As before, the men rose from their chairs upon our arrival. I caught Grayson's eye and his eyebrow twitched as he looked me up and down, before giving me an appreciative nod. Leliana giggled beside me.

"Just as I thought." She whispered in my ear, and I followed her line of sight, to see Alistair gaping at me, slack-jawed. I could feel the blush rising in my cheeks as I met his eyes, and he cleared his throat as I approached. There was an empty seat beside him and another across from him, beside Grayson. I flashed him a smile, but took the chair next to Grayson, for appearances sake, leaving Leliana to sit beside him. Morrigan and Wynne were still absent, I noticed, but there were no empty places set for them, so I figured that meant they weren't planning on joining us. I had to admit I was a little concerned about Wynne, but she had had a hectic few days on the road with us and a traumatic few days before that, she would need to be rested for the coming journey.

"Where's Morrigan?" I asked, as I took my seat.

"She said she'd rather eat alone." Grayson replied, and I thought I heard a hint of annoyance in his tone. I decided not to press the issue.

Leliana thanked Lady Isolde again for her generosity, and I looked at Teagan, hopefully, but he shook his head, apologetically. Well, shit. It looked like we were going to Denerim after all. I sighed, quietly, but forced a smile back onto my face. If I was going to spend the next month travelling, I was going to make the most of tonight, and I'd had such a good day, I wasn't going to let anything spoil my mood.

Once we had all said our hellos, Teagan stood, assuming his role as temporary head of the household, and thanked us all for the second night in a row for our aid. I wondered if nobles ever grew tired of speechifying, but by the way he was going on I very much doubted it.

The moment the food was brought out I immediately regretted the corset. There was a large, roast ham on a bed of veg, roast potatoes, gravy...everything a growing Warden needs. Our goblets were filled with wine - in my opinion a huge improvement from the ale the night before - and soon the hall was full of the sounds of glasses clinking and cutlery scraping as we all dug in. I ate as much as the corset would allow, taking time to join in the conversation around the table in an effort to distract myself from all of the food I wouldn't be able to eat.

After the meal, the entertainment was brought in. I waved in greeting when I saw Henk and the woman he had played with earlier, as they filed into the room with several other minstrels and started to play. The songs were long and slow and boring, and of course I didn't recognise any of them, but they were played beautifully and I was well on my way to being wine-drunk, so I clapped along with everyone else, smiling and enjoying the atmosphere. Leliana hummed or sang along quietly to most of the songs, and I could tell she wanted to be up there performing along with them.

Conversation around the table was light and upbeat, none of us willing to taint the jovial atmosphere with talk of the journey ahead. Alistair asked Zevran about his tattoos, a conversation I vaguely recognised so I figured it must have featured in the game, but it was such a faint memory that I could have convinced myself it was nothing more than deja vu. Teagan engaged Leliana in quiet conversation, and she laughed and flirted coquettishly. I didn't think she was into him, but she seemed to be enjoying the attention. I grinned, looking around the table, and caught Sten staring at me. He didn't flinch or look away when I caught his eye, he just continued to stare. I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay, but he spoke first.

"I don't understand. You look like a woman." He said, as if he'd only just noticed. I smiled, slowly. Now this conversation, I definitely remembered.

"Occasionally." I replied, dismissively, taking another sip of wine but maintaining steady eye contact. I figured Qunari were a bit like horses in that they could sense fear, so whenever Sten and I spoke I made a point of puffing my chest out...figuratively speaking, of course.

"You are a Grey Warden, so it follows that you can't be a woman."

"Huh?" Alistair screwed his face up in confusion. I looked around, realising that the deep baritone of the Qunari's voice had carried easily over the other sounds of song and conversation, and the rest of the table were watching our exchange. I turned back to him, recalling that this conversation had the potential to provoke his ire.

"The two things are not mutually exclusive." I said, delicately.

"Women are priests, artisans, shopkeepers or farmers. They do not fight."

"Men are also artisans, shopkeepers and farmers. In Tevinter, men are priests. Why is the idea of a woman fighting so different?" Leliana frowned, obviously offended.

"Why would women ever wish to be men? That makes no sense."

"I do not wish to be a man. I am a woman who fights." She replied, narrowing her eyes.

"One of those things cannot be true."

"You would deny that which you have seen with your own eyes?" Leliana fumed. "You told us that you are the eyes and the ears of the Arishok. Perhaps you should practice looking and listening. You have fought alongside us. We are women who choose to fight."

"That is why I ask." Sten growled, unphased, though he did seem to be growing increasingly frustrated that we hadn't given him a satisfactory answer to his question yet. "A person is born: qunari, or human, or elven, or dwarf. He doesn't choose that."

"Well...I can't speak for all women, so I'll just answer based on my own experience." I said, brightly, cutting Leliana off before she exploded. The feminist in me wanted to tear him a new one, but I knew it was ridiculous to hold the Qunari to my standards. I reminded myself that feminism should be intersectional, and in this world, that had to include understanding and accepting the very different mindset of the Qunari without imposing my own world view on his, as difficult as that might be. He wasn't being sexist or intolerant. He wasn't trying to offend. He genuinely wanted to understand. "Honestly? I'm a Grey Warden because I got infected by darkspawn taint and my choices were become a Grey Warden or die."

"I didn't know that." Leliana said, curiously. Grayson and Alistair nodded in confirmation, all three of us cringing a little at the memory, and I continued.

"As for being a fighter...I can't say that having breasts has ever robbed me of my ability to wield a weapon. In my experience, women are powerful. Look at Leliana. Morrigan. Even Wynne. She may be a healer, but nobody can deny that that woman is a warrior."

"Hear hear." Zevran muttered quietly, raising his glass.

"A woman cannot be a warrior." Sten insisted, stubbornly.

"Outside of the Qun, a person can be whatever they choose to be." I replied, softly. "Just because it's different doesn't make it wrong. It just makes it...different. And variety is the spice of life, after all. It would be boring if we were all the same. I'm sure the Arishok will be interested to hear how different our cultures can be. You'll have lots to tell him when you return to Par Vollen."

He studied me for a moment, with an unreadable expression on his face, before nodding infinitesimally.

"Perhaps." He said, leaning back in his chair, with an air of finality that signalled the end of the conversation. I smiled to myself, pleased with what I knew was a positive reaction from him. I caught Alistair's eye and he threw me a lopsided grin. I was grateful that even with all of the changes that were happening between the two of us, there didn't seem to be any awkwardness between us when we were with everyone else.

Conversation picked back up again, and I settled in my seat, watching, drinking and listening, tapping my foot along to the background music absentmindedly. When the minstrels were finished playing, we gave them a standing ovation, with the exception of Sten, who had given no indication that he'd even noticed them, and as they started to pack away their things, Henk caught my eye and I grinned, offering another friendly wave. He returned my smile, before picking his lute back up and playing a few notes of a familiar song. He raised his eyebrows, in a silent question, and I shook my head, with a dismissive laugh. He played the next few notes, slowly, his eyebrow raising in a mock challenge, and I shook my head again, more insistently. He continued playing as he approached the table, and I saw Lady Isolde sniff, clearly offended by his boldness.

"This is Henk." I announced to the table, rising from my seat to meet him. "We met earlier today."

"You look radiant, my Lady." He said, with a bow of his head.

"I woke up like this." I replied, with an exaggerated hair toss. Nobody laughed. Not every joke landed in Ferelden.

"You played beautifully, Henk." Leliana gushed.

He nodded, gratefully.

"We did a little more than just meet earlier." Henk said, plucking notes on his lute as he spoke, almost instinctively. "Lady Lauren has a wonderful singing voice. We caused quite a stir in the square with the music we made together."

He had a peculiar way of talking, a rhythm to his speech that was unique and jarring, though not unpleasant.

"I didn't know you could sing, Lauren." Leliana exclaimed, as though personally offended that she was hearing about my talents from another minstrel. I couldn't help but grin at her accusatory expression.

"Not half as well as you can, mon amie." I assured her, honestly.

"But then, you must sing for us." Teagan insisted, his cheeks flushed red with alcohol.

I started to protest, but the rest of them joined in, taunting and teasing me until I agreed. I was pretty drunk by this point in the evening, or I probably wouldn't have had the nerve.

Henk moved to stand at the foot of the table, and I reluctantly followed him, cringing in embarrassment, the heat emanating off my face in waves. I touched my cheeks, looking at Grayson.

"Am I bright red?" I grinned.

"Just a touch." He grinned back. "What's there to be embarrassed about? It's only us."

"You're right." I replied, thoughtfully. "I don't care what any of you think of me."

"Charming." Lady Isolde said, haughtily.

"She's joking, Isolde." Teagan said, in a weary voice that I hadn't heard him use before. Seeing the way he rolled his eyes at her gave me life, and I suddenly felt as confident as Miley Cyrus was when she cut all her hair off and made out with a foam finger on global television.

I sang the first verse acapella, as it should have been, and by the time I was on the second line I had the rapt attention of my audience. I saw Grayson and Alistair exchange a look of surprise. I grinned to myself, spurred on by that feeling. God, that feeling when you're singing and people are really listening. There's nothing else quite like it in the world. Henk started to play, and I sang along, really going for it this time. I didn't just sing, I performed. I'm pretty sure at one point I did a real life Backstreet Boys air grab. I didn't care. I was feeling it.

With the exception of Sten, who didn't acknowledge what was happening and Lady Isolde, whose facial expression was cold and uptight, everyone seemed to get into it. My companions whooped and clapped in encouragement as my voice grow stronger, and Leliana tapped out a complimentary rhythm on the table top, harmonising with me at the chorus, as one of the floutists from Henk's ensemble approached us, chiming in so seamlessly and naturally that I felt the song wouldn't have been complete without the accompaniment of her flute and Leliana's voice. The music around me swelled as I reached the crescendo of the final chorus, belting for all I was worth.

When the song finished, Henk and the flutist each took one of my hands and the three of us bowed as one. I rose out of the bow, breathless and laughing, feeling exhilarated, and the feeling only intensified when I met Alistair's eyes. He was staring at me as though he was seeing me for the first time as the table erupted into enthusiastic applause. I couldn't have wiped the smile off of my face if I'd tried, and I turned to hug Henk, gratefully.

"Thank you for bullying me into doing that." I grinned, as I pulled away. "It was fun."

"The next time you're in Redcliffe…" He said, brandishing his lute pointedly.

"Of course. I'd love to jam with you again sometime."

"Jam?"

"Starkhaven slang. I'd love to sing with you again. I'll be sure to look you up, when we return. If the boss gives me another day off, that is." I said, glancing at Grayson, who rolled his eyes.

The minstrels left and conversation returned. Lady Isolde excused herself at the first opportunity, leaving Teagan with us, and we continued drinking well into the night. It occured to me only once that drinking heavily the night before setting off on a month long journey probably wasn't the best idea, and I wondered absently if there was a Fereldan equivalent of traffic police that might pull us over and write us up for riding while intoxicated, but that just provoked images of Sten attempting to walk in a straight line while trying to touch his nose and I just laughed to myself and kept drinking.

Leliana was the first to be sent to bed by our fearless leader for being too drunk, and she exited with a clumsy curtsey, giggling to herself. She was followed shortly after by Zevran, who had fallen asleep and was snoring at the table. Bann Teagan sent himself to bed, with a hiccup, leaving only Grayson, Alistair, Sten and I.

"I'm impressed that you can keep up." Grayson teased me, his words slurring and his eyes glazing as they had the night before. I scoffed, or tried to, but I was so drunk that I dribbled a little on my chin. I blinked, screwing my face up in disgust at myself and clumsily wiped my chin with my hand.

"Why is it...right...no, shh listen, shut up. Shut up." I commanded, frustrated that they weren't listening to the very valid point I was trying to make.

"What?" Alistair grinned, bleary eyed.

"Okay, why is it...that drunk people...always have wet chins?" I held my arms out, certain that I had just said something very profound. "No, think about it. Have you ever seen a drunk person with a dry chin? No. Always wet. Always the chin. Always."

Sten chortled, uncharacteristically.

"She is right. Humans always have...wet chins." He said, with a deep, rumbling laugh. I pointed at him.

"Yes, Sten. Yes." I said, seriously, as the two men howled at the Qunari's reaction. "You have to tell the Arishok." I crumbled, dissolving into fits of laughter with the other two. Sten snorted in amusement, raising his glass in acknowledgement.

"Live your best life, drunk people!" I exclaimed, to nobody in particular. "Never let a wet chin stop you from achieving your dreams."

"I think this drunk person should go to bed." Grayson said, clapping a hand to my shoulder. "We'll never wake you up in the morning, otherwise."

"Like that's anything new." Alistair said, making a face at me.

"You are…" Grayson started to laugh. "The worst person to wake up in the morning."

"Terrifying." Alistair agreed. "Send me a hundred darkspawn to fight before you send me to wake Lauren."

"Am not." I argued.

"Are too." The two men replied in unison, and I looked to Sten for support, but he nodded. I noticed at this point his eyes were closed more often than they were open, like a drunk uncle, but he filled his goblet again, clearly with no intention of stopping anytime soon.

"Well…" I shrugged. "Look, sleeping is everything. I just...I have a very active dream life, okay? I have to be there lots." I said with a hiccup. "I can jump so high there." I muttered, wistfully.

"Alright, dreamer." Grayson chuckled, rising unsteadily to his feet. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"I'll take you." Alistair said, scraping his seat back.

"Take me to where?" I demanded. "To a land where that's an okay thing to say to a grown woman? I am grown. I'll decide."

The two men exchanged looks, before clearly deciding it wasn't worth the fight, and taking their seats again. Now that there was no argument to be had, I sighed, suddenly exhausted.

"Actually, I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

Grayson slumped forward on the table, shaking his head, as I stood. I swayed and fell back into my seat, slipping my heels off and standing back up, steadier now that I was barefoot.

"Goodnight." I said, leaning forward and planting a sloppy kiss on the back of Grayson's head, before stumbling around to the other side of the table and squeezing Sten's head, affectionately, and then practically falling into Alistair's lap, pulling him in to kiss him on the cheek. I was so drunk that I almost planted one right on his lips, but I remembered at the last moment that I was supposed to be being discreet.

"Okay, Alistair, you have to walk her up. I'm worried she'll break her neck falling down the stairs." Grayson said, in all seriousness. I narrowed my eyes across the table at him, holding onto Alistair's shoulder for support as I twisted my body to glare at him.

"I...am a warrior." I insisted, thumping my chest.

"Okay, Alistair, please escort our warrior queen to her chambers." Grayson replied. I screwed my face up at him, but allowed Alistair to help me to my feet and accepted his proffered arm as he led me from the room. He took my shoes from me, allowing me to use my other arm for balance, and we only made it as far as the foot of the stairs before I started babbling.

"I like you." I grinned up at him, dreamily. He laughed, lightly brushing a finger over the tip of my nose.

"I like you too." He said back, smiling down at me. I closed my eyes and pouted, waiting for him to kiss me. When no kiss came, I cracked one eye open to see him staring at me, uncertainly.

"What? Do I...do I have red wine mouth?" I asked, covering my mouth with my hand.

"No...well, yes, but we all do. It's not that, it's just...you've had a lot to drink." He said, apologetically.

"Hence the red wine mouth."

"Yes, and I just don't think it would be right for me to...you know, it would feel a lot like taking advantage."

I started to argue, but decided that actually, that was no less than I expected of him.

"Good." I said, as we started walking again. "I like that. You're nice. You're nice and you're kind and you're funny...and you're good at killing things. All...all the things. And you're handsome."

"I am?" He replied, in that deep, mischievous but bashful voice that was just so Alistair.

"And you're so...ripped. Like...boys back home aren't ripped like that." I said, now talking only to myself. "And when they are, they're mostly just awful. That's what I think, I think it's like...what are you doing? You work in IT, Brendan, there is no requirement for you to be that jacked. You're not suddenly going to have to start defending your home from invading Vikings. You know?"

"No. I don't know." He said, amused, clearly thinking these were just more drunk ramblings. Which they were, to a point.

"That's okay." I assured him. "Sometimes people don't know what I'm talking about. It's like I'm from another world." I said, with a hysterical giggle.

"Well, if you are, it's a world I'd like to live in." He said, kindly. I patted his arm.

"See? Such a nice, nice boy." I said. "Your mum, oh, she'd be so proud of you. If I had a son who was as good as you, I'd be hyped."

"Do you really think so? I mean, I know we're both pretty drunk right now, but...do you really mean that?" He asked, hopefully.

"Are you kidding? Aw, Alistair, she'd be so proud of you." A sudden thought struck me and I gasped, extracting my arm from his. "I have something for you."

He looked alarmed as I reached into my cleavage, but his expression morphed from alarm to confusion to recognition to disbelief as I handed him the amulet.

"My mother's amulet? How did you...where did you…?"

"Arl Eamon's desk. I found it while I was snooping." I said, watching him as he studied it intensely.

"Then he must have found the amulet after I threw it at the wall. And he repaired it and kept it? I don't understand, why would he do that?" He asked, more to himself than to me.

"I guess even bad dads have their good moments. He obviously cared about you in his own way." I said, struggling to be as eloquent as I would have liked to be in this moment.

"Thank you. I mean it. I thought I'd lost this to my own stupidity. I'll have to talk to him about this if he...when...he recovers. I wish I'd know about this a long time ago. I can't believe I told you about this this morning and I have it in my hands tonight, after all this time. Where did you come from Lauren Duval?" He breathed, looking down at me with a sort of reverence that nearly knocked me off my feet.

"I told you." I said, slowly. "I'm from another world."

"You know? I could really believe that." He said, holding his arm out again for me to take. "You're not like anyone else I've ever met."

We walked the rest of the way to my room in companionable silence, stealing glances at one another.

It was only when we arrived at my room and he walked me over to the bed that I realised I had a problem. He was halfway to the door when I decided there was nothing else for it.

"Um...Alistair?"

"Hello." He replied, spinning back round to face me.

"I need help."

"With what?"

"My corset." I replied, wincing.

"Oh." He said, nonchalantly, before realisation dawned on his face. He took deep breath. "Oh."

We stood in silence for a while, staring at each other, before Alistair shook his head, grinning.

"You're winding me up, aren't you?" He laughed, wagging his finger at me. "That was a good one. You almost got me there!"

"What? No, Alistair, I seriously can't get out of this by myself. Look!" I spun around to show him the intricate lacework at the back, straining my arms behind me to demonstrate that I couldn't reach. "This thing restricts movement. I can't sleep in it, and everyone else is already asleep, unless you'd rather fetch Grayson or Sten."

"Lauren…" He started, and I turned back to face him. He looked torn, like he was fighting an internal battle with himself.

"Alistair." I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm not asking you to undress me. Just loosen the laces! You won't even see skin."

He hovered, looking unconvinced, but I was too drunk and too tired, and my patience was evaporating.

"Don't be such a baby." I sighed, striding over to him and turning around again, folding my arms in annoyance. For a moment, he didn't move, and I was about to kick him out and ask Grayson for help when I felt him stir behind me. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the laces, and it took about the twice the length of time for him to loosen them as it had for the handmaiden who trussed me up to tie them, but we got there in the end. The corset stayed in place, but it was loose enough that I could wriggle out of it after he left.

When he was done, he brushed his hand lightly over my shoulder, and I shivered despite the warm air in the room. Wordlessly, he traced his fingers across the bare skin of my upper back to my neck, and into my hair. My breath hitched in my throat at his gentle touch, and he slowly, carefully, started to remove the pins from my hair, allowing little sections of it to fall across my shoulders in loose curls. I wasn't sure if it was the way my sensitive scalp tingled pleasantly with the release of each tight pin, or if it was just him, his touch, his fingers running through my hair, but there was something deeply intimate about it. When finally, the last pin was removed, I gently shook my hair out, turning to face him. His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked down at me, and my heart raced with anticipation as we gazed into each other's eyes in the silent half-light of the room. He reached a hand out and stroked my cheek, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, his gaze flickering slowly from my eyes to my lips.

"Kiss me." I whispered, when I could no longer stand it.

"But…" He started to protest, half-heartedly, and I shushed him, reaching up and tracing my fingers along his jawline.

"I've been thinking about you all day, about this morning." I confessed, softly.

"I've thought of little else." He breathed, searching my face for any hint of reluctance, and finding none. "I've worried that...that maybe it was too soon, that you…was it? Too soon?"

"Yesterday you told me to take all the time I needed to think. I have. I've made my decision. Kiss me." I whispered again, more insistently this time.

Even with the intensity of my own need for him in that moment, the urgency of his lips on mine took my breath away. His hands didn't roam over my body, unbidden, like I was used to with the few boys I had kissed back home. I had never been kissed like this before. It was raw and intense, but gentle and almost reverent at the same time. I pressed my body to his, running my hands up his back, the thick material of his doublet only hinting at the hard muscle underneath. The kiss deepened as he explored my mouth with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped my lips.

He gasped and pulled away, apologising under his breath. He rested his forehead on mine, closing his eyes. We stayed that way for a few moments, holding each other, before he straightened up and placed a light kiss on the top of my head.

I looked up at him, and a boyish, lopsided grin broke through the serious expression on his face. I returned his smile, with a giddy laugh, and he sighed, cupping my face with his hand.

"Maker's breath, but you're beautiful." He murmured. "I am a lucky man." He planted a final, soft kiss on my lips, before taking a step backwards. "I'd better let you get some sleep, else I'll be blamed for your exhaustion in the morning." He said, with a wink.

"Sleep. Yes. That's probably...smart."

With a smile he bid me goodnight. After he closed the door quietly behind him I staggered backwards, collapsing onto the bed.

"Sleep!" I repeated to myself. "How the hell am I supposed to sleep after that?" It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. I ran my hands through my hair and slapped my cheeks gently, trying to clear my mind. I may have been drunk, but his kiss was more intoxicating than any wine. I groaned, forcing myself to stand and proceeded to battle with the corset, pulling it down over my hips and stepping out of it. Even in my drunk and discombobulated state, I still had the presence of my mind to gather up the garment and drape it neatly across the ottoman at the foot of the bed, so as to avoid creasing, before flopping down on the bed.

I was wearing ridiculous looking bloomers that came all the way down to my ankles, and a linen smock which just barely covered my breasts, specifically designed so as not to be seen under the low-cut corset. I had zero motivation to stand up again and lay there, half-dressed, on top of the covers, just breathing in the darkness. I raised my hands to massage my aching breasts - corsets really aren't built for comfort - and frowned down at my body when my fingers came into contact with the folded up parchment which was now stuck to my skin. I peeled it off, suddenly feeling a strange pang of guilt when I thought of Cullen. I shook off the feeling, knowing that I was being ridiculous.

It almost feels like I'm texting an ex while hooking up with someone new. Which of course is utterly mental, Duval. I'm not doing anything wrong by keeping a penpal. He's a good man - flawed - but a good man all the same, and he's been through a whole lot lately. And yes, I romanced him in a game. So what? So have millions of other people, probably. That was just entertainment. This is my life. And, yes, of course I feel a certain degree of affection towards him but that's just normal. And besides, it's not like I'm flirting with him or anything. The letter I sent back was friendly but perfunctory. 'So that you do not worry unduly' remember? Formal as fuck. Texting an ex. That's crazy. You're crazy. Go to sleep, crazy.

I followed my own advice, placing the letter on the bedside table for safekeeping and burying myself into the soft pillows. Despite the business of my brain and the heat that still radiated through me, sleep came easily. Wine is a powerful sedative.

AN: I know I said I was going to upload on Fridays from now on but I'm going on a trip this week because it's my birthday so I won't be near a computer on Friday. I figured it's better to post early rather than late!

Thank you to my beta Kira Tamarion!

Thank you all for reviewing, subscribing and adding my story to your favourites, I really appreciate it! I hope you're all enjoying this so far and I can't wait to hear what you think about this chapter. It's kind of a long chapter for me and I usually prefer slightly shorter chapters but I know i'm in the minority there. Please light my emails up with your reviews -it's my BIRTHDAY, give me word-presents - and I'll be back next week with Chapter 35! Kisses.

Chimera Spyke: Those travelling minstrels definitely owe Ed Sheeran royalties if they're spreading it all over Ferelden! And yes, we are in agreement about Isolde. Not my fave.

Guest: I know, there's some Isolde hate in this house. I did try to write her a little sympathetically by including her love for Connor but Lauren's kind of a bitch and she doesn't really stand for any rudeness. She's pretty defensive and confrontational and in no way perfect, so even though she kind of gets it, she still won't back down from someone if they're challenging her.