
"Alistair, put the sword away." There was a muttered grumble of sorts but the taller man standing right next to his captor did what he was told. Apparently, this shorter man here was the leader of this strange ragtag group. His captor then crouched in front of him, apparently unconcerned with the possibility of Zevran's attempt to get out of his bounds and attack Hadrian.
"I don't' like Assassins," the captors tone was deadly and Zevran could literally feel the man's heat radiate from his body. "Your men are dead and like you said before, you apparently failed your mission. Failed assassination attempts are unforgivable." In other words, Zevran thought, the Crow would probably kill him either way. He examined the man and his companions thoughtfully, analyzing their potential worth in protecting and killing him.
After spending a few quick seconds in inspecting his captors, Zevran finally relented to himself. Ah well, I would much prefer to staying alive and be killed later by this beautiful specimen of a man than hide away from my own employees.
He began his story by way of introductions before relaying the details of his mission to the Wardens and their friends. At the end of it, the man had stood up, scowling at the news. Zevran did not like whenever a beautiful face scowls. The furrowed brows and the deep creases of the forehead all marred the wonderful aspects of that face, making it less beautiful and more average. However, this man's scowl hadn't marred his handsome features and Zevran already started to imagine him fighting with Hadrian and him winning. Hmm, that would be delicious, indeed.
Unfortunately for Zevran, who didn't know Alistair very well, the spiked scent of arousal did not escape Alistair's notice. While the Templar wasn't familiar with the smell of arousal, he certainly heard the heartbeat go up and saw the almost flushed features of the bound elf. The elf's face did not give any hint of desiring Hadrian, but Alistair could smell the elf's want for his friend and his hands balled into fists.
When Hadrian announced Zevran free and when Zevran, once untied and now facing the man with an intense expression on that dark-skinned face, swore an oath to do his services, Alistair became angry again.
"He just tried to kill us! And you want to take an Assassin with us? I thought you hate Assassins!"
The man just released an almost shaky exhale of breath and his hand wiped across his brow. "And who's better equipped in recognizing and dealing with other Crows that may be after us?"
Alistair wanted to rebut that statement and he imagined himself giving coherent explanations to Hadrian, listing off the reasons why they shouldn't take the Antivan elf with them. In reality though, he didn't say anything. He just stared blankly at Hadrian.
"Look, we're all tired here," Hadrian announced in an weary tone. "Let's just find Bodahn and his son and then get some rest." He didn't tell his friends about his wounds. Being caught out on the path far longer than he wanted to made him anxious. However, despite his body almost shutting down on him, he couldn't give into the dark abyss that was seducing him. Not yet anyways.
-o0o-
They had just arrived in camp, all the party members weary from their exhaustive trip to the Circle and fighting a Crow assassin. Fortunately, the two dwarves who were left behind at the camp had already prepared dinner and their tents. Bodahn cooked lamb chops, the finest ones thanks to some bribery money, with their homemade sauce, a supposed family secret until Sandal told Wynn how to make it. Hadrian walked rather briskly into his tent, not wanting anyone to accost him and question on his pale features. He carefully peeled off his armour and scowled at the blood bleeding through his undergarments. The battles with Uldred and Zevran did not end without injuries, but the young Grey Warden insisted on treating others first. He gave his last injury kit to Alistair, who was in worse shape than he, and Wynn did not have enough mana to heal everyone. Even so, the Grey Warden was pleased with his decision but his body clearly wasn't. He barely managed to stifle a moan as he placed a fresh roll of gauze on there. He carefully dressed himself again, not wanting to aggravate the wound any worse and was just about to walk out of the tent when a shadow appeared outside of it and a familiar voice called out to him.
"Hadrian! Food's ready!"
A smile appeared on the man's face and his hand pulled over the flap, revealing the grinning face of Bodahn, who was holding a bowl of venison stew in cloth-covered hands.
"Thanks, Bodahn. Please place it by the bench."
The bench was nothing more than a piece of wood sawed from a felled tree. It was actually thanks to Morrigan that they had this for she had taken the time in working the wood, until it was as smooth as a baby's bottom. She did it right before they left for Calenhad Docks and Hadrian felt guilty again for having almost killed her. Thank the Maker they had a good talk in the Fade. After finding her trapped in her dream with Flemeth, she thanked him in a genuine way, her voice lacking her usual bitterness. When he apologized to her, she just brushed it off, saying that she liked a man who had the guts to do that to a mage. Apology is a sign of weakness, Hadrian. Never apologize for what you think is right. Her response made him reanalyze the Witch, putting her in a better light than before.
"Hadrian? We need to talk." Someone said to him, as if from far away, and he slowly lifted his head, to regard the tall blonde. Maker's breath…not now! His wounds flared at the wrong time and he barely stifled a moan.
"Thanks for saving me back there," Hadrian managed to say to his friend, hoping to deflect any questions regarding that scene in the Fade. He promised Alistair that they would talk, but did it have to be now, when all he wanted to do was just curl in his bed and pass out?
He noticed that it was getting extremely cold out here, despite the fire crackling right next to him. Also, the fire seemed to be getting louder and louder, with Alistair's voice sounding as if the older Warden was miles way instead of being a few inches in front of him. A question was asked of him and he looked up, only to find his field of vision narrowing to Alistair's concerned face. His last thought before slipping into the waiting darkness was why is he looking at me like that?
-o0o-
"Hadrian? Are you- Hadrian!" Alistair stopped in mid-sentence when he saw his friend's eyes roll up and he stepped forward to catch the man in his arms. At his shout, the other members of the party immediately looked up from whatever they were doing and the mood shifted from sheer exhaustion to energy and concern for their unclaimed leader.
Wynn rushed from her tent to kneel at Hadrian's side, opposite of Alistair. She placed a hand on her friend's forehead and silently cursed at the unusual warmth emanating from it. Leliana was at her left, already having brought a pail of hot water and a soft cloth.
"What happened? Is he alright?" The Bard handed the Healer a cloth, which was placed on the fallen leader's head. The coolness of the cloth elicited a soft moan from her patient. Wynne shushed her patient and she looked to Sten, who was standing rather curiously over the group.
"What caused this? He was fine when he walked away from me and to his tent."
"We'll find out, Sten. But for now, please help us instead of asking questions."
If Sten had any protests with a woman, in fact, a female mage, giving him orders, he did not give any. Instead, he had Alistair lay the unconscious noble's head in his lap while draping his torso on the grass, to give him better access to the man's body. Sten gently unclasped the hooks that connected the two sides of the breastplate and everyone gasped at the infected wound in his flank.
"By the Maker, what is this?"
Leliana's lips pursed together in a thoughtful manner and her eyes glared at the person standing next to her. Before anyone could react, she grabbed the elf's wrists and tied them above his head. Zevran was not taken by surprise, however, and he neatly countered the move with a swift kick to her calves. He, unfortunately, did not know the redhead very well and her friends either. As soon as everyone saw Leliana give the newcomer a deadly glare, they reacted very strongly. Such a loyal group, this is, to one single man! Zevran did not have the opportunity to strike the Bard unconscious for Morrigan had cast a paralysis spell.
"Keep him there, Morrigan," Alistair commanded, easily fitting in the role of his friend. "I knew we shouldn't have kept this elf!"
"What did you do to him?" Leliana asked the Antivan Crow in a venomous tone. Her blue eyes, once softened in mercy for this elf, were now hardened into icy jewels. Her dagger was dangerously close to his throat and Zevran knew that with just one word from any of her friends, it could easily end him. Thus, he conceded defeat and raised his hands in surrender.
"My, my. Such loyalty for this man!"
Morrigan concentrated and the spell prison tightened around him, making it difficult for the elf to breathe.
"Alright! Alright! Before he showed mercy, I used a poisoned dagger on him. It doesn't start on the body until he sits down. This, however, is an unprecedented reaction."
"What is the poison?" The woman hissed at him. "Tell us! Or, by the maker, I will make you wish you were dead back there."
"If you must know, dear Leliana. I used soldier's bane on him."
Gasps could be heard around him and the Assassin had the feeling that this was not going to turn well for him unless his savior wakes up and saves him, again.
"Damn it! We don't have the ingredients for that!" Alistair had shouted.
"Actually," Wynne started, her hands placed on the noble's chest that was feebly rising up and down. "I have a few ingredients. All we need is the blood lotus."
"But that is a rare flower and is only seen in winter. We are in the early spring months." Leliana pointed out, her disappointment clear in her sad tone. Zevran noticed her hand trembling and tried to move away from her dagger. It was a poor attempt and he only succeeded in her bringing the dagger even closer to him.
"I know," Wynne commented. Her brows knitted together in fierce concentration and suddenly, an idea came into mind. "The circle of Magi keeps several rare items, in case of emergencies such as these. I am quite sure that we can get one there. However, the circle of Magi is at least a few days away, and that's on horseback."
"Just so you know, I do have the antidote." Zevran said. A wry smile appeared on his face and, with the shadows of the fire, gave him a very dark appearance. Morrigan, were it any other time than this, would have found that very attractive. Unfortunately, having the Warden dead from a dishonoured elf's action would severely ruin her plans and she was finding this elf taxing her already thinned patience.
"Tis better to let the elf give us the antidote. He has nothing to lose now, except his life."
"No, Morrigan," Alistair protested quite eagerly, "he has already shown himself to be dangerous and not trustworthy. He could have easily told us that he injured Hadrian. Instead, he kept silent and let us see for ourselves what the poison could do. No, we should just kill him and be done with it."
"I would have to agree with Alistair," Sten's voice rumbled softly, his hands still taking off the armor pieces. The Qunari shook his head at the chest that was riddled with bruises and lacerations. What bothered him more was the wound in his friend's flank.
"No…my fault…" an even softer voice cried out, almost deafened in his friends' arguments concerning the fate of the Assassin. "Leave…him…be."
Again, my lovely ass gets saved by this handsome warrior. Zevran struggled against the invisible bonds of Morrigan's spell but to no avail.
"Hadrian, you're hurt. Just keep quiet for a change." Alistair's tone brooked no argument but Hadrian insisted on getting up. Hadrian's body protested violently and his stomach moved uneasily, giving the man a very queasy feeling. Without warning, he shoved Sten to the side with abnormal strength and vomited in the spot the Qunari warrior was previously sitting in. He should have been embarrassed at expelling his breakfast and lunch contents in front of his friends but he was too tired to care, too sick to even say something to them. After several agonizing moments of vomiting followed by dry heaving, a pair of hands gently coaxed him in lying back down and a cool rag was placed across his forehead. He heard his companions arguing in the background and he wanted to say something, to avoid another life being discarded so carelessly, a life that he personally saved. Alistair's voice reverberated throughout his whole being and for an inexplicable reason it relaxed him, causing him to rush headlong into oblivion.
The templar held his friend gently, waiting for the eyes to close shut after that harrowing experience of being wounded, stabbed, and then poisoned by a shifty, pointy-eared person whose name he did not wish to remember. He saw that Hadrian was trying to say something before losing consciousness and felt that the man truly wanted them to spare Zevran. In my years at the Cousland Castle, I was taught to keep my friends close, but my enemies closer. Those words swirled in his mind and he figured that Hadrian was right in keeping an Assassin with them. One, they would definitely know his location and should he ever attempt to take the Wardens' lives, the other companions would act on it. Two, the Assassin was an Antivan Crow and could be helpful in identifying any possible assassination attempts by other Crows. Thinking out the pros and cons, as well as considering what his friend would do in his place, Alistair let out a deep sigh and looked at the Dalish Elf, who was still in Morrigan's paralysis spell. Leliana looked ready to kill him then and there. Thus, he had better say something before the Bard's hand slips.
"Leliana, Morrigan, let Zevran go."
Several expletives, most including the Maker's name and Andraste, were shouted at him, but the Templar merely shrugged them off.
"I'm not going to repeat myself. Hadrian saved this elf and there is a good reason why,"
If anyone was surprised by Alistair's sharp tone, none showed it on their faces, except maybe for Morrigan. An unsettling expression was shown on her face and those golden eyes glanced at him in a piercing way, as if she was trying to find out what caused this sudden behavior in the 'stupidest member of the group.' Whatever she had found, it must have been satisfactory enough for her to release the spell and have her muttering to herself while walking back to her own camp.
The Dalish elf coughed and rubbed his throat with his hands. Never going to piss off her again. The Witch will enjoy torturing me more than that redhead! He was just about to stand up when sharp pain lanced his head and the world tilted upside down. He fell back to the ground rather awkwardly and found Leliana standing over him, her fist ready to punch him again.
"That was for Hadrian, you slimy Antivan," she spat vehemently at him before striding to where Alistair, Sten, and Wynne were sitting. The Dalish elf couldn't believe that the redhead had the guts do to that to an Antivan Crow. Then again, he rather liked feisty women and Orlesian women were said to be the most dangerous of them all, even when compared to Antivan women. He got up, nonchalantly brushing off any wayward grass that found its way into his fine, leather armor. Then he gave Wynne the antidote vial before stalking off into his own tent, his departure carefully watched by everyone at camp.
Finally relieved at the elf's absence, the others immediately set to work on tending to Hadrian. Wynne had Alistair open the nobleman's mouth and the precious contents were poured down the man's throat. At first, Hadrian had trouble swallowing and his throat had to be massaged by Alistair to allow for the antidote to make its way into his stomach. Once the antidote was taken, Wynne placed her hands on Hadrian's chest and focused her will on healing her friend's wounds. The two warriors marveled at how easily the flesh knitted itself together and the angry infection started to disappear. In a few moments, where the side was reddened with infection, there was now only unblemished skin, fair in tone.
"It is done," Wynne's voice was slightly strained when she said this and Alistair saw her taking another lyrium potion from her pouch. She drank it down and her complexion darkened a bit. "Alistair, can you carry him to his tent? Sten-"
"No, I will carry Kadan. Alistair is more proficient in cleaning human armor and weapons."
While this statement was true indeed, the Templar's temper increased and his face reddened at the Qunari's blunt disobedience. However, before he could say something, the tall warrior was already picking up the limp form of their leader and started to head towards the nobleman's tent, pitched towards the near road to serve as a watcher. Wynne couldn't help but smile when she noticed that Alistair truly wanted to make some comment at being easily cast aside by their strange Qunari.
"Don't worry, Alistair. Sten won't do anything undesirable to your friend."
Her smile increased at the sight of a flush creeping unto the Templar's cheeks, giving him an adorable appearance.
"Well…it's…not like that…ummm…yeah, I'm just going to clean Hadrian's stuff."
Muttering to himself, he gathered his friend's belongings and went to his own tent. The older mage sighed heavily and followed Sten, taking notice of the dark patch on the ground where Hadrian was lying before. So much blood…
-TBC-
DZD3: I'm getting excited too and I'm the one writing it!
YoshisSupport: Sorry if this chapter is not the 'talk' of sorts. I wanted to have Zevran make his appearance before they start.
Aelfirc's Cat: I love cheese too! Brie is my fav btw.
David9999: I hope you like how this chapter focuses more on Hadrian's group than him. I'm trying to make them appear real to the reader. Seeing that no one has really mentioned this, I'm not sure if I have succeeded in this or not.
THE KID: How's that for capitalization? :D And yes, you are awesome!
Yes, I've yet to find a story that involves Cullen tagging along with the group. Then again, that move is not exactly canon...oh well!
Zevran has made an appearance and it looks like Alistair may have to fight off a potential suitor. Also, the next chapter is the 'talk of all sorts' so please look forward to it. I hope everybody else does too!
Gatorsnacks: Thanks! I like it when I leave a review for a story and the author talks back to me. Not many writers on ff dot net dot this though. Shame.
A/N: Review if you want hot wolf on wolf action, metaphorically speaking of course! (Quote of THE KID)