Chapter Eleven: Hawke Cottage

"Maker's breath," sighed Alistair as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the soreness from those muscles. "I never realized picking vegetables and bundling straw could take so much energy."

Fergus laughed as he handed him a mug of water. "This is how Yvaine and I used to spend most of our summers growing up. When our parents couldn't stand being around us any longer, they'd load us up in the carriage and send us here, to be Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Leandra's problem."

"You two were never a problem," said Leandra as she mixed the stew. "If anything, you made the summers more bearable, I was always glad whenever you two came to Lothering. The five of you were so cute, playing knights in the field, helping your uncle craft in his workshop, bringing in armfuls of blackberries."

"Speaking of blackberries, did you make any of those amazing blackberry tarts? Or a pie, perhaps?" asked Fergus hopefully.

Leandra chuckled. "I might have made something resembling tarts, if I did, they're for after supper."

Fergus heavily sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring miserably at his half empty mug. "Fine, I guess I can wait that long. What are you making for supper, Aunt Leandra?"

"Lentil stew with wild herbs and roast chicken, if Carver ever finishes plucking them," said Leandra, eyeing her only son carefully.

"Mother, I'm doing the best I can, isn't this normally Thea's job?" whined Carver as he pulled handful after handful of feathers off of the dead chicken on the counter.

"Yes, but she's in town with your cousin and sister," sighed Leandra. "If you're having that much trouble, maybe you should have Fergus take over, he was always a great chicken cleaner."

Carver shot a nasty glare in his cousin's direction before resuming his duty with a renewed vigor, not about to let his older cousin prove himself better than he was. "Don't worry, Mother, I'll have it done before the girls return."

"Speaking of the girls," said Alistair, glancing out the window. "It's almost sundown, where are they?"

"I knew the quiet couldn't last forever," muttered Carver as he stuffed another handful of feathers into a pillow case.

Fergus flicked a small stone at his cousin, hitting him directly on the back of the neck, he and Alistair were both trying not to laugh at the look on Carver's face when it hit him. They glanced over and saw even Leandra was trying not to laugh at her son's plight, which made it even harder for the others to resist the urge. Suddenly they heard dogs barking and they knew the others had returned.

"Sounds like the girls are back," said Leandra as she pulled a loaf of fresh bread out of the oven and set it on the counter.

They barely had time to get up from the table when the door flew open and Yvaine stumbled inside with Amalthea on her heels, they were soon followed by Bethany, Morrigan, Leliana and then finally the Qunari entered silently. Alistair's eyes were on Yvaine the moment she entered but she did not notice, she had looked away and when she looked back she thought he was looking at Bethany, making her even angrier than she already was.

"What in Maker's name . . . ?" started Fergus when he saw the Qunari glaring at the others. "Yvaine, who's your new friend?"

"Oh him?" asked Yvaine, vaguely indicating the Qunari as she poured herself a glass of water. "I think he said his name's Sten, is that right?"

"Yes," said Sten, nodding his massive head curtly.

"Man of many words it seems," commented Alistair. "So, how was town, ladies?"

"Wonderful," said Amalthea cheerfully as she handed a small bag to her mother. "As you can see, we made several friends. You already met Sten, and the young lady with the red hair is Leliana."

"Hello," said Leliana kindly, her blue eyes sparkling when she saw Fergus. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. Yvaine's told me a great deal about you all."

"All good, I hope," teased Alistair, trying to catch Yvaine's eye though she was actively avoiding him.

Morrigan snickered. "Don't worry, Alistair, we left out some of your more . . . colorful attributes."

Alistair turned a bright red color. "I'm going to ignore you and hope you go away."

"'Tis a sound plan," sighed Morrigan, rolling her eyes as she moved closer to Carver.

"What happened while you were in town?" asked Fergus, smiling kindly at Leliana. "How'd you meet your new friends?"

Amalthea looked at Yvaine. "It's really Yvaine's place to tell you, I was just along for the ride."

Yvaine sipped her water slowly, very much aware that everyone on the room was watching her now. "Let's see, we dealt with some bandits, which was where we got the horses. Then we went to the tavern where we met Leliana . . . after we were attacked by Loghain's men, after that . . ." She stopped talking when she heard glass breaking, everyone turned to see Alistair standing there with a nasty look on his face and broken glass in his hands.

"Loghain's men were here? In Lothering?!" exclaimed Alistair, pushing himself so he was beside Yvaine, his eyes filled with anger and worry.

Yvaine stared calmly back at him. "Isn't that what I just said? Don't worry, Alistair, Bethany wasn't hurt." She pressed on before anyone could give a reaction. "Anyway, after the fight that's when we were introduced to Leli, and then she directed us to Sten. Oh, and Morrigan and Bethany met the two most charming dwarves in all of Thedas, they're outside right now looking after our horses."

"Didn't you invite them inside?" asked Leandra as she put one of the de-feathered chickens on the roasting spit.

Yvaine nodded. "Of course I did, Aunt Leandra, but they insisted on staying with their wares. Well, Bodhan did, Sandal just said enchantment."

"Sounds like an interesting pair," chuckled Fergus, glancing warily at the large and creepily silent Qunari in the room. "How much longer until supper's ready?"

Leandra glanced up. "If Carver finishes that last chicken in the next few minutes, we should be eating just a little after sundown. Please, everyone make yourself at home."

Most took their seats around the fireplace, Fergus close to Leliana, Bethany sat close to Alistair whom was trying to get closer to Yvaine, Amalthea sat between her and Alistair to keep the peace. Morrigan had slunk back to the kitchen to stand with Carver, helping him de-feather the rest of the chicken, Sten stayed close to the door keeping an eye on each member of the party. They all started talking at once, asking Leliana questions who in turn asked them some, they were all trying to get Sten to say more than a couple of words but without much success. Eventually supper was ready and Leandra passed out several bowls full of stew with pieces of chicken in each one, even Sten accepted her food, nodding his thanks as he drank it straight from the bowl.

"Tell me more about this attack from Loghain's men," said Alistair sometime later, between spoonfuls of stew.

Yvaine shrugged as she ate a piece of chicken. "I told you everything that'd matter to you, Alistair. If you're interested, I did find the description Loghain had given them so they could find us, why they didn't ask about you though I don't know."

She handed him the piece of parchment that had Loghain's signature at the bottom, Alistair resisted the urge to shred the paper, instead focusing on reading it. "Keep an eye out for a tall man of medium build, blond hair and brown eyes, looks as if constantly lost in thought. Hmph, that's a nice way of saying I look like a moron."

"Seems that is your most defining feature," quipped Morrigan from the kitchen, eliciting a laugh from Carver.

Alistair scowled and pressed on. "Accompanying him should be a woman of unusually tall height, scrawny limbs, light brown eyes and almost white colored hair. Bounty of a hundred sovereigns per head if brought in dead or alive."

Yvaine fought back tears, it was hard to hear her appearance summed up like that especially when she had been told all her life she was a very beautiful woman. 'I shouldn't be surprised,' she thought bitterly as she cast a dark glare at Bethany whom had moved closer to Alistair. 'There's no way I'm as pretty as Bethany.' She looked at he cousin, she had dark black hair that fell into gentle ringlets, sparkling brown eyes so dark they were almost black, her skin was nice and tanned not to mention she had an incredible figure. Then she looked at herself, she had plain light brown eyes, wheat colored hair that seemed lifeless compared to her cousin's, her skin looked sickly she was so pale, and whatever figure she had she could not see under her armor.

"No wonder they were so hard pressed to get you, Yvaine," said Leliana, bringing Yvaine from her thoughts. "A hundred sovereign bounty would certainly be hard to resist."

"I'm glad you weren't there, Alistair," said Bethany sweetly, as she rested her hand on his shoulder. "It would have been a terrible thing if you were taken." Alistair gave a nervous laugh as he tried to escape her touch, only to run into Amalthea in the process.

"Oh, don't mind me," sneered Yvaine, the bowl in her hands shaking as she tried to fight the rage in her heart. "I'm just the Warden that was actually attacked." They all looked at her, even Sten appeared mildly curious as to why her attitude had suddenly changed from calm to annoyed in nothing flat. She got to her feet and handed her bowl of half eaten stew to her aunt.

"I'm going to bed," she said, focusing only on Leandra. "Is it alright if I sleep in Beth and Mal's room?"

"That's quite alright, Yvaine," said Leandra gently. "Are you sure you want to go to bed so soon? I'm keeping some blackberry tarts warm, I know they're your favorite."

Her stomach grumbled and her mouth watered, as much as she wanted to stay and have some dessert, she could not stand being around Bethany and Alistair. "No, I'm fine, thank you, Aunt Leandra. I'll have them for breakfast tomorrow." She quickly left the room and went into her cousins' bedroom, she closed the door and only when it was closed did she allow her tears to fall. She knew it had been foolish to fall for Alistair, what was even worse was she had allowed herself to hope that he felt the same about her, who would possibly want her when Bethany was around? She went over to the dresser and pulled out one of Amalthea's nightshifts, she discarded her armor and changed into the thin material gown, trying to cover up her body as quickly as possible. 'Scrawny limbs . . . unusually tall height . . . ' Loghain's description of her echoed in her head like a mantra, she climbed into bed listening to those words, and fell asleep with their echo.

Yvaine found herself standing on a familiar looking cliff, one that had been in Highever close to her family's home. The familiar scent of Highever's fields hitting her nose with such strength there was no mistaking that she was indeed there. She looked out at the glistening waters of Lake Calenhad, the wind creating gentle waves over the glassy surface, the clouds above were drifting lazily above as the sun warmed her skin.

'Yvaine,' called a familiar voice. She turned around and saw her mother standing close by. She looked as regal as ever, her greying hair wrapped up in an intricate braid around her head, her violet eyes shimmering in the sunlight, her willowy limbs contained in a flowing gown of pale lavender.

Yvaine smiled and ran to her mother's waiting arms, laughing and smiling the whole way, she wrapped her arms around her mother's waist and felt her return the embrace. She looked up at her mother's face, expecting to see the light she had just seen to be there, instead she found them glazed over. To her horror, her mother's body fell against her, and she put her on the ground still unable to comprehend the fact her mother was dead. She glanced at herself and discovered she was covered in blood, she wanted to scream but not a sound escaped her lips, she felt the wind whip around her in a frenzy and she turned to see the sky had turned green and the ground was black. From underneath the cliff a large dragon flew up into the sky, the force from it's wings as they beat together sent Yvaine to the ground, she looked up and covered her ears as it roared.

"No!" shouted Yvaine. She woke up instantly, feeling something like a solid wall pressed up against her. She tried to turn over only to feel herself trapped in a mess of sheets and what felt like arms wrapped around her, now this was startling, she did not like the feeling of being held down. She struggled against whomever was holding her down, trying to break free from their grip.

"Calm down, woman," grunted Alistair and she instantly froze. "There's no need to fight me."

"What're you doing here?" she whispered. "Where's Mal and Beth?"

"Sleeping in the room next door with Morrigan and Leliana," replied Alistair groggily as he struggled to sit up. "They had decided it'd be best not to wake you when they went to bed, so Carver gave up his room for them."

"What are you doing here?" she repeated, not really listening to what he had said earlier, her mind still focused on her dream and the fact he was here in bed with her.

Alistair sighed and released her from his hold. "I had a feeling you'd have a nightmare tonight, so I stayed awake until I heard you thrashing about in here."

"That still doesn't explain why you're in bed with me," she said quietly, pulling the blankets over herself, not wanting him to see her.

Even in the moonlight she could still the blush creep into his cheeks. "I . . . I wasn't sure how your nightmare would effect you, so I climbed in here to hold you in case you woke up crying or screaming. I didn't want you to be alone. . . Maker, I sound like a fool." He moved to leave only Yvaine reached out her hand and rested it on his shoulder, her touch he did not try to get away from as he had Bethany's.

She shook her head. "You're not a fool, Alistair, a little bold perhaps but not a fool." He visibly relaxed at her words, a small smile on his lips. She so desperately wanted to kiss him but thought better of her impulse, not wanting to make matters worse in case he was trying to woo Bethany.

Alistair grinned. "Well, I'll take bold over a fool any day." He noticed that her hand was still on his shoulder, the heat from it warming him to the core, he hoped she would not get the sense to move it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Yvaine sighed heavily, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "I'm not sure, I wouldn't want to burden you with my dreams when I'm sure you have much more on your mind."

"Andraste was the martyr not you, Yvaine," sighed Alistair, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Tell me what you dreamt, I might be able to interpret it for you, I'm usually pretty accurate unless it involves cheese and then I get all distracted."

"There wasn't any cheese in my dream," giggled Yvaine, leaning in closer to Alistair. "I had another archdemon nightmare . . . though this one wasn't like the others, this one was a little more personal." She paused and looked up at him, he nodded encouragingly for her to continue. "I was back in Highever, on a cliff I used to spend a lot of time at, I heard my mother calling me. When I turned around she was there, smiling and as beautiful as ever, we embraced and for a moment I thought it was all real . . . until she turned into a corpse and I was covered in her blood." Yvaine paused again, taking a shaky breath, the image of her mother's dead body still swimming before her eyes. "That's when the archdemon showed up and Highever turned into a wasteland."

Alistair pulled her close, unsure whether she was trembling from the cold or from fear. "Don't worry, Yvaine, you'll soon learn how to block them out."

"You have them, too?" asked Yvaine softly.

He nodded. "All Grey Wardens do, at first it's almost every night but most learn to block them out after having them for so long, at least until they start to hear the Calling. Then the dreams come back with a vengeance. Duncan said he was starting to have the dreams again . . . and that it wouldn't be long before he went to Orzammar."

"What's the Calling?" she asked.

"Oh that's right, Duncan forgot to tell you," said Alistair then he sighed. "Well, along with the many wonderful things that come with being a Grey Warden, you never have to worry about dying from old age. You've got thirty years, give or take." He looked down at her, instantly regretting telling her but he knew he had to, it would have been cruel to let her go on thinking otherwise. "The taint . . . it's a death sentence. Grey Wardens might be able to master the taint initially but after a while, it'll win out and that's what the Calling is, and most Wardens go to Orzammar. There they die fighting darkspawn instead of wasting away in their beds, the dwarves respect the Grey Wardens a great deal for their sacrifice. Yvaine, are you alright?"

Yvaine had gone quiet during his explanation of what being a Grey Warden entailed, then without warning she jumped up from the bed and walked over to the window. She rested herself against the window pane and gazed at the view, her mind going a million different directions all at once. "I'm fine," she whispered, mostly to herself. "I'm just thinking."

"About what?" asked Alistair, easing himself out of the bed, trying not to distract her too much.

"About what might have happened to me if I hadn't agreed to become a Grey Warden," she sighed, resting her head against the cool glass. "Maybe it would've been better if I had died in Highever with my parents . . ."

Alistair was on his feet and across the room in an instant, he was hurt and angry to say the least, and thought she was being incredibly selfish. He stood behind her, ready to make a scene but when she turned around to face him, she looked so sad and vulnerable he decided it might be best to hear her out instead of jumping to unnecessary conclusions. Standing there with her mere inches away he could not help but notice how beautiful she looked; her cream skin practically glowed in the moonlight, her light brown eyes sparkled like jewels, and in her wheat colored hair there shone a small halo. Maker, how he wanted to kiss those luscious pink lips! Alistair felt his breath catch in his throat, right now he thought that even the Maker himself would fall in love with her.

"Why would you say something like that, Yvaine?" asked Alistair quietly, trying to keep his anger in check as he waited for her response.

"It might have made this whole thing easier," said Yvaine, running her fingers through her hair. "I'm supposed to be the brave leader that makes the tough choices without regret, yet here I am wishing I was dead, and terrified of my own nightmares! How can I be a leader when I have all of these doubts?"

"Leaders have doubts, Yvaine, anyone who's read an autobiography knows that," said Alistair gently. "Dictators and tyrants are the ones who can make those tough calls without having any personal doubts or fears. As for you wishing you were dead, think about Fergus, how hurt he'd be to hear you say that."

Yvaine looked away, a sigh escaping her lips. "I did think of him, and he doesn't need me, he's a grown man and besides he has Leliana to talk to now. She can give him the comfort I can't seem to."

Alistair rolled his eyes and gave a slightly annoyed sigh. 'Is she really that blind?' "Yvaine, what makes you think your brother doesn't need you? You didn't see him when you were unconscious, he was a complete wreck without you, I didn't think he was going to make it much longer if you didn't get well soon."

"Yes, he might miss me," conceded Yvaine. "But I don't think I'm doing him any favors by staying around, every time he looks at me I feel like all I do is remind him of what he's lost. I can't bring him any comfort, only pain, Leliana can bring him out of his sorrow. It's already working, he didn't even seem upset by the attack from Loghain's men."

"You know, Yvaine, for someone so smart you can be incredibly dumb sometimes," huffed Alistair, he had indulged her pity party long enough. "Haven't you noticed that Fergus and the rest of us react to a situation based on how you do? You didn't make a huge deal out of Loghain's attack so the rest of us didn't either, we were all concerned that there might've been more to it than you weren't telling us, Maker knows I was. When you came in here upset and distressed, the rest of us were too, we weren't sure what was wrong. You set the tone for the rest of us, Yvaine, whether you realize it or not."

Yvaine looked away, suddenly very ashamed for thinking what she had been, here she was whining about her fears when she was sure Alistair was dealing with his own. "I'm sorry, Alistair, for going on like this. It's just been a life altering few days, and I'm still trying to adjust to everything. I'm glad I can confide in you."

"That's what I'm here for," said Alistair brightly, "to deliver witty one liners and keep the darkest secrets of our leader for my own use later."

She smiled and touched her hand to his cheek. "You know, we haven't spoken much about Duncan since we left the Wilds, if you want to talk about him . . . I'm here for you."

The light in his eyes dimmed at the mention of his fallen mentor, she was right, they had not spoken about him, if anything the daunting task of gathering an army to face the Blight had chased him from his thoughts. "He was like a father to me, I'll always be grateful to him for all he did for me."

"Care to tell me?" asked Yvaine softly. She went to move her hand from his cheek but he held it fast, catching her by surprise, they locked eyes for a moment before Alistair spoke again.

"Just keep in mind, this isn't a long story. You remember how I told you Arl Eamon cared for me until he married Isolde?" asked Alistair nervously. Yvaine nodded. "Well, you also know about the part where I'm a fatherless bastard and all that, so no need to carry on about it. Anyway, there were rumors going around for many years before they married that I was the arl's bastard, and they continued even after he married Isolde. You can imagine that her Orlesian pride didn't like hearing that, so one day she convinced the arl to send me away to the Chantry in Redcliffe to become a templar."

"You're a templar?" asked Yvaine, her voice hoarse as she spoke.

Alistair saw the fear in her eyes and quickly continued on. "No, no! I never took my vows, so I'm not a full blown templar. Don't worry, your cousin isn't in any danger from me, I swear on my honor."

Yvaine felt herself relax. "I'm guessing Duncan had something to do about that?"

"Great guess, I knew you were leader for a reason," chuckled Alistair, caressing the back of her hand with his fingertips. "Yes, he found me at a tournament and used the Right of Conscription to recruit me, and here I stand a proud Grey Warden. I'm not sure if he knew this, but he saved me, I hated life at the Chantry and after joining the Wardens I felt new life again."

"I think he knew, Alistair," said Yvaine leaning up and pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. She heard his breath hitch and she instantly pulled away, moving her hand from his cheek as well, afraid she had crossed some kind of unspoken boundary. "I think we should get some sleep, we have a lot to do tomorrow after all, traveling to Redcliffe and all that. Good night, Alistair, and thank you for everything."

Alistair smiled and gently put a piece of hair behind her ear. "No problem, Yvaine, just remember you can talk to me about anything even your doubts. Good night."

He was about halfway to the door when Yvaine spoke up again. "You know something, Alistair?"

"What's that?" he asked, his hand paused above the door handle.

"Loghain's description of you was way off," she said quietly.

Alistair smiled and blew her a kiss. "He was wrong about you, too. Good night, Yvaine."

Yvaine sighed after he left, immediately missing his presence, there were a few things they would have to discuss in the morning but for right now all she could think about was his touch.