Chapter 50: Andraste's Blessing
The party of four had finally arrived at Redcliffe Castle, exhausted and relieved from their successful mission. Hadrian, however, sensed that something was amiss in the lack of a welcoming pary at the entrance. First, Zevran had never failed in trying to ambush him with a kiss or a hug, an action that usually prompted a low growl from his fellow Warden. Secondly, he smelled a different kind of sickness around the castle, like poison.
It could have originated from the Arl himself, but this smell of oil and blood lotus was foreign, new to his olfactory senses. His inner wolf was strangely silent and his chest hurt, as if someone had shoved a sword into his heart.
Even Wynne appeared worried about the strange silence and her silver brows furrowed in thought. She whispered something to Leliana and the redhead nodded in agreement to whatever the older mage had said to her.
They entered the castle and the smell of poison thickened, so much so it made Hadrian want to gag and expel his breakfast. No one could be found waiting by the warm hearth and the group headed out to the Arl's private room, only to find all of their companions standing around.
The presence of his companions, who all turned their heads to the group's arrival, was surprising and would have been welcoming were it not for the fact that the blonde elf, Zevran, was standing guard over whoever laid on the bed next to the Arl.
"Hey, what's going on?" Hadrian asked as he approached the elf and his heart literally stopped for a few seconds at the sight of the bed's occupant. Colour drained so rapidly from that proud and noble face that Alistair thought his lover was going to collapse. The blonde warrior quickly drew closer to the other warrior's side, a broad hand reaching out to touch the small of his back.
"Fergus! What happened to him?" Hadrian asked as he felt Fergus' forehead with the back of his hand. It was cool and clammy. Good. Whatever he had must have already been flushed from his body. But how? These thoughts circled each other in Hadrian's head and the only thing the silver-haired warrior caught from Zevran's explanation was that they had already caught the culprit.
"What? That elf we saw in that Lloyd's tavern?" It was Alistair who asked that question and Zevran's head nodded slightly. "But we saved him! Why would he do this?"
"The poison is slow-acting but very deadly. He is lucky that it is also a common type used by the Crows," the elf continued and he took out a small vial from a pouch stored in the tight space between his undergarment and chestplate.
Alistair held the small vial in his hand, the clear liquid swishing harmlessly in its container. He shuddered at the alternative, of what could have happened if Zevran wasn't with them in the first place. In this moment, the blonde prince regretted for ever suggesting to kill the elf upon their initial meeting. He wordlessly handed it back to Zevran and saw that Hadrian was still kneeling at his brother's side. His lover's face was still pale but there was none of that despair now in those blue eyes. Fergus was safe for the moment at least.
"Where is he now?" Alistair asked him and he received a wry grin from the elf.
"Oh, do not worry about him. I've dealt with our culprit,"
"Dealt?" The blonde suddenly realized that one of the daggers Zevran had strapped to his back held an amber tinge to it, as if it was washed in a hurry and without a care. That in of itself was a sign of Zevran losing his cool. Before having met Fergus, Zevran was ever the amorous, sassy elf who had no respect for personal space. During battle, the elf would joke about how clumsy the warriors were, how slow they make their kills. Even at dinnertime, the blonde assassin would blatantly oogle at Hadrian and Alistair. Despite his amorous behaviour, the assassin never failed in cleaning his weapons after killing his opponents.
"Is he going to be ok?" Hadrian asked of Zevran and the elf smiled warmly at him, which looked very odd on a face hardened by distrust and murders.
"I believe so. Your brother is lucky that we Crows carry antidotes of any poison we may carry on our missions. Can't complete a mission if we are dead, no?"
"Shit," Hadrian brushed his arm against his brow, a sign of distress Alistair found out later, "let's just get this this over with and leave this place."
-o0o-
It was oddly strange to see the ashes of a long, deceased religious figure being sprinkled on the Arl but there was a collective audible sigh of relief at the sight of the Arl opening his eyes. Everyone waited for the Arl to collect his senses and it was Lady Isolde who answered his first question, a heartfelt smile etching her beautiful face.
Hadrian, while he was glad to see the Arl fully coherent and moving about, albeit slowly, was anxious in seeing Fergus do the same thing. He lost his entire family except Fergus and the youngest son didn't want to go through that devastating night again.
He felt Alistair's hand squeeze his shoulder, showing his support, and gifted the blonde a weary smile before turning his attentions to the speaking Arl.
"We need someone with stronger ties to the throne," Arl Eamon said and Hadrian felt his heart plummet into his stomach at the insinuation behind the statement. Everyone looked to Alistair, except for Hadrian, who knew what Arl Eamon was trying to do. Use Alistair's heritage to outbid Loghain's for the the throne of Ferelden.
"Me? Trust me, I wouldn't be a good king," Alistair shook his head rather vigorously but Arl Eamon was not so easily put off.
"You must heed your responsibility, Alistair," Arl Eamon said in a chastising tone and it angered Hadrian that all the Arl viewed his lover was simply a pawn in Court politics, not a young man coming into his confidence, into his role as one of the greatest Grey Wardens who ever lived.
"It is all a moot point if the Archdemon appears and destroys us all," Hadrian interrupted rather caustically and his abruptness earned a stern, disapproving glance from both Arl Eamon and Lady Isolde. "I need time to gather allies."
"Of course, meet me here once you've gathered everyone you possibly can," was all Arl Eamon had time to say before Hadrian gave a brief bow of respect and promptly left the the room. Hadrian's friends merely stared at where Hadrian had stood and then they too all left, all wearing different versions of concern and confusion at their leader's abrupt departure.
As expected, Hadrian went straight towards Fergus' new room, a rather luxurious guest bedroom located on the second floor. It was by sheer luck that there was enough of Andraste's ashes to also heal his ailing brother but Fergus was still unconscious and his senseless state worried the younger brother immensely.
Respecting his privacy, the others except for Alistair had found some excuse to be elsewhere. Wynne wanted to peruse their potions and medical supplies, with Sten offering to go with her, more for her protection than anything else. It definitely raised a few eyebrows when the strange pair left the floor, the towering form of the Qunari making Wynne look fragile and child-like. Morrigan found the room stinking worse than that 'poor excuse of a Mabari' but Hadrian could have sworn she smiled a little at him before leaving. The young Cousland had no idea on what could have brought that out. Morrigan and he, while not exactly at each other's throat, do not always get along. Now, something had changed and if he weren't so distracted with his brother's health, he would have demanded an explanation for her behaviour. The two rogues offered to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity and Hadrian noticed that Zevran's honey brown eyes lingered longer than what was deemed friendly on Fergus' face before snapping back to his.
"I am glad to see him better now. Humans are not meant to be green in the face like he was a day ago," was all the elf said before striding out of the room, humming to himself.
With everybody out of the room, Hadrian finally let his guard down and the image of his brother lying so still in that large bed blurred. He brought a hand to his eye and was shocked to feel the wetness on his fingers.
"Hey," came a gentle whisper in his ear and a pair of familiar hands turned him round, only for Hadrian to be pulled against the cool chestplate. Strong arms wrapped around his smaller form and Hadrian buried himself against Alistair's throat, finding the man's scent warm and comforting.
The two men didn't talk but words were unnecessary in this case and they spent this moment in quiet contemplation, undisturbed by the guards of Redcliffe Castle and anything else that occurred in the Arl's establishment.
-o0o-
"So, it is strange how the culprit died suddenly, without giving any information on the mastermind behind all of this," Leliana said as she walked with Zevran out in the hallway. The redhead watched how carefully the elf took stock of his surroundings. The servants were amiss and it was just the two of them patrolling the long hallway. Many empty rooms lead out to this entryway but there was only exit to the floors below this one. It was an observation that relaxed the elf a little bit for the single entrance made it easier for the rogues to keep an eye out for any suspicious people.
"I never said he died, my dear redhead," Zevran replied with a little laugh.
"But you said you dealt with him, yes?" Leliana adjusted the large bow to where it wouldn't constantly jab into the back of her left calf.
"Dealt, not killed."
"So, you let him go? I can't imagine that you would let someone like that go free. Not without collateral."
"Oh believe me. It was well worth it. Trust me that he wouldn't be talking to anyone."
"I see," Leliana paused for a moment, her head bowed in thought. Then she looked to Zevran, a serious look on her face. "So who gave the order?"
"The one who hired me," Zevran's reply was simple but troublesome.
Leliana's green eyes narrowed at the implication and the redhead realized that this quest may have gotten a lot more complicated. She could only hope that Alistair would be there with Hadrian during the dark times ahead of them.
"So, how about the handsome man in bed, hmm?" She pointed out and it delighted the archer that her comment earned her a faint blush tainting the elf's cheeks. Zevran's head ducked, his eyes clearly avoiding hers.
"I know you feel something for him," Leliana continued. "But I would advise against jumping his bones. Losing a family and then not knowing about it until now, it must be terrible."
"Do not worry so much about Fergus' manhood, my dear Leliana. I may an amorous lover, but never without explicit permission."
"Hmm. If you say so, Zev," Leliana laughed, "if you say so."
The two rogues chatted for another hour or so, until they saw the two warriors walk towards them. Hadrian's stance had improved greatly, with shoulders no longer slumped forward and eyes that shone with determination and not grief over his brother's predicament.
"He's awake and asking for you, Zevran," Hadrian told the blonde elf, shaking his head in disbelief that of all the people his brother wanted to see beside him was another assassin.
"Tsk. Tsk. People never learn, do they?" Zevran asked, mirth playing in his light brown eyes. "You never ask to see an assassin."
-TBC-
A/N: Sorry, guys. I ran into writer's block towards the end of this chapter. So...any thoughts on the budding friendship between our two rogues? The growing relationship between a nobleman and an assassin? I love to hear some feedback. Thanks to everyone who posted comments and are still keeping up with this story, despite the slow updates. Night shifts are grueling.