To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect. ~Oscar Wilde

I love everyone's reaction to the Elissa/Howe pairing. Ahm…trust me, the thought of the two of them together kinda makes me cringe, but, the plot just got caught up in my little brain and would not let go.

As always, thanks for the alerts, favs, and, most especially, the wonderful reviews! The reviews not only give me a giggle, but inspiration to continue. Thanks go out to: celtic-twinkie (for my favorite in review comment; I laughed when I read your first line!), mutive, Nithu, Biff McLaughlin, tgail73, Shakespira, Eriana10, CCBug, zevgirl

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 40

Nelaros glared into the gloom, blood dripping from his arm, down his forearm, and to his fist. He risked a glance back to Loghain, who sported several wounds himself, but stood resolute and sure at his back. The human's pale eyes, too, scoured the foggy air, narrowing as he tried to focus his sight. With a sigh, the elf rubbed his hand, wiping away much of the blood to prevent his hand from slipping on his sword.

Loghain noticed the movement and moved forward, a tightly woven handkerchief in hand. "Take this," he instructed, handing the item over. Moving his sword to his shield hand, the elf took the cloth gratefully and wiped the blood fully from his hand. He rolled his shoulders slightly, unused to the heavy armor he now wore. Loghain stood, comfortable in the heavy plate Nelaros had found for him. The elf quelled a desire to shake his head. For some reason, the human still could not see weapons or armaments, or any other useful items, outside of his chambers.

"Do you see her?" the human asked as he turned his attention back to the gloom.

"No," the elf admitted, his own blue eyes narrowing into the darkness ahead. "But, I can hear her."

DA:O

In a few days - three at the most - they expected to be at Redcliffe. In the meantime, the pair had decided to walk a ways from the rest of their truncated group, to allow for some time alone before they regrouped with the others and resumed their quest.

They were alone, finally. Alistair reached over and gently took Adela's small hand in his own, leading her to the water's edge. Grinning up at the man, the elf laid out the blanket she carried, settling down to stare over the water.

The air had warmed substantially, the winter's snows almost completely melted away. The ground was almost soft, but still squishy with the snow's melt. Normally, Alistair would have enjoyed the sudden onslaught of Spring, however, the cause of this season's early melt had nothing to do with nature.

For above them, the skies whirled in dark grayness, angry clouds and lightening flashes that loomed night and day.

The Blight had come.

Blowing out a strained sigh, the young man settled beside his love, rubbing a hand down her arm before placing his arm about her shoulders. He smiled as she settled against him, her head resting just below his shoulder.

He knew that he should feel guilty, having found happiness and love during the worst of times in Fereldan's history, however, he could not and would not stifle the feeling that swelled in him.

With that thought, he bent his head down, taking Adela's soft lips with his own. The kiss started as searching at first, just soft lips and movement. Then the elven woman turned her slender body fully into his own, her hands rising up to entwine in his hair, moving down his neck. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling against each as the passion of the pair rose. Alistair pulled his love closer into his body, and she gasped as she felt his arousal through the fabric of his trousers. Alistair released her, and she looked into his eyes, rich amber now darkened to deep brown. She watched as he swallowed thickly.

"Adela," he started, his voice husky as he brought his lips back to hers.

She gasped as a warm feeling rose in her abdomen, rushing downwards in a fall of heat. She pressed herself more firmly against him, against his arousal, her tongue seeking deeper into his mouth.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, breathing heavy, eyes dilated and dark. Raising a hand, Alistair brushed it against her cheek, watching as her flushed skin deepened, feeling the heat of her flesh against his. "Adela," he repeated, moving closer, gazing down at her. "I want you," he murmured, "Maker knows I need you. But, if this is too fast for you…" he broke off as the elven woman in his arms practically leaped up, pressing her mouth, her body into his, rubbing against him in a manner that left no question in his mind that she wanted him as much as he did her.

But, still, he found himself pulling away from her yet again, his eyes searching her face, his breathing ragged, his face flushed and eyes dark.

Adela whined as Alistair stopped, lifting her face to his, her chest heaving. His eyes stared into hers intently, noting how dark and luminous her eyes had gotten. "Adela," he whispered, kissing her on her cheeks, then her mouth. "I don't want to…to bed you like you were some common trollop."

Adela's eyes took on an amused expression, and she smiled coyly up at him, her voice breathless. "Oh, really? I had never really thought of myself as common."

Grinning at her, hugging her tighter, Alistair breathed in the scent of her hair. "I love you, Adela." He pulled away so that he could watch her face. "I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. When you handed me that package of crumbly cheese…" his grin widened. "I knew I found the one woman who would completely understand me."

Her head tilted to the side, a curious expression upon her lovely face, Adela asked, "So, what are you trying to tell me, Alistair."

He swallowed thickly. "I…well," now he was nervous. Here they were, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies, possibly even considering doing more than simple kissing and petting, and now he was nervous? He cleared his throat, coughing a bit. Adela's blond brow rose slightly. The look in her eyes was one of profound love, interest and trust. She trusted him to care for her, to not merely use her. She trusted him to follow her orders, question them when he felt necessary, but to always do what she thought was best. In her position as Commander. Other than that, as a woman, she trusted him. He felt slightly light headed at that thought.

"Marry me," he blurted out past a throat quickly constricting, feeling the heat rise in his face.

She blinked, licking her bottom lip, her face flushing prettily. He repeated the request. "Marry me."

"Are you certain, Alistair?" she whispered, almost as though she was afraid of the question, as if she hadn't quite heard it properly or understood it.

Smiling like an idiot, Alistair nodded his head. "I love you, Adela. I can think of no one else I would rather spend my life with." He moved away then, setting her up as he slid to one knee beside her. He saw her blush deepen and felt giddy that he was the cause of it. He reached into the pocket at his breast, pulling forth a small pouch. He handed it to her, and repeated his request. "Marry me."

Almost hesitantly, the elf took the pouch, looking up into Alistair's warm eyes. A soft smile crossed her lips as she opened the pouch to reveal a lovely little band of gold, upon which was set a small chip of sapphire. She gasped at it, pulling it free of the pouch's folds.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, turning the band over in her fingers.

Alistair's warm fingers plucked it from her hands. "I saw this at that little jeweler stand back at Denerim," he said with a smile, staring at the ring in his hand. "and immediately was reminded of your eyes," he said as he took her left hand, sliding the ring onto her ring finger. Placing a finger under her chin, he raised her face to his.

"You have carried this ring since Denerim?" Adela asked, breathless, her eyes still upon the pretty ring her love held.

Alistair chuckled, nodding his red-gold head. Taking a breath, clearing his throat, he said. "Adela Tabris," he smiled at her astonished and gentle expression, "I know that we have not known each other for long, a mere few months. But, I know how I feel about you; I know how I will feel about you ten, twenty, thirty years from now." He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the back of it. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

She glanced at the ring now adorning her finger, and then looked back up into the face of the man she loved. It was true: they had only known each other a few scant months. And it had only been recently that she realized how strongly she felt for this wonderfully silly man. But, in the grand scheme, when she considered how little time either of them had before them, considered how much they had accomplished in those few short months, those months could seem an entire lifetime. She bit her lower lip, a beauteous smile crossed her lips, and she nodded. "Yes."

A groan of happiness escaped his lips as he clasped her against his chest, kissing her hair as he laughed with happiness. Adela giggled against the muscles of his chest, and he pulled her back to cover her mouth with his.

DA:O

The demon undulated before them, her hands roaming her body. She purred at Nelaros. "Come now," she cooed, "I can make your final moments pleasurable." She sidled closer, paying the naked blade in his hand little attention. "I can even give you the moments with her that you had so rightfully deserved."

The elf's blue eyes narrowed with hatred. "Do not think to sully her as such!" he snarled, raising the blade threateningly. He took note of Loghain's shifting movements behind him.

"Tsk, tsk," she scolded playfully, her red eyes sweeping over to Loghain, who glared at her with undisguised hatred. A cruel smile crossed her inhuman face as she floated closer to the human.

"It is so very interesting," she remarked, almost as an aside. "How differently the same woman can be seen by others." She grinned over at Nelaros. "You see her as bright and sunny, warm and everything you could imagine in a life's mate. A partner." That grin curved down into a frown, mocking, as she shook her flaming head at the elf. "Such a pedestrian view. But you," she turned to Loghain, her scolding tones softening. That mocking frown changed. A conniving smirk rose to her lips, and her eyes narrowed. "You see her as…" the smirk widened to a smile that took half her face with it. "Interesting, human. You see her as…"

"Enough!" Loghain shouted, his own blade and shield raised. "We shall hear no more of your tricks and lies, demon!"

Nelaros imitated the human's moves, anger and annoyance at Loghain raising in his chest. He wanted to know how the human lord saw his intended, but he had no desire to ask it of either him or the demon.

DA:O

"So, I see that Lady Cousland has returned to the fold," Arawn remarked as he scanned over the paperwork scattered across his desk. Technically, it was Loghain's desk, but as the Teyrn was currently…indisposed, the maleficar had decided he would look after the man's work.

Sniggering, Rendon Howe, looking thoroughly sated and as relaxed as the mage had ever seen his co-conspirator, settled into a large chair across from the ornate desk. "Indeed she has," he crooned, a smirk upon his craggy features. Arawn merely rolled his eyes and continued with his work.

The pair of men sat in silence for about an hour, Howe content to scan over some of the paperwork the mage had passed his way, Arawn signing Loghain's name to some orders regarding the Bannorn and troops.

Now the mage paused as his eyes scanned a document, its broken seal that of the Tevinter Magister. He consciously fought against the scowl that threatened to cross his face, managing to maintain an impassive appearance. The missive was simple: the mages were requesting more access to the Alienage. A sigh did escape his lips, and he glanced over, noticing Howe was still intent upon one missive from Bann Coerlic.

Settling back slightly, the mage watched the other man for a moment. As a blood mage, many would assume he the mastermind behind the Tevinter incursion into the Alienage. However, after his…tenure at the Circle Tower, he found slavery to be rather distasteful, and he doubted he would have considered the possibilities behind such a plan. There were many things the maleficar had no second thoughts in doing, however slavery was one of those issues he avoided.

It was Howe who had come devised the plan, inviting the Tevinters in to help raise funds for the armies. It was a brilliant plan, playing off well to the unrest of the Alienage since before Ostagar. The elves who had killed most of the guard in the manor had, unknowingly, assisted in his own plans for the throne.

That one of those same elves was now being used to help contain Loghain in his Fade prison made the plan even more delicious.

Smirking, the mage went back to his work, ordering more troops into the Bannorn to put down more uprisings.

DA:O

Roland ran his hands through his newly cut red hair. Since his captivity at Highever Castle, his hair had been longer than it had ever been. At first, he had been reluctant to cut it, as a tribute to those who had perished at the hands of Howe and his men. However, he felt the need for some normalcy, and so had one of the Arlessa's maids cut it back from the long braid he had taken to wearing it in to just below his chin.

Normalcy. He grimaced at the thought as he turned his attention to the battlements of Redcliffe Castle. What an odd term during the Blight. His eyes wandered upwards, staring at the gray and black clouds, the Blight darkened sky. It was only noon, and the sky was darkened enough in reminisce of twilight. He frowned.

His time, along with the other companions, had been spent in meditation, practice and rest. However, the winter months had made him and the others more restless than restful. Even Artemis, a mage more used to time spent in the unchanging environment that was the Tower found himself growing more resentful of the wasted time.

The elven mage now walked up to the former knight, his long fingered hands gripping the stone of the battlements low wall. He stared with wide eyes at the Blighted skies, and then turned fully the human man.

"I want to join the Grey Wardens," he blurted out, none of his usual lightheartedness in his manner. He stood straight, serious, no hint of his perpetual smirk upon his fine features.

Blinking, Roland turned to the other man. "Are you certain?" he found himself asking, frowning slightly at the question. The elf nodded, turning his attention back to the skies.

"You need every Warden you can get," the elf said, his soft voice firm. Roland was surprised by the change in the elf's demeanor. During the months they had spent together, Roland had found the younger man to be flirty, mischievous, and totally devoid of any serious quality. The former knight had even gotten used to the elf's flirtatious nature toward him, actually laughing of many of the innuendo the elf purred in his direction. This change in his behavior told the young man just how sincere the elf was in joining the ranks of the Wardens.

So, he found himself nodding, saying, "Once Adela and Alistair return," and they will, he added to himself, "we shall speak to them about the joining."

Artemis nodded his fair head, turning back to the battlement wall, his hands clasped before him.

And both pair of eyes watched as the Blight clouds roiled and sparked overhead.

DA:A

The Pride Demon stumbled back, a wide gash in her upper arm from where Nelaros' blade cut deep. She attempted to cast a spell freezing the upstart elf, but had to duck away, twisting, from Loghain's blade and shield. Snarling, she up righted, raising her hands, a blast of icy cold enveloping the elven warrior. The chill permeated Nelaros to his core, and he could feel his life draining away. He could only watch as Loghain's shield bashed into the back of the female demon, knocking her to the ground with a shout.

Warmth returned to his extremities, and Nelaros flexed his fingers around the hilt of his borrowed longsword. The demon had regained her feet far quicker than either man would have liked, and she now stood, snarling at the pair. Unsteady on his feet, the elven warrior swayed slightly, grimacing at the pinpricks danced along his feet and shins. His fingers tingled unpleasantly, but he raised his sword and shield, determination filling his heart to destroy this abomination.

Loghain had the same idea, and he let out a great war cry, "For Fereldan!" and launched himself at the evil entity that tormented them.

Sword slashed out, and the demon tilted her upper body away, barely avoiding serious damage. With a hiss, she rose, her feet several inches from the ground as she waved her arms to let loose a spell. An icy fog settled over Loghain, but he managed to shrug it off and carry through with his strike. His sword flashed, dripping blood as it dug a furrow across the demon's near naked chest. The silvery shield was bashed forward, striking her fully in the face. Bone and cartilage crunched as her nose broke and bent, and with a shriek, she stumbled away from the awful human and his blood weapon.

The elf, smaller and more nimble than the human, danced behind the demon, his own sword swiping outwards, cutting a gash across her shoulder blades. Black ichor oozed from the wounds, and she lurched forward, falling to the ground before the elf's shield could increase the damage done.

With a screech of rage, the demon rose to her feet, and, with a dramatic wave of her hands, vanished from sight.

Breathing hard, gasping for air, both men stared at the empty space, confusion alight in their eyes. After taking a deep, steadying breath, Nelaros turned to face Loghain. The human stared at the space for a moment longer before returning the elf's look.

Apparently, the demon had not been ready to admit defeat. With a shrug, Loghain led the elf back to his chambers, hoping for some time for them both to recuperate from their battle.