This is a playful, fluffy chapter.
As always, thank you all for the reviews: mutive, Gaspode, Arsinoe de Blassenville, zevgirl, mutive. And thanks to everyone who has been alerting and favoriting this as well. You have no idea how much this means! Please review and crit. They're great fun to read! I've just got to 100 reviews! Thank you so much!
DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn
Chapter 23
Alistair awoke during the night with a start to find that Adela had moved closer to him, her body conformed closely to his. Her long blond hair curled about her head and face like a golden halo, her pink lips parted just slightly. One slender arm was tucked under her, her tiny hand cupping her chin. Her other arm was draped across her waist. He gasped a bit, realizing that her shapely bottom was pressed very snuggly against…a certain other part of his body and that part was responding quite well to the close contact of the elven woman. He moved himself a bit away from the elf, breathing slowly, thinking of anything other than the lovely woman lying next to him. That had not happened before. His body relaxed after a time and he eased closer to her again.
He was a bit confused by that. His body had never…betrayed him so obviously before.
He thought he could contribute some of that to the elven assassin's rather suggestive comments, but he didn't think that was it. He glanced down at her now peaceful face, brushing a hand across her forehead, which was now warm.
It was Roland, he realized. Seeing the Highever knight kissing Adela in a more than friendly manner had caused Alistair to contemplate his own feelings for the elven Warden. He had always been attracted to her; cared deeply for her; even loved her. But, this manner of lying next to her was far more intimate than the time in the hay loft. At that time, they just lay next to each other, talking until they fell asleep, Adela tucked next to him. Here, his purpose was to keep her warm, which meant covering as much of her body with his own. And he had discovered his body - and certain parts thereof - rather liked the close proximity. The feel of her warmth, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, so very close…
No, stop thinking that way. Relax. Think of the Revered Mother during morning sermon.
That worked.
He shook his head. This was getting far too complicated. If she and Roland were developing a relationship he had one of two choices: step aside and let them be; or make his own feelings known and fight for her.
The problem was, off the battlefield, and fighting for something he wanted was not something the young ex-Templar-to-be had any experience in. How did one fight for the woman he loved?
His breath tightened at that thought, and he found himself tugging Adela's sleeping form closer to him. Okay, so first thing was not to be embarrassed or concerned about close proximity and certain bodily reactions to that. If Roland has a problem with it, Alistair will deal with it.
Secondly, tell Adela how he feels.
Yeah, right. Been there already.
He shook his head. No, he hadn't. Adela had stumbled upon him in the Fade, his dream family surrounding him, complete with father, brother, mentor, sister, various nieces and nephews. And she had told him that she had not loved him in that manner. But that had been during a time when she was confused about her feelings for someone else (he refused to think of the man in that context). He made self-deprecating jokes, never was truly serious, always playful and ready to just back off. So, he had stepped back, waiting for her. And, in so doing, gave Roland plenty of room to swoop in (see? Swooping is bad!) and try to claim her.
Oh, that's a bad thought. Claim her like she was some prize. A rather Vaughan thing to think, eh? Adela would smack him if she knew he thought of her in that manner. So, he wouldn't.
Sighing heavily, the young man reached across and scratched his fingers through Hafter's thick, rough fur. The warhound snorted contentedly in his sleep, stretching out, but offered nothing by way of advice to the young man. Damn dog just kept sleeping.
What exactly had Roland done to get Adela's attention? Exactly what Alistair had been doing - teasing her, talking with her, being a friend…okay, perhaps Roland flirted much better than he did, but he had also revealed that he had more experience with the opposite sex. And Adela hadn't seemed particularly thrilled with that bit of information, no matter how much the knight denied it.
So, what did the knight do? Was it the way he looked at her, all noble-like, honorable, and yet still making it known that he admired her? Or was it simply that he was like the perfect knight, all red haired and green eyes, no facial stubble - ever. Or how he had called her 'Lady'…
Over thinking things, he admonished himself. He could not be like Roland, could only be Alistair. And Adela liked Alistair. He just needed her to like him more than she liked Roland.
A lot more.
Advice was what he needed. From whom?
Certainly not Zevran. The elf made him exceptionally uneasy, and not just because he had tried to kill Adela and was very new to the group. The way that man watched everyone - men and women - was as though he was trying to picture them without any clothes on. No, the lascivious elf was not one to go to, even if they knew one another better.
Niall was also out. The mage seemed as shy as Alistair himself, despite rumors about mage promiscuity. And, if those rumors were true, it was more than likely his advice would be more off the wall than anything Zevran would say.
Morrigan was a definite no. She would only taunt him and make him feel very stupid. And the Sten would only glare at him for asking.
Wynne was at Redcliffe and, as much as he loved the old gal, he felt she'd more than likely give him some kind of lecture about putting duty first before any personal feelings, wants and desires he may have.
Roland - yeah, go up to the man who was his rival and ask 'So, Roland, what exactly did you do to get Adela to be alone with you by the waterside and kiss you? Because, you know, I'd like to give it a try.' He snorted at that thought, and then froze as Adela shifted in his arms, and then turned over, facing Alistair. Her hand retucked under her chin, and her other arm was flung across Alistair's waist, her small hand twitching just slightly. He remained still until she settled down and resumed her steady breathing, once again deep in sleep. Of course, he thought with a slight mischievous grin, Roland wasn't the one laying here now with the woman who claimed his affections, now, was he?
Sure, Alistair was lying with the woman he loved, but as a friend, not a lover. Oh, he really needed help…
Leliana. Sweet, wonderful, completely bonkers Leliana. But, he knew that she would help him. Or give him some advice. Or at least tell him when he did something very stupid. Or even tell him he did not stand a chance against Roland's knightly nobility and worldliness.
Okay, he decided. He would ask Leliana's advice. And hope and pray that it was the right advice.
Now his next dilemma was now that Adela seemed to have recovered, should he remain or go back to his own tent? Glancing down at her, he decided to stay. It shouldn't matter what others thought or said; and he wasn't going to mind what Roland thought. He had known Adela far longer than any of them, and they had always been comfortable with each other's presence. Besides, it had been their idea he spend the night here. They didn't need to know that she was better.
Giving her a quick, chaste kiss on the forehead, Alistair snuggled down further, closed his eyes, and promptly fell back to sleep, Adela's warm breath teasing across his neck.
DA:O
Damn the elf for starting out of a deep sleep! Had she lain just a bit longer, silent, the poison would have had longer to work before the discovery, and the damned knife-eared wench would be dead!
The shadowy figure raced, swerving between the trees, gaining distance swiftly from the companions' campsite. No one had thought to leave the campsite to search out the elf's assailant, but the figure was not taking any chances. Leaping agilely, the slender, elf-like form, cloaked in darkness, made swift progress through the tree limbs, leaping easily from one tree to the next, traveling a great distance above the ground before alighting gracefully once more to the forest floor.
Any tracks left would be difficult to discern through the varied path upon ground, tree, and the brook that crisscrossed the forest floor.
It would be daylight before the figure would pause, seeking shelter and rest.
DA:O
The first thing she noticed was how very warm she was. Dressed in her sleeping tunic, which had somehow gotten twisted up along her legs, covered with more than one blanket, she felt closed in, almost claustrophobic. That was when she noticed that she was walled in on both sides by two very massive, slow breathing masses. She opened her eyes to find herself staring into a strong, muscled neck. Alistair's neck. Confused, she reached out with a hand behind her, encountering the rough bristle of Hafter's fur. Okay, she thought, moving her hand back, noticing that her other arm was wrapped about the human Warden's waist. Confused, she lifted her face.
Alistair was sleeping, although if the facial twitches were anything to go by, she suspected he would awaken fairly soon. Tipping her head back slightly, she watched as his lips twitched slightly, a grimace forming at his brow, creasing it. She never liked it when worry would line his face. As he relaxed, so, too, did the lines, smoothing out, revealing a boyish face. She smiled as she brought a hand up to brush along his cheek, up to his forehead, and back down to his chin. She always liked his face - it was very expressive, extremely handsome, but approachable. Roland's fine features made him almost too handsome, almost as though his features had been carved from marble so perfect were they. But Alistair's face, with it's sun touched tan, that almost silly scruffy patch (he seemed to like it) under his lower lip, fine smile lines around his mouth and squint marks at his eyes…She liked his face. Handsome, pleasant, friendly.
She frowned to herself for comparing the two men. That was not fair. The previous evening came back and she flushed with embarrassment at the remembrance of Roland kissing her. While it had been a rather nice kiss, it did not stir in her the feelings she thought that being kissed by such a handsome and honorable man would be. Of course, last night - yesterday - had not been the best of times to explore that kind of a relationship anyway.
Sighing, she started to snuggle closer to Alistair, but then stopped herself. She frowned, looking back up into his face. Why was he here? She could not remember anything after retiring last night. Well, anything other than that horrid nightmare. She shivered slightly, moving to snuggle closer to Alistair, who merely stirred a bit, making a slight whining noise in his nose. She grinned at that, using her friend as an anchor - no, a wave to push the nightmare aside. Vaughan can no longer harm her. Not in the physical, nor in her mind. She has already seen so much, done more, braved horrors she had never even heard of before. One little, cruel nobleman would not have his hold upon her any longer.
Not when she is surrounded with friends such as Alistair. Not when she is the Commander of the Grey in Fereldan (of all two of the wardens therein). Not when so much absolutely does depend upon her and these that have chosen to follow her, whatever their reasons. She is calm now, the nightmare merely a reflection of the past. Something that cannot harm her any longer as it was done and she has faced it, and in many ways is stronger for it.
She purposefully ignored the wrenching feeling in her stomach.
She did not allow her mind to wander to Shianni's broken and bruised form. Or Nelaros' still, bloodied body.
There had been prices to pay, horrible, terrible prices. Prices she would rather not have had paid. Prices she felt would also have been too high.
But, even so, if not for that unhappy episode, she would not be here now. And, as much as the thought surprises her, where she is now - wrapped in her dearest friend's arms, surrounded by people who in one way or another actually believe in her and their cause - is where she actually wants to be. Well, that and with a chunk of wood or ceramic in hand, a pottery wheel or easel nearby.
Hafter stretches next to her, pushing her further against Alistair's strong chest with an arch of his back. The dog whines slightly, then blinks open his soft brown eyes. Whimpering, he rises, then noses the tent flap open, letting in a bright sliver of sunshine. With a happy grunt to his mistress, the warhound leaves the tent for his morning ablutions.
Her back is cooler without the furnace of her dog there. But Alistair, a furnace all unto himself, keeps her warm still. But, it is morning, and she still does not know why he and Hafter (who usually prefers sleeping outside her tent) were both in here with her.
"Alistair?" She whispers, pulling back, nudging his chest slightly. He grunts a bit in his sleep. She grins, pushing just a bit harder.
He starts to whine, "Ahhh…ten more minutes," he sleepily begs. "Have someone else take morning duty for Morning Prayers."
Not even bothering to stifle a giggle, the elven woman placed both hands on his chest and gave him a good shake. Startled, he gasped, his eyes flying open, both hands reaching down to firmly grip Adela's hands, stilling her.
"Alistair," she said in a slightly louder voice, pulling on her arms. The human looked down first into Adela's face, and then at her captured hands. Grinning sheepishly, he eased his grip, but still held her hands in his.
"Adela," he breathed, seemingly relieved. He was having the strangest dreams about standing guard during the revered mother's morning sermons - all while in his small clothes. "How are you feeling?" His eyes looked upon her with concern.
She frowned, "Feeling?" She asked, "I feel fine. Why?"
His brows shot up. "Don't you remember?" he asked, his voice filled with concern but tinged with relief. "You were…attacked last night. And poisoned. We almost lost you."
She blinked, pulling her hands free and pushing herself into a seated position. She felt fine. "I don't remember," she admitted, "and I feel fine," she repeated as Alistair rose into a seated position beside her. "So, is that why both you and Hafter were here?"
Her friend nodded. "The poison used had dropped your body temperature severely. Niall suggested that Hafter and I…ah, sleep next to you to help keep you warm." He glanced down at her, realizing for the first time that all she wore was her sleeping tunic which, while usually covered her to her knees when she stood, was now pushed up to her thighs. He blushed slightly, and pulled the blanket to cover her legs. She watched the movement, trying to digest what Alistair had told her.
How could she have no memory of that? "So, I was attacked and poisoned," she repeated. "What happened to my assailant?"
Alistair shook his head, rubbing his hand over his hair. "Got away. We would never have known you were attacked had you not screamed out." He frowned. "But you don't recall the attack?"
"No," she said firmly, "I had a nightmare, and I recall crying out from that. And, I vaguely recall your coming in here, calling my name," she shrugged. "After that, nothing."
Alistair reached over and placed a hand on her forehead. She felt as warm as she ever did. Her eyes were bright and clear, her speech focused and sure. Although he had very limited knowledge of poisons, he had expected her to be quite ill this morning. That she wasn't surprised him.
"Alistair," she called to him, watching his face closely. "I can tell you that I am exceedingly starved and would love some breakfast." She waggled her eyebrows at him, grinning.
Sighing, he nodded. "Me too, actually." He pushed himself up and toward the tent flap. "We'll need to have a closer watch at night from now on," he replied as he paused at the exit, watching his friend. "How someone could get into your tent, without your noticing, stab you, and then get away without any of us noticing is really very worrying."
Nodding her agreement, she reached over to her pack for a fresh tunic and breeches. "I agree," she frowned as she paused, "I don't like the idea of someone out there who can get past you, the Sten and Leliana."
Her eyes rose to meet his. She saw the same concern there as well. With a nod, Alistair left her tent, leaving her to dress.
DA:O
Everyone was surprised when Adela emerged from her tent, freshly dressed, her hair loose and hanging tangle free about her shoulders, and eyes shining. Zevran gave Alistair a suggestive grin, which the tall Warden ignored magnificently. Niall immediately went over to her and, after several minutes spent sending healing magic into her, declared the poison gone and the elven Warden fit. He did pause several times as his magic detected the taint that flowed through all Grey Wardens' blood, but it was an anomaly he had detected before and so bypassed it.
Zevran was perhaps the most surprised, advising that the combination of toxins used in the poison should have kept her down for at least a day after the Deathroot had cleared from her system. The two Wardens exchanged looks. Adela's wondered if the joining had anything to do with her quick recovery; Alistair's face mirrored the same question.
Roland, who had been by the water cleaning up, spotted Adela and rushed to her, scooping her up and hugging her tightly, kissing her lightly as he did so. Surprised, Adela allowed the hug and kiss before pushing away, declaring that she was fine, starved and wanting a bath. Grinning down at her, the knight released her, sitting next to her as she settled down to spoon out some of the porridge Morrigan had prepared. The elf looked over at Alistair, and patted the seat beside her on the log. Smiling, he picked up a bowl, scooped out some food, and planted himself next to her, happily ignoring the look the redhead knight was giving him.
As they ate, Adela thanked Zevran for his assistance, to which the elven assassin merely bowed, hand to chest, stating it had been his privilege. No one mentioned to her that Roland had attacked the elf.
The group had all settled around the fire, eating, and discussing the change in guard duty at night. Instead of one on duty, there now would be two, and the two needed to patrol the perimeter every fifteen minutes and shifts would be three hours instead of four. The Sten approved resoundingly (well for him) with a firm nod and "Agreed!".
The new routine settled, the companions rose to break down camp and head to Lake Calenhad. Roland had insisted upon breaking Adela's tent down, but she refused, saying that she was fine and he had his own things to take care of. The knight frowned at her decision, but did not argue with her about it, turning to take down his own tent.
DA:O
The journey back to Lake Calenhad proved uneventful, much to the delight of Adela. They had begun their new watch rotation and she thought that it would work well. The elven Warden did not believe that the loss of one hour of sleep should not be a detriment to the companions.
As they approached the lake, the Sten moved closer to Adela. Pointing to where an older man was bent on knees, he spoke. "That is where my brethren and I encountered the darkspawn."
Adela followed his arm and nodded. Gesturing for the others to wait, she led the Sten to the area, to where the man seemed to be digging at the blackened earth.
"You do realize," the elf said as she neared the man, "that the earth here has been tainted," he looked up at her. "The land should be burned, not toiled with bare hand."
Blanching, the man scrambled to his feet, hastily wiping his hands upon his stained and patched tunic. "Oh! Ah…I didn't know," he stammered, the look of fear coming over him. "I, ah, should probably mention that to someone."
Nodding, Adela continued. "You wouldn't have happened to come across a rather large sword?" The man blinked owlishly to her and then back stepped when he turned his eyes upon the white haired, purple eyed giant beside her. A growl escaped the Sten's throat. "Goodman?" she said, reaching over to grasp his arm.
Shaking his head, "No, no…I ain't found nothing but bones and black dirt," he spat out. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I know, don't say it. I've been tooked."
"Tooked?" Adela repeated, frowning.
"Yeah, man sold me the looting rights, but didn't mention he had taken everything but the bones." His eyes narrowed slightly. "His name's Faryn, and he's heading to Orzammar, if you're curious." He grinned. "Wish I could see his face when he gets a gander at you," he pointed to the Sten.
"Orzammar?" Adela asked, making certain she heard correctly.
The man nodded, "Yup. They's got some outdoor market there, and Faryn has a stall." He shrugged, turning and seeming to forget about the pair, and Adela's warning, as he went back to digging into the tainted soil. Frowning, Adela turned and left, the Sten close behind her.
"When we head to Orzammar," the elf was telling the Qunari as they approached the others, "we will seek this Faryn out and get your sword."
"Thank you, Warden," the large man replied with a nod. The elf was certain she noticed a hint of gratitude in his tone.
The innkeeper at the Spoiled Princess proved less helpful than the scavenger. He had first declared that Brother Genetivi had never visited his establishment. He seemed nervous and trying hard to get Adela and the others to leave. Zevran, standing nearby, smiled warmly at the man, suggesting that perhaps he knew of the good Brother, but his memory was failing. The man's eyes widened slightly, and he turned back to the elven Warden.
"There are some here," he whispered in low tones, "that have told me to deny knowledge of this Brother or the knights that have come looking for him."
Adela's brow twitched at that. No one had mentioned the knights. "So he has been here?' she asked, keeping her own tone low while Zevran turned around nonchalantly, a cup of ale in hand, his tawny eyes scanning about the place.
"No," the innkeep said, "but the knights have. I don't know what's going on, but these others have threatened me and mine if I let on to anything." His fear was real, and he nervously gestured to the front door.
Placing a sovereign on the counter, Adela thanked him, telling him that she would ensure that his family was no longer threatened. With a jerk of her head, the elf led the others from the inn.
As they began to ascend the slope leading away from the lake, the group was attacked by several well armed and armored men. These were not simple bandits, and Adela had the impression that these were the very ones the innkeeper had mentioned. Although very skilled and well armed, the attackers fell easily. Searching the bodies (Zevran and Leliana looted what they could - much of the armor and weaponry had been damaged during their fight), Adela found a note hidden within the breastplate of one of the assailants. The paper was marked with a dragon, and a few words written in a hasty hand described Adela. Frowning, Adela told the group they would have to return to Denerim and pay Weylon a visit.
During the first day heading backwards, they ran into bandits and darkspawn. But, the bands were small and easily dispatched. Zevran chuckled, asking Adela if this was the norm for their group. Smiling, she nodded as she watched Niall tend a small wound on the elven assassin's arm, noticing the mage stayed a bit longer at the elven man's side. With a hearty laugh, Zevran declared that he was very much going to enjoy traveling with them.
DA:O
Their first night camping on their return journey to Denerim found Alistair on watch with Leliana. Of course, the Warden had arranged things so that he would be on watch, having swapped the first shift with the Sten. Of course, in doing so meant that Adela would be taking the Sten's watch with Roland. He wished he had thought of that beforehand.
For a time, the pair chatted lightly as they circled the camp's perimeter. Morrigan and Niall had also set up glyphs around the camp, set to stun, paralyze or knock down any intruders.
"So, Leliana," Alistair started, trying to make his voice sound as nonchalant as possible. "You're a woman, right?"
The red head stopped, a small twitch of her lips fighting to smile. A slender, red eyebrow rose in amusement. "Gosh, Alistair," she said, her voice soft, her accent pleasant. "I don't know." She looked down at herself, gasping in feigned astonishment. "My goodness! Alistair! You are right! I am a woman." She looked up, her blue eyes merry.
Rolling his amber eyes, the young man flushed slightly. "Oh, right, sorry."
The bard giggled at him, taking his arm and continuing their circuit around the camp. "Now, my friend, that we have established I am, indeed, a woman, what can I do for you?"
Taking a deep breath, he started over. "Okay, what if someone liked you, a great deal," he looked over at her, embarrassment clear on his face. "How would you like him to show you?"
"Ah, so you would assume only a man would want my attentions?" she teased, clearly enjoying his discomfort and not willing to let him off the hook so easily.
Groaning, he rubbed a hand across his face. "Please, Leliana," he pleaded, "I need some advice and I don't even know how to ask for it."
Taking pity, the young Orlesian suppressed her growing desire to continue teasing the poor man. "Alright, Alistair. First bit of advice," she paused, turning him to face her. "Never, ever ask a woman if she is a woman," she ticked a finger at him. "May well do irreparable damage to her ego."
Nodding, taking her sage advice, he replied. "Right. Got it. No questioning a woman about her femininity."
Smiling at him, she pulled him by the arm and they resumed their patrol. "Now, what, exactly do you need?"
He shrugged. "I'm not really sure," he admitted. "I just wanted some advice. What should I do if... if I think a woman is special and…"
Smiling at her bashful friend, the bard asked, "Why do you ask? Are you afraid things will not proceed naturally?"
Laughing, shaking his head, the warden replied, "Why would they? Especially when I do things like ask beautiful women if they're female."
Leliana paused, tilting her head to watch Alistair closely. She smiled, her eyes shining. "It adds to your charm, Alistair. You are a little awkward. It is endearing."
Sighing heavily, rubbing his hand over his hair, frowning a bit. "So I should be awkward?" He cocked his head at her, a confused look in his eyes. "But didn't you just say not to do things like that?"
Giggling, she shook her red head, "Just be yourself, Alistair. You do know how to do that, don't you?" She grinned. "I've always thought you did quite well at it."
Slumping slightly, defeated, he replied, "All right, forget I asked."
But Leliana would not abandon him in such a manner. "No, no, my dear friend," she said, tucking her hand under his arm, walking beside him amiably. "That is not what I meant." She looked up into his face. "This is about Adela, is it not?"
"Who else?"
Her smile widened. Leliana had hoped that Alistair would work up the courage to pursue the pretty little elf. As much as she liked Roland, she felt he was not quite right for her friend. She could see easily how well the two Wardens got along, and Alistair's affections for the small woman were obvious to all with eyes. Except to the woman in question herself.
"Alistair," Leliana tugged him to a halt, her eyes slightly serious. "Adela already likes you, a great deal," she smiled. "That is usually the toughest obstacle to overcome. And I tell you to be yourself because she does already like you, but also because our elven friend values honesty greatly. If you try to be like someone else," her eyes wandered toward Roland's tent, "you will only succeed in driving away." She shrugged, resuming their pace once more. "Your biggest problem really isn't so much trying to impress Adela, it's just making your own intentions to her known." She shrugged. "And for that, you just need to let go a bit of your inhibitions and just let how you feel come out."
"Huh," the warden replied with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "I had figured that part out already. I just don't know how to go about it."
"Relax," she said in a soothing voice. "You sometimes are so concerned about what you say that you get all tense and clam up. And, while that is cute and endearing, it does little by way of getting your thoughts across."
"So, let me get this straight," he replied, "Be myself - I can do that, I hope." he grinned. "And just tell her what I feel."
"Well," Leliana grinned. "I wouldn't come right out and tell her your love her, please marry me," she giggled at Alistair's crestfallen features. "You need to court her, Alistair. But do so by simply being yourself. If you feel like flirting with her, do it, no matter who is around or how silly you think you'd feel about it. Trust me," she reached over and patted his cheek. "the rewards are far greater than any teasing you will receive from the rest of us."
She laughed at the panicked look he gave her. "Oh, come now, Alistair," she chided. "You know you will be teased, and mercilessly, too. You just need to decide if she's worth it."
"You're going to tease me, too?" he asked in a little boy's voice, a slight pout crossing his face.
"Oh, Alistair," she giggled, "you have the pouting face down quite nicely." She mimicked his expression. "And, oui, of course I'm going to tease you," she declared with a flounce in her step. "What sort of friend would I be if I did not?"
Sighing, the Warden continued his circuit of the perimeter, frowning at his friend as she merrily went on ahead.
DA:O
When their shift ended, Leliana and Alistair awoke Adela and Roland for theirs. Although it meant that Roland would be sharing three entire hours, alone, with Adela, Alistair felt that his conversation with Leliana had been a good one. He even bent down to give Adela a quick kiss on her cheek, even smiling at Roland as he straightened, before retiring for the night.
Roland and Adela began their circuit of the camp, passing the starting point within the fifteen minute time frame they had earlier established. They did not speak much during the first two hours of their shift, concentrating mostly upon the surrounding area.
When the end of their second hour came and they passed within reach of Roland's tent, the knight excused himself for a moment and went to his tent. With a shrug, the elf continued her circuit, watching the surrounding woods. It was quiet, and she was glad for that.
A soft rustling sound behind her told her that Roland had exited her tent, and she turned to watch him approach her. He held something in his hands, and as he approached, she noted it was a rather large pouch.
A pleasant smile upon his fine features, the knight handed the pouch over to the elf. "I picked these up while we were in Denerim the first time through," he explained, watching as her slender hands reached out and took the pouch. "I had been waiting for a chance to give it to you. Now seemed as good a time as any."
Her blue eyes glanced up, meeting his green, a lovely smile upon her face. "You didn't have to do this, Roland," she said in a quiet voice as she worried the strings apart, and pulled open the mouth of the pouch. Taking a step closer, Roland watched as her eyes widened upon seeing the contents of the pouch.
"Roland," she breathed, pulling forth from the sack a large piece of ivory, of perfect carving quality, perfectly white. She turned the exquisite piece over, her experienced hands searching for any surface defects, her eyes taking in the perfect white of the piece.
"There are smaller pieces in there," the knight explained, smiling broadly at the delight upon Adela's face. "And I managed to find a piece of ironbark," he grinned as her face darted up at that. Ironbark?
"I've never worked Ironbark," she breathed as she dug a hand back into the pouch to search out the wood. She pulled out a dark blue piece, smoother than any other wood she had ever worked. The surface fairly shimmered. "I…I don't know what to say," she murmured, gazing at the treasures she had just been handed.
Taking another step nearer, Roland gazed down at her. "Just make something lovely," he remarked, smiling. "And if you felt like creating a masterpiece for me, well," he shrugged, "I certainly would not turn it away." He reached over and put a hand to her cheek, tracing the contours of her face with a thumb. "It is something you enjoy doing, and with all that we are facing now, every moment of joy should be taken."
Acting on impulse, the elf rose to her tip toes, and placed her hands upon his broad shoulders, setting her soft lips upon Roland's. Taking the cue, the knight wrapped his arms around the slender elf, and gently returned the kiss. Smiling, pushing away, Adela placed her treasures back into the pouch, smiling back up at the knight. Roland took her hand and the pair resumed their watch.
DA:O
Four days after they left Denerim found the group back at the doorstep of Brother Genetivi. Adela had the Sten, Niall, Zevran and Leliana waiting outside, ordering the two rogues to circle around the house, noting any other exits to the house. Adela, with Alistair, Roland, Morrigan and Hafter would enter via the front door and confront Weylon. Each nodded to the elven Warden, confirming her orders, and the five entered the house without knocking.
Weylon was walking toward the door. His expression was first one of curiosity, then quick anger. Once his eyes settled upon the intruders, it became one of mild curiosity tinged with concern.
"You return?" he asked, just the right amount of concern in his voice. Adela could hear the insincerity behind it.
"Surprised?" she asked, taking a step forward, her hands on her daggers. She allowed her anger to show, and her body language screamed it. "Now," She took a step forward, "why don't you tell us what is going on and where Brother Genetivi can be found."
Weylon's face changed from that of a mousy scrivener to a fierce mage. Shouting out, "All shall be forgiven!" he cast a blasting spell at the elven warden, smirking as she stumbled back, gasping in pain.
Roland struck out with his sword as Alistair gathered his will and drained Weylon of his mana. Cursing, the mage stumbled back, his magic taken from him, weakening him severely. He stumbled away from Roland's sword, but Morrigan's blast of ice caught him in a wintry grasp, freezing him to the spot. Alistair lunged forward, his sword leading the way, piercing flesh, cutting through bone, slicing into the heart behind rib cage.
Adela regained her balance as Weylon slumped to the floor, dead.
Frowning at the body, Adela suggested that they search the house, looking for any clues as to where the missing Brother could be found.
Roland and Morrigan search the kitchen and dining areas as Alistair and Adela search the back of the house. A sympathetic hum rose in the elf's throat as she spied the decomposing body of a young man.
"That must be the real Weylon," she commented as she pulled a blanket from a nearby bed and covered the young man.
Alistair nods sadly, reciting from the Chant:
"I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade;
For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light.
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."
Smiling, Adela placed a hand upon Alistair's arm and gave him a gentle nod. Returning the nod, the former Templar-in-training returned to searching for clues of the Brother's whereabouts.
Adela had to pick the lock on a nearby trunk. Frowning, she started pulling out various clothing, sundries and other personal items. Alistair was busy rummaging through a nearby chest of drawers. As the elf continued, she rose to her feet, having to bend far into the trunk. The young man looked over and paused. The angle the elf presented was a very nice view of her derrière, and Alistair found himself blushing profusely as he realized he was staring. He quickly averted his eyes, ducking his head down, hoping the heat that flushed his face would dissipate before his fellow Warden noticed.
"Ah ha!" Adela cried out as she reached with both hands and, straightening, pulled a heavy volume from the trunk. Turning away from the trunk, she opened the leather bound cover and began thumbing through the neatly scribed pages. Alistair, his face feeling cooler, moved to her side, slumping slightly from his greater height to watch as her long fingers glided across the pages, searching. Then, she tapped lightly on a page, showing her friend what she found. He frowned, looking into her face.
"Haven?" He had never heard of it.
The elf nodded, flipping through the pages again, finding a hand drawn map further back of the journal. "We need to head eastward, or more southeastward," she patted where they were now tracing a path to the mysterious village. "It's going to take us at least a week, maybe two make that trip," she groused, frowning. "If the weather holds."
Her eyes skimmed along the map, resting on the icon of a tree, depicting the Brecilian Forest. Biting her bottom lip, she looked up into Alistair's face. "We will make our path to the village," she said, "But, also keep an eye and ear open for word on any of the Dalish clans in the Forest," she tapped a long finger at the tree icon. "Maybe then we can get another treaty recognized as we go along, and save time."
Alistair chuckled a little at that. "Ah, remember last time we thought we were going to 'save time'?" He nudged her lightly with his shoulder, she pushed right back.
"Yes, yes, I seem to recall that not working out as brilliantly as I had planned," she smiled up into his face, fluttering her long eyelashes. "But, what are the chances of something like that happening again?"
Laughing at her, the warden shook his head. "Do you mean with our running luck?" He asked playfully, giving one of her braids a gentle tug.
Batting his hands away, the Warden Commander assumed a scowl, but it didn't last long (especially with Alistair laughing at her). "Yes, well, we'll plan for trouble, and when it doesn't happen," she placed a small hand on his chest, looking up at his under her lashes. "You get to buy me something pretty."
Taking her hand under his, Alistair decided to follow his own advice, and Leliana's, and asked, with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. "And what do I get if I win?"
Her lips parted in a small gasp. Feeling a faint blush crawl to her cheeks, she stepped back a bit, stammering for a reply.
Grinning, thinking that perhaps he could learn to flirt by practicing more, he recaptured her hand. Taking a deep breath, he plunged right in. "A kiss."
Blinking, the flush deepening, she replied, "A kiss?"
Nodding, he released her hand, taking the journal from her other and tucking it into his pack. "Yes, that's my wager." His smile turned a bit more suggestive. "A real kiss. Full on the lips." He took a step closer, still smiling down at her. "At a time of my choosing."
Swallowing thickly, the elf bit her lip, but then raised her eyes and boldly met his, even though her cheeks were flaming now. "It's a wager." She waved a hand blasé, saying, "I'll have to decide what pretty thing you'll have to buy for me." She turned, looking back at him over her shoulder. "And it will be expensive."
Alistair just grinned, feeling rather pleased with himself. Chances are things would go smoothly, but he had taken that first plunge, and actually flirted with Adela. It made him feel a bit…warm.
And, although he wasn't one for looking for trouble, he found that he'd like just a small bit of it - perhaps a very small band of bandits in the Brecilian Forest, perhaps harassing a small hunting band of elves - if for the chance of a real kiss from Adela's lips.
With a raised brow, the elf glanced back at the other warden, and then led him from the room to join up with the others.