Chapter 39: Return

Alistair woke to someone mumbling nearby and he instantly bolted up in bed, a dagger in his hand.

"I have not come to murder you, dear Warden," Zevran commented in a mocking tone. "But it is good to see you thought so, no?"

"Leave him alone, Zevran," another said hoarsely. It sounded weak and Alistair saw that Hadrian was already sitting up, his eyes tired but more focused now. Alistair also noticed that Zevran was sitting a little bit too close to his lover, too close.

He unknowingly let out a growl of disapproval, prompting Zevran to stare at him for a long moment before finally turning his attention to the convalescing leader. Hadrian also heard the growl and he fought very hard against the urge to submit to Alistair.

His knuckles clenched tightly in the blanket that covered his naked lower half. When he heard that soft growl again, he almost turned his head to the side when thankfully, Zevran decided to leave them, saying, "it appears that he wants some alone with you, Hadrian. I daresay I won't stop him…"

Whatever Zevran had said after that was lost when the elf left his tent. Almost immediately, Alistair pounced on the other man, his hard body colliding rather roughly against the injured warden.

"Alistair, wha-mfphh!" Hard lips crashed against his and there was a sudden rush of arousal through him, especially when he felt the bulge dig into his thigh. He tried to push the heavier warden back but found that his injuries left him weaker than usual.

Alistair deepened the kiss and all Hadrian could do now was moan as the blonde man explored the sweet depths of his mouth. Soon, breathing became priority and they separated, both having flushed expressions on their faces.

Then, Alistair scowled and he leaned over Hadrian, his lips dangerously close to his ear. "You're mine. If Zevran so much as looks at you funny, I'll kill him."

Before Hadrian could say anything, Wynne had come in. If the sight of two men being closer together than normal bothered her, she made no comment on it. Instead, she smiled almost knowingly and knelt on the opposite side of Alistair, clearly missing the subtle transition of that angry scowl to his now usual jovial look.

"You are looking better," she said. Her hands felt cool against his forehead, but the heat came from what had happened between him and Alistair, not from fever. "But you are still warm. Considering the weather here, I probably should thank Alistair for keeping you warm."

Alistair had the decency to blush and he looked away in embarrassment.

Wynne saw that and she let out a little laugh. "Never mind that. It was good that we were camped not too far away from here. When Morrigan contacted me in my dreams, she bid me to come here as soon as possible."

"But, it was too dangerous for you to come here by yourself!" Hadrian remarked and he visibly winced as his outburst pulled on his wound.

"I didn't come alone," Wynne said, "and you should refrain from shouting, young man." Hadrian nodded in agreement, perhaps the pain too great for him to reply.

"Wynne," a soft, feminine voice called out. There was a sound of a tent flap being opened and Leliana had peeked her head in. Her red hair was white with snow already and her cheeks were paler than usual. Thankfully, her lips weren't blue and she still had her grace as she fully entered the tent, carrying in a large cup of hot soup. "Oh, I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"No," the older mage shook her head as she guided her hands over Hadrian's upper torso. "He needs to eat anyways."

"I think I can speak for myself, Wynne," Hadrian managed to say before saying 'ow!' when her hands clasped around his head, touching only lightly at the back of his skull. Wynne closed her eyes for a moment. Both Alistair and Leliana saw her hands glow and then reverted back to normal. Hadrian groaned and he tried to grab for his temple, only to his hand be swatted by the senior enchanter.

"Maker," Wynne scolded her patient impatiently, "you're intolerable as a patient."

"It's part of my noble charm," Hadrian replied sarcastically. The mage forgave the harsh remark and she looked to Leliana, who offered her the soup.

"Alistair, you feed him," Wynne suddenly said and she stood up, causing all three to look at her in surprise. "I've no more patience for this one. Cullen still needs some healing of his own. Just be sure he eats it all."

"Oh, trust me," Alistair smirked at the glowering man. "He will, by any means necessary."

Leliana giggled at how Alistair's threat was balanced out by the wiggling of the eyebrows. She left with Wynne, the smell of something sweet, like lilies, drifting in their wake. Alistair found the scent to his liking but it was nowhere near as enticing as the one that radiated from the healing Warden. As he scooped the soup into a wooden spoon, he turned his gaze to Hadrian and found that the threat was unfounded after all. Hadrian ate the soup without a fight or a complaint.

"You sure you're ok?" Alistair asked as he spoon-fed him the soup. Hadrian's continued silence bothered him. "Hadrian?"

All he got in reply was soft snoring and Alistair gazed at him tenderly, his fingers stroking back the stray hairs. He was sorely tempted to stay and cuddle with his lover but with everybody else awake, especially that sneaky elf, he couldn't give in. Instead, he merely tucked the blankets around the warm body and giving one last careful glance at the slumbering Cousland, he left the warm confines of their tent.

The blast of cold air and snow almost had him scrambling back to the cozy interior. However, there was work to be done, such as dealing with a now-awake Templar.

From what Wynne had told him earlier, before Hadrian roused from his head injury, Cullen had came awake screaming Loren's name. It had everyone bolt up and grab their weapons, including the elf. Once the source of the scream was identified, however, they all went back to their routine. Sten stood guard, like an impassive stature, at the entrance of their camp. He never shivered and Alistair wondered if perhaps the Qunari's thick grey skin served as a barrier to extreme weathers as well as blades. The dwarves, well, Bodahn cooked more food, using whatever ingredients made available to them. Thank the Maker they had leftover dried meat and herbs before their trip to this freezing area. Leliana skirted the perimeters of the camp, rechecking the traps and ensuring the triggering mechanisms were not faulty or overly sensitive. The screams of a dying animal were not pleasant to wake up to early in the morning. Wynne, if not busy with a patient, which is almost all the time, could be found sitting right outside her tent, crushing some herbs and synthesizing health potions and other various items.

The newcomers, unfortunately, had no duties, whether it be assigned or self-given. Perhaps he should leave that to Hadrian when he gets better.

"Foolish Templar! You even think of smiting me and I will do worse to you than you can imagine!" An angry shout was heard over the din of the camp.

"Morrigan! Stop this nonsense! He's in no shape to deal with a mage such as you," an older voice cried out and Alistair cursed when a bright light came into being, no doubt a spell of Morrigan or Wynne or maybe even the holy smite spell of Cullen.

He literally ran to where they were at and discovered that the bright flash of light, thank the Maker, wasn't from Cullen but from Wynne. Morrigan's furious scowl marred her seductive features and Alistair suddenly burst out laughing, finding her glowering eyes and tightly pursed lips extremely funny to see. Wynne, on the other hand, did not approve of his reaction and she froze him too, more out of annoyance than of any need for protection.

Leliana's silvery laugh was echoed by Sandal's exclamation of 'enchantment!' and Bodahn's good-natured chuckle. Even Sten looked amused, albeit barely. His eyes held an awareness of the situation and there was a slight tilt of his lips to one side.

The paralysis effect dimmed and it left Alistair spluttering, his finger pointing accusingly at Wynne. She just folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, the way a mother would when scolding a child.

"I can't believe-you-"

"And dear Alistair is once again the stupidest member of this group," Morrigan sneered at the fumbling blonde Grey Warden.

Cullen, who was witnessing this strange scene, still saw Morrigan as a very real threat but before he could do anything, Alistair had stepped forward, effectively blocking his view of the dark-haired sorceress.

"Cullen," Alistair whispered softly to him, his eyes peering at him in genuine concern. "It's ok. You're safe."

"A mage, a maleficar!" Cullen started to shake and his hands fumbled at his side, reaching for a sword that wasn't there and for good reason.

"Uhh…well…she's not exactly a maleficar…but she's good, she's with us." Alistair tried to assuage the trembling Templar. Cullen didn't appear to be appeased by that though and Alistair began to think that taking a traumatized Templar was a bad idea now.

"C'me on, let's go back inside, hmm? She won't follow us." Alistair guided a complaint Cullen back to his own tent, well aware of Morrigan being 'guided' by Leliana to the girls' tent. He inwardly laughed at that fact, knowing that Morrigan loathed sharing personal space. However, even her magic wasn't enough to keep the cold out permanently and she knew that survival in the freezing cold meant sharing warmth with another.

With his hand on Cullen's elbow, he steadied his fellow Templar as the other man settled down into the blankets.

"Why are you doing this? Why are mages with us?" Cullen asked, his voice trembling and Alistair had a feeling it wasn't due to the cold.

"Well, Wynne's our number one healer and Morrigan is payment for our timely rescue," Alistair joked, trying to lighten the templar's mood. It only caused Cullen's eyebrows to furrow in confusion, but at least it got his mind off the topic of mages. Speaking of which, Loren was a mage. At least that was what Hadrian had told him. Perhaps saying something about Loren would help refocus Cullen? It couldn't hurt.

"So, Loren's a mage…don't you, you know, dislike him too?" Alistair's innocent question resulted in such a weird reaction that it made Alistair regret his asking in the first place. Cullen's eyes grew so wide that they looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. The man's mouth opened and closed much like a gaping fish and his hands made fists in the blankets.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's alright. I needed..." Cullen sharply inhaled. "I needed to talk about it anyways. Loren, he's…"

There was a pause and the way his cheeks flushed prompted Alistair to think that perhaps Cullen and Loren were more than on friendly terms between a Templar and a mage.

"He's special…he needs me…and it's the reason why I need to go to Redcliffe."

"Redcliffe? How did you know?"

"My dreams…he's in my dreams and he calls me to Redcliffe."

"Dreams? Are you sure it wasn't a demon or something? It-"

"No!" Cullen answered fervently. "I know…I know a demon when I see one…no, he's real, even in my dreams.

"Cullen…" Alistair didn't want to remind the other blonde man of his imprisonment in the Circle. The rants and raving of him, saying that blood mages would tease him by giving him what he desired most in demonic form, would probably not serve a good purpose here.

"Please, Alistair," Cullen beseeched him, his pale hand covering his. "I need to go. He's there and he's in trouble." Beads of sweat developed on his forehead and the body trembled. Wynne was going to kill him if he didn't let Cullen rest. So, not trusting his own voice, Alistair nodded a promise to Cullen, who laid back in his makeshift bed and returned to a much needed slumber.

-TBC-