Author's Note: Whew, so after all the battles and demons and out-and-out crazy, our intrepid heroes finally get a little time to themselves. This chapter has a bit of naughtiness in it, nothing too crazy, but I thought I'd warn you all, just in case! As always, thank you all for the reviews and for following along, you're all so great and amazing! A round of internet high fives, on me. :D
Chapter 38 - Rest and Relaxation
Redcliffe Castle was a welcome relief to Serena and her companions for the few days they spent recouping after the incident at the Circle of Magi. Although she was still recovering from her time in the Fade, Serena found spending time in the arl's study, copying his maps of Ferelden into her journal, helped stave off some of the anxiety. Between the call of the archdemon in her dreams, and the remnants of her nightmare in the Fade, she had quite enough to be getting on with, not to mention the addition of Morrigan's... family troubles.
When not in the study, Serena found herself drawn to the enormous castle kitchen. The cook there, a wonderful man named Alban, loved Serena and Alistair's tremendous Grey Warden appetites. Feeling a twinge in her stomach, Serena had headed to the kitchen only to find Leliana there, getting a snack from the kind and portly head cook. She noticed Leliana had a dress similiar in cut to her own, both borrowed from the arlessa. Infinititely grateful, the woman had offered them a multitude of beautiful Orlesian dresses to wear while the castle's staff was washing their own blood-splattered clothes.
"This is why I miss Val Royeaux," Leliana said, tapping a delicate shoe on the kitchen stool. Serena sat down next to her at the large kitchen table and the cook grinned, already preparing something for her. "Surely you must have had some beautiful shoes back in Highever? One can't mingle with nobility with bad shoes."
"Oh, yes," Serena sighed. "It felt like I had a pair for every day of the week. Plus dancing shoes, of course." She glanced down at her knee boots, the only pair of footwear she'd been able to take from her home, and then only because she happened to be wearing them at the time. The delicate lace hemline of her borrowed frock touched just above her knee as she sat. "These do alright, I suppose. Although I wish we didn't traipse through so much mud, I would wear the ribbons that run through the side stitching here. It dresses them up quite a bit." She smiled as Alban placed a plate of food in front of her.
"Yes, those clunky fur-lined Ferelden boots are certainly... sturdy," Leliana relented. "But sometimes a girl just wants to have pretty feet." She picked at one of the pickle chips on her plate, bitting into it delicately. "You know, since we are headed to Denerim, there is a marvelous shop in the Market District- Madam Lendorin's- she sells the most fantastic shoes..." Leliana sighed dreamily. "She might even carry some boots, maybe with ribbons or ties."
Serena clapped her hands happily. This was why she loved Leliana; the bard had an uncanny ability to make Serena always forget the stress of her Grey Warden responsibilities. "Oh, that would be wonderful. It's been ages since I've been in Denerim to shop, I went once with my mother and she bought me the most beautiful dress, little flowers the exact color of my eyes..." She turned her head at the sound of footsteps.
"Wynne! Did you want a sandwich or something? Alban here is magnificent, he can make anything, I'm convinced." Serena grinned at the cook, popping another baby carrot in her mouth.
"No, no, that's quite all right, I didn't come here to eat," Wynne replied, smiling softly to both the young women. She settled into a seat at the table across from them, her hands folded gently in front of her. "I actually had a few questions for you, Serena."
"Oh?" Serena exchanged quick looks with Leliana. "What about?"
"I've simply noticed... you and Alistair... you're... quite taken with each other, aren't you?"
Wiser than Serena, Leliana quickly picked up her plate and scrambled out of her chair. "I just remembered, I promised Zevran I would... help him. With his shoes. Excuse me." With a sympathetic look to Serena, the bard practically ran out of the kitchen.
"I... you know about me and Alistair?" Serena said carefully.
Wynne chuckled. "It's hard not to notice the doe-eyed looks he gives you, especially when he thinks no one's watching. It's almost too sweet for my tastes, and I'm an old lady who should be making lace hearts and fuzzy blankets with animal motifs."
"I don't think you're really that kind of old lady, Wynne," Serena replied with a wink.
"No, I won't be making socks with pom-poms for you anytime soon, but that's hardly my point." Wynne pursed her lips; her ice blue eyes earnest. "I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going."
"I... don't know," Serena admitted. "I haven't really discussed it with him at any length. We both sort of... agreed... whatever happens, happens. The Blight, and now Arl Eamon, those are what really matter, anyway."
"Well, Alistair is a fine lad, skilled in battle, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt." Wynne tapped the table delicately.
"What about me?" Serena frowned. "You're not concerned about me getting hurt? He's a prince, you know, Maric's only surviving son. If anyone is in a position to be devastated here, it's me... Do you really think I haven't thought about what that could eventually mean?"
"I am aware of his parentage from Bann Teagan. I simply mean you are both Grey Wardens, and he is the son of a king. You have responsibilities that supersede your personal desires. The fate of Ferelden may rest of your shoulders..."
"Yes, well, that would be true if I were some sort of an automaton, rather than a human being..." Serena rolled her eyes, looking down at her plate in distaste. She noticed Alban had disappeared as well, so it was just her and Wynne. Fantastic. "I have emotions, we have emotions... We're not just Grey Wardens, we're... we're people. I... I think you're making things sound more dire than it is."
"The entire Blight depends on you two. You are the last two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden... You may be forced to choose, between saving him and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"
"Alistair is… No, I can... I can save everyone, then," Serena pouted. She knew she was being childish, and Wynne's motherly tone did nothing to improve it. "I mean, what am I supposed to do? Tell Alistair to go away? I can't do that!"
Wynne frowned. "You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on."
"No," Serena said firmly. "Absolutely not."
"A bit of hurt feelings now will save you a lot of heartache down the road," Wynne reiterated. "If you've honestly thought about what his future could be, then why do you continue this?"
"Because I love him!" Serena hadn't meant to just blurt it out in a rush, but now that she had, she realized the truth behind her words. "I love him so much, Wynne. Some days, he's... he's the only thing that keeps me going." Serena felt a tear slip down her cheek and she angrily wiped it away. "I need him."
"Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person. This is exactly what I..." The older mage sighed; as if she knew what she said would do no good. "A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish, Serena. Surely you see the truth in what I'm saying."
Serena frowned, picking at the contents of her plate, her appetite all but disappeared.
"I know you think I'm young, that... that we're both young. But I can handle my responsibilities and my relationships, Wynne. I... I know what's at stake here." Serena glared at the mage, her blue eyes a mixture of anger and resentment. "I refuse to give up my one source of comfort when it feels like the entire world is crumbling at our feet."
Wynne shrugged, frowning. "I have given my advice. Do with it what you will."
Without another word, Serena picked up her plate and left the room, and Wynne, behind.
Serena stomped her way through the halls of Redcliffe castle, nearly incensed at the nerve of Wynne's questioning of her relationship. Her words had struck a chord inside Serena, and she wished she had been able to articulate better her feelings for Alistair, how they made a better team together. Apart, she would just be another bumbling nobody... or even worse, dead with all the others at Ostagar...
"She's lived in that bloody tower her whole life probably," Serena grumbled angrily. "The Maker only knows what kind of relationship advice she should be expounding upon people- ooof!"
Serena turned the corner and collided hard with the man, falling back onto her bottom with a small whimper. "Oh, oww... I'm... so sorry, I wasn't even watching-" She looked up into Alistair's kind hazel eyes and flushed. Of course she would run into him directly after... that. "Hi."
"Hi." Alistair kneeled down beside her, pulling the plate from her hand. He brushed the bits of food off her, offering her a hand up. "I thought I heard your voice around the corner... I just didn't realize you'd be right there. Is your... are you okay?"
Serena sighed, straightening out her dress. "It's my fault, I wasn't paying attention."
Alistair looked down at the bits of what was formerly Serena's snack. "I could make you a new... whatever this was, if you'd like? The kitchen's just over-"
"No! No, it's... it's fine. I'm not hungry!" Serena lowered her voice. "Wynne is probably still in there."
Alistair arched an eyebrow. "Did she do something?"
"I... well... she didn't do anything so much as said... lots of things." Serena felt her face redden as she nervously tugged at her braid.
"I see," Alistair replied with a knowing nod. "You got the talk, too, then?" He sighed. "She ambushed me last night. I was... well, I was going to see you, actually..." Alistair blushed, his eyes suddenly finding the hallway wallpaper infinitely interesting. "She just appeared out of nowhere, asking all these questions... about you and me..."
Serena rocked anxiously on her heels, her nerves getting the better of her. "And what did you say?"
"What did you say?"
"I... may have blurted out some... things," Serena said elusively. She glanced up at Alistair's face. "So... why were you coming to see me?"
"Oh, you're going to laugh." Alistair blushed again, and Serena could feel the knot in her stomach loosen at his bashfulness.
"After that talk with Wynne, I could use a laugh." Serena tugged him into a room she was pretty sure was the guest room he was staying in. The familiar scent of pine confirmed it, and Serena plunked down onto his unmade bed, her frilly dress splayed out around her.
"You know, I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of seeing you in a proper dress until last night at dinner." Alistair set the plate down on his dresser and settled next to Serena on the bed.
"Oh, Lady Isolde let us borrow some of her old things while we're here. She's having our clothes cleaned and mended." Serena ran a hand over the smooth fabric. "I haven't really had the chance to dress up at all since we've been on the road so much. It's not very practical, I suppose... Do... do you like it?"
"You're breathtaking," Alistair answered, his eyes flicking up to hers after following along the neckline of the dress. "Of course, I'm a bit biased... I'd find you gorgeous in a potato sack."
Serena felt a rush of pleasure color her cheeks at the compliment. This was her Alistair, the slightly awkward but infinitely adorable man she had grown to love over the past weeks. Perhaps all she needed was to spend more time with him, alone, to rid the surviving images of that demonic version...
"You don't look half bad, either, outside your armor." Serena fingered the brass buttons on the elegant tunic he wore, not quite ready to look into his steady hazel eyes. "Who knew you cleaned up so well?"
"Let me tell you, having a proper bathroom, and a mirror to shave in…" Alistair sighed happily. "I'll be utterly depressed to go back to shaving my face in some river, praying to the Maker I don't slice open my own throat."
"I knew there was something different," Serena said, stroking his cheek gently. His skin was smooth to the touch and she found herself longing to kiss it. "So... what did you tell her?"
"Hmm?" Alistair blinked. "Oh, Wynne? Ah. Well, she said as a Grey Warden I should be focused on the Blight, not what type of nightgown you wore to bed."
Serena giggled. "Is that why you were coming to see me at night?"
"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid." Alistair smiled. "You just looked so lovely at dinner in that greenish dress with all the lacing... I was curious if that extended to your nightgown as well."
Serena arched an eyebrow. "Who said I even wear a nightgown to bed?"
"Oh...?" Alistair flushed, but Serena could see his determination to continue this line of thought. "And what do you wear to bed, my lady?"
"Aw, that would be telling." Serena leaned close, whispering in his ear. She ran her hand through his dark blonde hair, savoring the soft feel of it against her fingers. He smelled so good, and looked even better... "You'll just have to come and find out sometime, no?"
"Is that an invitation?" Alistair caught her chin, his lips dangerously close to hers. Serena felt her stomach flutter with anticipation.
"Oh, let's just say I have an open door policy when it comes to handsome princes." Serena pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt him pull her onto his lap, his hands running up her bare thighs, as he kissed her back. At last they pulled apart, both flushed from the lack of oxygen.
"I told her no," Alistair said, his arms around her hips as he looked steadily into her blue eyes. "That after everything we've been through... we deserve a bit of happiness." He paused; his hazel eyes had the same passionate look he got when he was being absolutely serious with her. "What did you say?"
"My relationship with you is... separate from any responsibilities we have to the Grey Wardens." Serena kissed his nose lightly. "I'm a better fighter, a stronger person, with you in my life. Why would I just give that up? Why should I?" She traced the line of his jaw with one finger. "You smell delicious, by the way."
"You taste delicious," Alistair replied, pulling her in for another kiss. His hand was snaking its way back up her thigh as they kissed, both completely lost in the pleasure of the moment as a quick series of knocks came from the door.
Alistair groaned. "Ignore it," he whispered against her lips. "They'll go away."
"What if it's important?" Serena whispered back, kissing his ear and down his neck.
"It can't be very important, its nearly dinner..." Alistair groaned again, this time for a very different reason. "Serena..."
"Hmm? Too much?" Serena shifted on his lap, pressing against him harder. "Is this better?"
"Sweet Maker, you're evil," he whispered to her, picking her up and flipping her over onto his bed.
Serena stretched out, knowing how good her body looked in the tight dress. "I think you like bad girls, your highness." She pulled him down on top of her, enjoying the pressure his weight put on her own body as they sunk into the mattress slightly. "It must be your chantry education." She kissed his lips, pressing his hands on her body. "It makes you crave the wicked."
"Oh... You do horrible things to me, woman." Alistair's voice was almost a growl in her ear as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. "I love it." He pulled the shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. Leaning down, he kissed her passionately into the mess of sheets, their bodies naturally finding the perfect rhythm. "We could..."
A second knock, louder and more insistent this time sounded on the wooden door. "Ser? Are you there?"
Serena scowled, sliding out from under Alistair. "I'll take care of this." She flicked at her dress, not really caring what she looked like at the moment, and marched to the door, throwing it open.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice sulky.
One of the arlessa's maids stood at the door, a large bundle of clothing in her hands. Her small brown eyes took in Serena and she frowned. "I... I was t-told this was Ser Alistair's room," she stuttered.
"Yes, it is." Serena smiled at the maid, holding the door open a little wider so Alistair was just visible, hoping her meaning was clear. "Did you need something?"
"No, my lady, I simply came to deliver his pressed wash. I, uh..."
"Oh, excellent. I'll take those from you," Serena said happily. The maid all but tossed the clothes into her waiting hands.
"The arlessa says dinner will be ready within the hour..." The maid peered in the doorway finally and saw Alistair shirtless on the bed, her face blushing a deep crimson. "I... oh, I apologize, my lady. I had no idea."
"Yes, well... next time we'll put a sign on the door or something more obvious." Serena grinned. "Thank you for delivering these, anyway."
The maid nodded quickly, her face still scarlet, and scurried away down the hall in a rush.
Serena turned back into the room, shutting the door with her foot. "Well, you'll be pleased to know we were so cruelly interrupted because of an urgent need to deliver some laundry." She tossed the bundle onto the dresser and climbed back up onto the bed. "Oh, and dinner will be ready in…" She checked the clock on the wall and rolled her eyes. "Fifteen minutes. Fantastic."
Alistair cursed, leaning his head back on the pillows. "Why? Why is it always something? I swear, every time I get a single second alone with you, someone has to come along with some stupid..." He sighed, cutting himself off. "It's just not fair."
"No, it's not." Serena curled up next to him, her fingers making little spirals on his bare chest. The Grey Warden pendent on his chest reflected softly in the light coming from his bedside lantern. "This is nice, too, though."
"Yes..." Alistair ran his hand up to hers, intertwining their fingers. "We leave for Denerim tomorrow, right?"
"Bright and early, I'm afraid, in case you were thinking of staying up late..." Serena snuggled against him, the buzzing in her blood making her feel lazy and relaxed. "Why?"
"We haven't really discussed it, but I was wondering... you know when we were trapped in the Fade?"
Serena stiffened. "I... yes. W-what a-about it?"
"I know that wasn't really my sister, err, half-sister, but it got me thinking and I was hoping we could... maybe... visit her? I looked it up awhile ago, she lives in Denerim, near the Market District."
Serena sighed in relief. She had thought he was going to ask her about her nightmare... she still hadn't had the courage to tell him anything about it. "Oh, of course. I'm sure we can make time to find her." Serena squeezed his hand reassuringly.
"I'd love it if you'd come with me," Alistair said quietly. She could feel his heartbeat quicken under their clasped hands. "I've never... actually... met her before."
"Oh! Right." Serena turned on her side, giving him a soft kiss. "I'd love to meet her."
Alistair grinned at her, relief etched into his features. "...Have I told you how amazing you are?"
"Not today," Serena murmured. Alistair pulled her onto his lap and she giggled, pressing a finger to his waiting lips. "I don't want to start something we can't finish, my prince."
Alistair pouted, his lips kissing the tips of her fingers. "I know... you're right..." He groaned, pushing himself up so her legs straddled around his waist. "It doesn't mean I have to like it, though."
Serena nuzzled his neck, wishing that maid had never knocked on the door. "I can think of something you will like," Serena whispered, kissing just below his ear. "Since we only have a few minutes..." She pushed him back down into the pillows and grinned.
Dinner that evening was a quieter affair than the night before, with Serena and her companions requesting to eat in a side room, so as not to disturb the normal activities of the castle, since they would be leaving so soon. Serena glanced around at the group they'd accumulated, each person at the table bringing their own individual strengths to the party.
Leliana was telling a story to Wynne, her graceful hands gesturing excitedly as she spoke. Before dinner, Wynne had apologized to Serena for upsetting her earlier, although not for her opinions on the matter, and since Wynne had seemed sincere in her want to support her, Serena let it slide, giving the older woman a hug.
Morrigan spoke to Sten down at the other end of the table, her golden eyes wide and almost flirtatious. Serena found herself desperately wishing she could make out what they were discussing, if only to tease the mage later on for it. Serena thought it almost ironic that the dark haired witch seemed most at ease around the one companion she had yet to really warm up to. Sten's imposing figure aside, he was just not easy to get to know. She wondered if it was a qunari thing, or just his own personality that made him stand apart from the rest.
Serena sat beside Alistair, as usual. Like her de facto appointment to leader of their little band, her companions also left a space next to Alistair for her to sit, no matter where they happened to be. Zevran sat on her other side at the head of the table, half-heartedly listening to Leliana's tale of an Orlesian knight named Aveline. Below her, Peanut was curled up in a ball under the table, waiting for scraps and occasionally pawing Serena's foot for attention.
"So, Serena, I ran into something interesting this evening whilst strolling the castle." Zevran cut into his roasted chicken carefully, and Serena found herself surprised at the assassin's impeccable manners. "Well, more of a someone, actually."
"Oh, really? Who?" Serena paused, curious what he could be talking about.
"A maid, actually." Serena saw Zevran eye her and she willed her face to not go red.
"Ah, yes. Brown hair, brown eyes? I met her." Serena smirked, glancing at Alistair. "Briefly."
"I wonder what you may have done to frighten the girl so thoroughly." Zevran grinned at her, his amber eyes flicking between Serena and Alistair. "She is really quite lucky she ran into me. I am well-versed in the art of... soothing women."
"I bet," Alistair said. "Sounds like we did you a favor then, Zevran."
"Ah, so there was a 'we' involved then? She had babbled about upsetting a young lady and her half naked man slave."
"Man slave? She didn't really say that, did she?" Serena giggled. "It's her own fault, you know. Obviously if someone is disinclined to answer a door, it's for good reason. I mean, how thick can you be?" Serena shook her head sadly. "And over laundry, of all things."
"I can only imagine what her innocent eyes saw," Zevran intoned gravely. "Granted, it was probably nothing compared to what she ended up doing with me..." He grinned, and Serena found herself shaking silently with laughter. "Ah, it's these country girls, I tell you. You'd think they had never met a good-looking assassin before... They practically throw themselves at me."
"You are a menace," Serena giggled, her cheeks red from laughing. "It's a good thing we're leaving in the morning, before you have half the castle's staff with child."
"I know, I am terrible," Zevran replied with a laugh. "We are heading to the capital, yes? I had heard from our beautiful bard here that one of the Grey Warden treaties you two are seeking is with the Dalish elves. Have you thought about possibly contacting them on the way? Your Imperial Highway should pass the Brecilian Forest on our way to Denerim."
"That's... a really good idea, actually," Serena said thoughtfully. She glanced down the table at the huge qunari. "I know some people would be pleased we were doing something related to the Blight, instead of... what did Morrigan call it?"
"Hunting for the location of a religious nutcase," Alistair supplied, jamming his fork into his potatoes. "Of course, she'd be the authority on mad people, considering her mother lives in the bloody swamp and all..." Down the table Morrigan raised an eyebrow at him, as if daring him to speak to her directly. Serena placed a hand on his, cutting off Alistair's retort.
"So, I think I was saying that was a good idea," Serena said, rolling her eyes. "I don't really know how to go about contacting them, though. They're... nomads, for the most part, right?"
Zevran grinned. "Oh, I imagine if we wander close enough, their hunters will find us, surely."
"Then we'll just make a little side trip into the forest, get a quick signature from their..." She turned to Zevran. "Do you know much about elven culture? I don't think I know what they call their leaders?"
"I know little enough of the Dalish than the fact that my mother was one," Zevran replied. "Or so I was told. She had fallen in love with a woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And there, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."
"Oh my goodness, that's horrible!" Serena exclaimed.
"Is it? It seemed normal enough a tale growing up, no different than the other elven boys in the whorehouse." Zevran shrugged. "I didn't know my mother, either, of course. She died giving birth to me. My first victim, as it were." Serena felt her jaw drop at his statement. "We were all raised communally by the whores. It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating, until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I hear."
"I... I don't understand how you can be so... so... blasé about it," Serena replied. "Maker..." She felt Alistair squeeze her leg comfortingly under the table.
"Surely your life has not been so idyllic? People like us are not the product of happy lives of contentment, after all." Zevran popped a biscuit in his mouth, as if they were discussing inclement weather conditions. Serena found herself wishing she could compartmentalize her emotions half as well as the assassin appeared to. "I know of Alistair and Leliana's parentage, but what of you, sweet lady Warden?"
"You don't need to answer that, Serena," Alistair said quietly.
"No, it's… okay. He has the right to know." Serena frowned, shaking her head. "I'm originally from Highever. My parents were... murdered, a few weeks ago, by a rival noble family... along with the rest of my family and the castle staff. I was the only one able to escape the carnage. The Warden-Commander, Duncan, helped me get out, and in return for his kindness, I became a Grey Warden." Serena pushed her food around on her plate, she could feel some of her other companions eyes on her, and heard Wynne gasp softly. Despite the pang in her chest at the mention of her family and former home, it felt good to lay it all out on the table. "So... I guess you're right... we're all just a delightful bunch of orphans and cast offs."
Serena shrugged, determined to not dip back into a sour mood after all that befell them at the tower. "Well, goodness. This dinner turned depressing, didn't it? Whose up for a round or five of Wicked Grace before bed?"
"Since you are so good at it, Serena, might I suggest we play for clothing tonight?" Zevran asked innocently. One thing she found infinitely refreshing about the assassin was his ability to make light of a dour situation. She found herself grinning at the elf and Alistair.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" said Alistair with a laugh.
"Oh, I imagine you'd like it, too, my friend," Zevran replied, winking an amber eye at Alistair. "So, what do you say? What is a little bare skin between friends? Perhaps it will even improve your game, since I doubt you want to play naked, no?"
"What if we played two on two, then?" Leliana said, joining their conversation as one of the kitchen attendants came in to clear their plates. Serena noticed Wynne and the others were scooting their chairs out to leave. "I will play with Serena, so she at least has a fighting chance of keeping some clothing on."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Leli," Serena replied, rolling her eyes again. "Am I really that bad?"
"Yes," all three of her companions responded in unison.
Serena sighed. "Maybe I should go get a hat or scarf too, then..."