I apologize for this chapter taking so long to post. It's been an awful chapter; my muse ran away on one of those darned Hallas and I couldn't get her back to inspire me properly. I'm not really happy with this chapter, but it's a necessary evil, I fear.
And, as always, thank you all for the reviews: mutive, Biff McLaughlin, Arsinoe de Blassenville, zevgirl, nithu. 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!
Oh! And I got another favorite author alert! Those make me smile as much as a review does!
DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn
Chapter 24
She found herself stumbling along in the dark. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds, and the heavy foliage and tree overhang made the darkness deeper. She scowled, turning about, trying to find her path again. How could she have been so stupid to have gotten lost of all things? Her father would be so ashamed of her lack of foresight. Sighing, she felt that her father would be ashamed regardless.
She forced herself to stop. Standing still, her hands on her full hips, she bent her head, catching her breath. There was a camp nearby, one she had scouted out earlier. Her head lifted. There, to the east, the sound of rushing water. Yes, the site had been near a rushing brook. Confident she was at least in the right area, the young woman turned about and, making her way through the darkness, sought out her campsite.
DA:O
The blood mage gazed down at his lover, watching as her chest rose and fell with her gentle breaths. He allowed a moment of tenderness to overtake him as he reached a strong hand to cup her cheek. Tracing his hand down, he followed the strong lines to her shoulders, and lower, tracing the side of her small breast to slim waist and muscled hip. While no beauty, this warrior woman contained what the mage most desired in a person: strength, conviction, a willingness to fight for what she believed, the passion to see it through to the end, and the courage to not walk away. He bent down to kiss her lightly upon her thin lips, adjusting his body to pull her naked form closer to his. She murmured in her sleep, twisting a bit as his hands settled at her stomach, splaying across the lightly muscled abdomen, holding her possessively against his own strong chest.
Arawn's thoughts went over the course of the past few weeks. Howe was still concerned about the Cousland girl's continued absence. But the blood mage did not seem to think it was a matter of great urgency. Loghain had become exceptionally pliant, and the mage did worry about that. The Teyrn was no fool, and was extremely strong in will. Between the poison, blood vials and Arawn's own exceptionally strong magic they had managed to keep the man under firm control. The few times he had broken free, a mere threat to Anora's continued health was enough to get him back under reins.
The fools of the Bannorn continued to press the realm for their freedoms and sovereign rights. Rights? They would bow before the throne or loose everything. Already, many of the Banns had either fallen or accepted their losses and bowed knee to Loghain. And, in so doing, bowed knee to him.
The reports of increasing darkspawn sightings had the mage concerned. He knew that the Grey Wardens proclaimed only they were fit to fight against a Blight. However, darkspawn fell as easily to his men's blades as they did any others. It was all propaganda, to his mind, and he again thought Maric a fool for having so completely trusted the Wardens. There was no evidence that the Wardens were needed, and there was no evidence this was a Blight.
So convinced, Arawn continued to pull resources in, setting up the power base of the Throne, bringing unlawful Banns and other lords into line, crushing those who opposed.
A smile crossed his handsome face, and he bent down to kiss his love again, before lowering his head to sleep.
DA:O
They entered the Brecilian Forest nearly a week out of Denerim, heading southeasterly. They had stopped at a small village, seeking to resupply, when word had arrived that there were Dalish clans traveling through the forest. Apparently, with this news, the villagers ordered no one to enter the deeper parts of the forest until word arrived the wild elves had left.
Smiling, Adela spoke to the local merchant for direction as to where the clan normally camped. With a frown, and three silvers richer, the man indicated a portion of the Forest, tapping the girl's map with a chubby finger. "That part right there," he said, "is believed to be haunted. Take care of yerself, girlie," he said kindly, looking her over and then the others. "Them wild elves aren't like you city bred ones. They'll shoot you full o' arrows as they would any other."
Thanking him for his time and the warning, feeling better armed with the knowledge her mother had imparted to her during her childhood, Adela led her merry band away from the village and to the Forest.
DA:O
"People have always spoken of dark and mysterious woods, haunted by unseen beings." Leliana spoke as they passed through the thick foliage and dense vegetation of the Brecilian Forest, her voice low, a mysterious quality to her sing-song voice, "The Brecilian Forest is one such forest." The bard smiled at the others as she continued, "They say the Veil is thin here and spirits from the Fade pass over, drifting through the trees and giving them an unnatural and sinister intelligence. It is said that if you feel you are being watched in the Brecilian Forest, you are."
Adela smiled over at the Orlesian, grinning as Alistair stared into the surrounding trees suspiciously and Niall moved just slightly closer to Zevran. Leliana glanced at the small elven woman, a grin upon her pretty face.
"Mamae would tell me," the elf stated, her face softened by memory, "that the trees would walk, and the very trails reorient themselves, trapping the unwary within their boughs for all eternity."
Her fellow warden glanced down at her. "Really?" he grimaced. "Trees actually walked?"
Roland snorted behind them, and the elf grinned wider, looking over her shoulder to the knight. He waggled his red brows at her, and she shook her head. "Be wary, Ser Knight," she scolded playfully. "Lest one of the wild sylvans take hold of you and drop you onto one of the ever changing trails."
Here he laughed, stepping nearer the woman, smiling down at her. "You tease," he proclaimed. "Surely those things do not happen."
It was Leliana who laughed, and Morrigan, walking beside her, scoffed at the knight. "How very droll," the witch uttered. Roland turned to glare at her. "And how very narrow your mind is, Ser Gilmore," she continued, smirking over at the bard with a sidelong glance. "We live in a world where the dead walk, where demons can assume human form. And yet you walk here, amongst the eldest of the forests of Thedas, and proclaim certain can not be so." She arched a brow at him, tipping her head forward. "How very fortunate we are, indeed, to have one of such astuteness amongst us to assure all of what is and what is not possible."
Leliana giggled, bumping into Morrigan's shoulder. The witch merely grinned, accepting the contact with merely a raised brow. Shaking his head, Roland turned back to the pretty elf before him, who was now shaking her own head. But at him.
"Morrigan is correct, you know," she smiled at him. "Why, on our journey, have we not experienced things that others have said could not be possible?" She watched as the knight digested that. "Who truly can say what is and what isn't possible?" She turned back to watch her steps, noticing the Alistair had moved just a bit closer to her side as she lightly scolded the knight.
She did not notice the smirk the other warden tossed at the knight, or the glare he received in return.
"So," Alistair said to his fellow warden, turning his attention away from his rival. "Your mother was Dalish, right?"
Adela nodded her blond head, smiling at up the tops of the trees overhead. "Yes, she was." She grinned over at Alistair. "I certainly hope it is her clan we happen upon," she admitted. "It would be nice to see if any of her family survive."
"And if they would accept you?" Alistair knew all too well the need and desire for family, and knew how much family meant to the elf beside him. Adela nodded in confirmation, continuing to lead the band through the forest.
The band traveled through the forest for several days, making quick camps when the sun settled to the west, rising once the sun had risen to resume their journey. The weather still held, and was warmer than they had anticipated.
During their seventh night in the Forest, Adela had settled down before the fire, one of the smaller pieces of ivory Roland had given her in hand, a curved bladed knife in her hand as she contemplated the piece. She set the blade down, frowning at the piece of white ivory in her hand. She glanced over and watched as Roland and Alistair sparred. A sudden inspiration came upon her and she pulled up the pouch by her side. Reaching in, she plucked out the largest piece of ivory, setting the smaller one back within. Her hand brushed against the ironbark therein.
Pulling out the ivory, she then placed a large cloth across her lap. She settled back, her carving knife back in hand. With a grin, she began to carefully carve the unwanted pieces away, letting them fall to the cloth adorning her lap.
Zevran had settled down across the fire, watching as her quick, agile fingers held the tiny knife, carving flakes of ivory from the main mass. His eyes furrowed as he noticed she continued to flake off the valuable bone, moving the knife around the form continuously. Finally, his curiosity overruled him and he had to ask. "Why not simply cut away the larger pieces that do not belong?" his heavily accented voice obtained a deeper tone with his curiosity. "Why move the blade around the entire mass slivering off mere slices?"
Adela grinned, her dexterous fingers continuing their work. "If I were to make a mistake," she explained as she continued removing thin slices. "It is easier to spot the mistake while removing small bits of the ivory and fixing it."
She raised her blue-blue eyes briefly, then turned them back to her work. "If I removed large hunks of the ivory, I could make a mistake and not have anything to work with to correct the mistake." She frowned as she turned the piece in her hands. "I would hate to have to waste this piece and try to find a replacement when all I needed to do was do the work carefully and patiently."
Her hands stopped, and she lifted her head to smile over at the other elf. "It actually saves no time to cut larger pieces out rather than the smaller slices. The time saved by cutting hunks out is actually then wasted to try and smooth out the edges and reshape the figure."
The assassin smiled, still watching her long, delicate fingers. "Patience, then, is the key, no?" he replied, lifting his eyes to smile into the younger elf's face. She nodded, returning the smile yet keeping her eyes upon her work.
She was comfortable in Zevran's presence, something she knew that both Roland and Alistair, along with Morrigan, could not understand and openly and loudly disagreed with on occasion. The elven warden stood by her decision to allow the assassin to join their group. In the few weeks he had been with them, he had proven to be an excellent fighter, stabbing out from the shadows and disabling foes with an almost unreal ease. She was even starting to consider him a friend of sorts. She was pleased that the assassin had befriended Niall, and had noticed the change in Niall's normally shy demeanor. The human mage was more open now, likely to joke along with everyone else rather than sticking closely by Adela's side, as had been his wont when he first joined up with the crew. Of course, she had also heard the sounds coming from the mage's tent. Sounds that Roland later clarified that the mage had taken the assassin on as a lover. She grinned when she thought of the knight's face when he had advised her of that - it rather reminded her of someone who had eaten an unripe lemon: tough to chew and extremely sour.
Adela looked over to where the knight stood beside Alistair, both men now standing, talking quietly with one another. She was glad the two were getting along. They tended to badger one another at every opportunity they got.
She turned back to the carving in her hand; Zevran remained seated beside her, moving only when Niall came over to join the pair. A grin crossed Adela's lovely face when the mage placed an affectionate arm around the assassin's shoulders.
DA:O
His blade parried one well aimed swing, barely twisting it away from him as his opponent's shield bashed against his own. Both men circled each other, sizing the other up. Evenly matched on many levels, his opponent still had the upper hand in sheer strength.
So, he had to make up the difference with agility.
Skipping to the side, setting his feet under him just so, the knight twisted his wrist, swinging his blade trying to catch the side of the Warden's shield to push it aside. Alistair pulled his shield back, thrusting out with his own blade, seeking to gain entrance around the knight's shield.
A giggle from the campsite caused both men to pause, their eyes shifting to where their - their - elven warden sat, a little too close to the elven assassin.
Green eyes met amber, and both men wore matching frowns.
"I don't like her being so close to him," Alistair complained as he lowered both his weapon and shield to step closer to Roland. The knight agreed.
While both men had come to an unspoken agreement that they were rivals for Adela's affections, they were less than thrilled with the prospect of the elven assassin adding his own voice to the competition. Zevran was too worldly, too experienced, and Adela just too naïve to understand the difference between genuine affection - such as possessed by both Roland and Alistair - and a sheer desire to win a conquest to warm his bed. Not thrilled with the prospect of her going to the other, both men were less so with Zevran ever getting his hands on her.
"I do not know how she can trust him," Roland muttered, turning to look at Alistair. The Warden turned his gaze from Adela's smiling face to match Roland's scowl.
With a shrug, Alistair replied, "He has proven…somewhat trustworthy, these past weeks," he offered weakly, still frowning. "I'd just rather he not sit so close to her." Another giggle brought both sets of eyes back to the campsite.
Adela was carving something from the ivory Roland had given her, and Zevran seemed interested in her work. Roland knew, however, that sometimes men would feign interest in something a woman they pursued was skilled in. He knew this firsthand; he had implemented the same measures himself many times in his own pursuits.
Frowning deeply, he looked over at the man he considered his chief rival for the girl's attentions. "We should come to a gentleman's pact," the knight remarked, watching as Alistair's eyes lit with interest.
"How so?" the Warden drawled, wondering what the knight was up to.
Taking a breath, Roland answered, "There's no denying that we each have feelings for Adela," he watched as Alistair's eyes narrowed slightly, and then nodded. "And I think we can agree that each of us have Adela's best interests at heart." He turned and saw that Adela was watching them and smiled at her as her eyes met his. She returned the smile. Alistair turned in time to see the elf turn back to her work. "We are gentlemen, and would not…sorely use Adela for our own gain." Alistair nodded his agreement. "So, we will make certain the elven assassin does not seek to compromise our lady's honor."
The two men eyed each other for a moment, and then, Alistair nodded again. "So be it," he said, holding out his hand.
With that, both men stepped back, raising weapons and shields, seeking to remove the other from his feet.
DA:O
Two days later and the group found themselves in one of the Dalish camps wandering the Forest. At first, Adela had been excited. Although not her mother's clan, she was still thrilled with the prospect of meeting and interacting with the wild elves.
Her thrill and joy had been short lived.
First was the rather rude greeting she had received from the hunter that had found them. Being an elf, she had expected at least a cordial greeting, however, it was the huntress's term for her that caused her spine to stiffen.
Flat ear.
She had heard her own mother use the derogatory name for those elves born in the influence of humans. Being half Dalish, the girl had never thought of herself as such. And yet, it was glaringly obvious that this would be how her mother's kin would see her.
Gritting her teeth, wanting to respond with a scathing retort, knowing that would not do anything to help their situation, Adela motioned for her companions to follow. She noticed - as did her fellows - that several of the Dalish fell in behind them, their bows trained upon them, ready to release arrows into their midst.
Not quite the welcome she had hoped for.
Alistair, seeming to sense the elf's unease, shifted closer to her, his amber eyes glancing down at her with concern every now and again. Adela was chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, a sign that she was agitated and worried.
The hunters led the strange group to a taller elven male, dressed in robes with an ornate staff holstered to his back. An intricate tattoo outlined his forehead and nose, giving him an almost hawkish countenance. His piercing gray eyes - so similar to her mother's - stared at the group, taking in the mismatch of race, mage, warrior and rogue. His eyes strayed longer upon Zevran's face, taking in the tattoo that traced his left cheek, and settling, finally, upon Adela's young face. She noticed the elven mage's face scrunch up slightly in thought, and she thought she saw a brief flicker of recognition cross his eyes. Both the thoughtful look and recognition vanished from his face, taking on a haughty stare.
"Ah, Mithra," he greeted the lead hunter as they stopped before him. "I see we have guests. Strangers," his eyes settled once again upon Adela. "Led by one of their elves, I see." The way he said 'their elves' left no doubt that to Adela that she had just been insulted.
"Indeed, Keeper," the one called Mithra responded, her eyes skimming over the heads of the group, as though to settle her eyes upon them would be an insult to her. "They claim to be Wardens, but I have seen nothing to indicate it to be so."
Adela frowned at that - wasn't Alistair carrying a shield with the Warden insignia? Did she and he not wear the Warden Oaths?
The Keeper nodded his hairless head, turning his attention back to the group. He turned his eyes to Zevran, ignoring Adela. "How may we be of assistance, then, Grey Warden?"
Zevran would have been amused, save that this arrogant elf had just insulted the woman who had spared his life and who was his friend. He lifted his chin defiantly, stating, "I am not a Grey Warden." he waved a hand toward Adela, who was standing, willing to wait for Zevran to speak. "The young lady here is the Warden Commander of Fereldan." The assassin finished with a deep bow to the younger elf, a smile on his face for her, his eyes only betraying the anger he felt toward to the Dalish Keeper.
Surprise clear in his eyes, the Keeper turned to the young elf. "Truly?" He did not sound convinced. "That one of the flat ears would lead the Grey Wardens?" He apparently thought Zevran to be Dalish.
Adela's spine stiffened, and she took a step forward, her blue eyes flashing. She was Adaia Mahareil's daughter. She would not let this man talk down to her.
"I am Adela Mahariel Tabris," she said, her voice strong and clear. She was pleased to see a look of actual recognition and slight respect cross the Keeper's face. "I am the appointed Commander of the Grey here in Fereldan," she reached into her pouch, pulling forth the treaty that obligated the Dalish. "This," she held it out to the keeper, "is a treaty obligating the Dalish - you - to come to our aid during a Blight." She lifted her chin higher. "You have been summoned, Keeper, and therefore must contact other clans and see to your duty."
She thought she heard Morrigan snicker a bit from the back; and she could almost hear the 'good for you' in that sound. Adela had to admit it, she rather liked ordering the self-important Keeper about. She schooled her features into an impassive mask, watching as the myriad of emotions crossed the elder elf's face, containing a smirk when she noticed the surrounding hunters' faces drop in incredulous expressions.
Adela decided she did not wish to join a Dalish clan any longer, if this was how they treated any elf seeking them.
She watched as the Keeper swallowed somewhat, and she believed it must have been some of his pride. He bowed respectfully to her. "I am Zathrian," he said, his voice smooth, "Keeper of this Clan." He rose, his eyes again searching her features. "I take it you are Adaia Mahareil's daughter?"
Adela did well to hide her surprise and nodded her head slightly.
"Your mother was well known to us," he continued. "She was a fierce Hunter, and represented her clan well. Her brother was the Keeper of their clan and ruled wisely, until his untimely death at the hands of shemlen and flat ears," He ignored the raised brow of the younger elf. "We had all thought Adaia killed during the Shemlens' rebellion against their conquerors."
Adela smiled, "Mamae fought alongside the Fereldan King and helped win back the land for his people," she explained. "She met and married my father, a craftsman. She became the protector of the Denerim Alienage, until her death."
Zathrian smirked slightly, then bowed his head, "Ah. Such was Adaia. Always wanting to protect those far weaker than herself." His eyes searched Adela's. "Of course it would lead to her death."
Not wanting to get into this kind of a conversation, Adela pushed the issue of the treaty. "Keeper, we have a Blight to contend with. Whatever your feelings regarding humans and those elves born away from the clans is not an issue…"
"True," the Keeper replied, raising a hand, cutting off whatever Adela was going to say. "However, our clan is in no position to help you. You may well need to continue your search for another clan to spread the word of the Blight."
No, no…"No," she responded firmly, a frown on her face as she stepped closer. The nearby hunters shifted, making ready to protect their Keeper. "We have a treaty that obligates you, Zathrian," she maintained a steady hold on her rising temper. She'd dealt with human nobles who were not so obstinate. "You will be in a position to promise your warriors, you will contact the other clans," she stood toe to toe with the elder now, and he took a step back away from her. "You will take a stand against the Blight as I order, as these treaties signed by the Clans necessitate you perform your duty by them."
There was a moment of utter silence and extreme tension. Even the sounds coming from the main bulk of the camp seemed not able to penetrate the ominous hush where the companions stood, where the young elf confronted the elder Keeper of the Dalish clan. It was Zathrian who broke the silence, deep regret, an almost hesitant respect in his voice.
"I apologize, Commander," he said softly. "But our clan is in no position to assist as the treaty demands." He frowned. "Come, I shall explain our situation." And he led the group deeper into the camp, flanked by several of his hunters.
As they trekked further into the Dalish camp, each of the companions took note of the many sick elves lying about on makeshift cots set up in open tents. Adela noticed that there were no children running about, and that the atmosphere within the camp was subdued, almost funereal.
Frowning, she quickened her pace to match step with the Keeper, waiting for him to find his voice to explain what was going on.
When he did find his voice to explain, Adela found she did not like what was being said.
The Dalish had been attacked - ambushed - by a pack of werewolves that inhabited the nearby trees. Many of the clan's folk had been injured or killed. Those who lay sick in the camp were waiting - waiting to die, to submit to the curse and become werewolves, waiting to recuperate. For his people's own protection, Zathrian had forbidden any to enter the Forest, and so they sat, waiting for death or worse to settle upon them.
Adela frowned. The stories her mother told her of the Dalish did not include a willingness to sit down and wait for death. That they did nothing to better their circumstance screamed out as wrong to the young elf. Especially when Zathrian explained that by hunting and killing the source of the curse - this Witherfang - would end their suffering.
"So why do you sit here waiting for death?" the angered elf demanded, turning back to face the Keeper. She felt pity for the clan, that much was true. But to sit there and die? And they had the nerve to belittle the elves that were city born? She scoffed at his weak explanation that they could not afford to loose any others.
"So, I suppose you want us to go in and take care of this Witherfang?" Adela snarked out, not meaning to be cruel, but finding her temper rising too quickly to contain it.
"If you wish for our assistance against the Blight," the Keeper responded.
Adela turned her back to the man. She hated that so many of these people - her mother's people - were suffering. But, they had been delayed so much by now, and still had to find the Urn to save the Arl. "Are there any other clans in the area?" she asked, her voice level, completely ignoring the astonished gasps and looks several of her companions shot her way. She turned slowly to study the Keeper's face.
He nodded, his face an impassive mask. "There are several to the south, one to the north," he responded, frowning. "Although those to the south may have encountered darkspawn…" he frowned, turning his sight toward the south, as though he could see the clans he spoke of. "Your mother's clan is the one to the north, closer to the area the Shemlen call Highever."
Roland stiffened somewhat at the mention of Highever.
Adela bowed her head. She did not like the idea of leaving these people to fend on their own. She could feel the eyes of Alistair, Roland, Leliana and Niall upon her; Morrigan and the Sten merely waiting quietly awaiting her order. Zevran was busy trying to stare down the Keeper that he said nothing nor gave anything away on what he was thinking.
Hafter bumped against the small elf, whining slightly as he settled upon her feet. Absentmindedly, she reached down to scratch between his ears.
Raising her head, she replied, "We will agree to help you," this was accompanied by a slight growl from the Sten, but she easily ignored it. "But, you need to get messengers out to the other clans, advising them of the Blight and the treaty," she watched closely as the Keeper nodded his agreement, noting the relief that crossed his features. "Regardless of the outcome," she pointed at him, her eyes narrowing, "the Dalish will honor their obligations."
Zathrian looked as though to say something, but decided against whatever words he had in mind. Slowly, he nodded, calling Mithra nearer, advising her to gather several runners. With a slight bow, he turned from the group, seeking out his own aravel to compose missives to the nearby clans.
Feeling slightly sick, as though she had just ransomed every life in the clan, Adela turned to her companions to work out strategy for entering the legendary Brecilian Forest.
DA:O
Alistair was not happy. He scowled as he surveyed the supplies he and his fellows were pulling and packing deeper into their packs, pulling non-essentials out and leaving them in the tent the Keeper had provided them for their unnecessary items.
Adela had suggested that the party split into two groups to search out the areas of the forest. It was not this decision he was unhappy with. It made sense: she had argued they had lost enough time as it was, and that searching two areas of the forest simultaneously would cut the time they spent searching out Witherfang and the werewolves. Alistair agreed with that decision, actually.
What he was unhappy about was that he would be leading one group while she the other.
Alistair never liked it when he was separated from Adela.
He was even more unhappy when their fearless leader proclaimed that Alistair's group would consist of Leliana, Morrigan, and Sten. Her group would consist of Roland, Zevran and Niall. Of course Hafter would be part of her group as well.
He did not like the idea that Roland would be with her without Alistair being present to run interference. Even worse that she had Zevran in her group as well. He glanced down at his now full pack, frowning. A sudden thought came to mind, and that frown turned upwards to a smile.
Grinning almost goofily (and he knew it, too), the Warden went in search of his Commander.
He found her rearranging her own pack, handing several packets of elfroot and flasks over to Niall for the mage to place into his own pack. The elf looked up at her friend, smiling at him as she pulled the cinch tight on her pack and rose.
"Everything all set?" she asked as she dusted off her hands and turned to face the other Warden.
Alistair nodded, still grinning at her. Adela quirked an elegant brow at him in an unspoken question.
"You know," Alistair replied smoothly, moving closer to the elf, the grin smoothing out to a smile. "I've been thinking…"
"Now there's a turn for the better," Morrigan muttered as she swept past the pair to procure some of the elfroots from Niall's pack.
Alistair chose to ignore the irritating witch, his attention fully upon the lovely elf standing before him. Adela merely smirked at the witch before turning back to Alistair.
"What have you been thinking, Alistair?" Adela prompted, still not taking in the smile her fellow Warden wore plastered upon his handsome face.
"About our bet," he quipped out, stepping just slightly nearer. A sense of satisfaction flowed through him as he noticed the hesitant look cross Adela's face as she lifted her face to his.
Cautiously, she asked, "What about it?" She did not seem to notice that the pair had their companions' attentions, especially Roland's. Alistair did notice it.
"Well, you see…this whole situation with the Dalish," he swept out a hand to encompass the camp. "This, to me, suggests that I won our bet. You know, that something would come up so that procuring the treaty wouldn't be all that easy." He grinned widely. "No time saved here."
That pinking of her cheeks Alistair enjoyed so much rose, and she asked in a very soft voice, "And you mean to collect on it…now?" she looked quickly about them, noticing the others, her blush rising even deeper. If his scowl was any indication, it was obvious that Roland noticed the change in Adela's coloring.
Nodding, he stepped very close, putting his hands on her shoulders, a thumb rubbing against where her neck and shoulder joined. "I think now is as good a time as any." He almost breathed this part out, feeling a certain tightness in his throat. As outwardly calm and confident as he may outwardly have seemed, he was far from feeling how he looked.
"In front of everyone?" she asked, almost in a whisper, before biting her lower lip.
Nodding, Alistair merely bent his head down, bringing his lips to hers as his hands moved to the back of her head, pulling her closer, moving her head upwards to allow better access to her mouth. He wasn't going to just give her a quick kiss, as friendly as the ones she liked to bestow upon him.
It was nice that Adela relaxed against him.
His lips enclosed upon her lower lip, pulling it from her teeth and he gently sucked on it for a moment before moving his lips to cover her mouth. He more felt than heard the sigh that came from the elf in his arms, and he took that as encouragement. Deepening the kiss, he pressed her against him, his tongue slipping out to sweep over her soft lips. She tasted of honey and berries, most likely from their meal earlier. And her smell - she always had that clean scent of sweet fern about her, and he found his body reacting quite pleasantly to her. Her small hands rose to his chest, but not to push him away. Her own lips moved against his, starting to share in the kiss, when her blue eyes flew open and she gasped. The Warden pulled away reluctantly, staring into her blue eyes, now darkened to a deep sapphire. His body screamed out at the loss of contact. He watched as her eyes went from dark and passionate to confused, and she stammered out that she had to finish getting ready to leave, and hurriedly left his embracing arms.
Steadying himself, ordering his breathing to slow, his heart to stop pounding, the human Warden then took note of the almost triumphant look in Leliana's blue eyes, and heard the snickering and chuckles from Zevran, Niall and Morrigan. Roland shot him a look of pure and utter hatred, while, as always, the Sten merely looked bored.
Deciding he got his point across, Alistair smirked over at Leliana, whose smile widened and she gave him a quick wink, letting him know that he did good in her book. Zevran walked past, patting him on the shoulder, while Niall merely shook his head, trying hard not to further encourage the younger man.
Picking up his pack he glanced back at Roland. Suddenly, he was very pleased that the knight was not going to accompany him into the Forest. The look he gave the ex-templar was far from friendly.
However, Alistair could not make himself feel badly about it. Especially since Adela seemed to not only enjoy the kiss, but had started to return it as well. And the look that crossed her pretty face…that, too, gave him cause to hope that all was not lost.
He could not help but whistle as he gathered up the other party members and begin their trek into the surrounding trees.