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[Maria13]

@Addai & Shinobu, I'll confess I have always seen Morrigan as a baddy but hopefully that doesn't mean that I am blind or indifferent to where she's coming from, emotionally distant people often have difficult childhoods, or that I don't have some feelings for her...



As regards the future of the OGB, my lips are sealed...



Thank you both for continuing to read.

[Esbatty]

While not only being a Morrigan Sympathizer and author of a story wholly about Morrigan and the Warden reuniting, I do really really enjoy your take on her. Its not how I see her at all, much like Alistair, but damn if it isn't so well done.



And NOOOOOOOOES about Niamh and Bregeth's little harmonious life having any kind of disruption. I'd say "safety" instead of harmonious but I'm pretty sure Bregeth would do her utmost even against an Archdemon to protect the tyke.

[Maria13]

Welcome back, Esbatty.



Hope you had a good hols and enjoy the next chapter...

[Maria13]

Chapter 46

Dragon 9:34                     Parvulis/Kingsway   Orlais, Val Fermin  [Approx six months ago]

The first one, a human male with pockmarked cheeks and a stub nose, died.

Standing to drink from the chalice, a few seconds later he fell to his knees and then keeled over entirely with a thin, plaintive groan.

Perhaps Neriya should have done more to disguise her distress, she could not help bowing her head to hide her expression of grief, but she noticed out of the corner of her eye that even du Plessis pursed his lips and looked away. Yves and Ferri revealed what their role was by striding forward after a few respectful moments, lifting with some care the corpse of the poor unfortunate and placing it further back at their feet with its hands crossed over its chest and a cloth over its face.

When du Plessis gestured for the next candidate to walk towards the altar Neriya wondered just how frequently aspirants rebelled in the same way as Ser Jory had at Ostagar. She suspected it was not uncommon. For a moment, she speculated whether du Plessis had a dagger concealed somewhere in the folds of his habit… He was a prudent man, she reasoned, it would not be surprising. She knew Alistair carried one all the time and she had never seen Cullivan without his sword.

The next hopeful, also male and human, bravely came forward… Drank… and, after some minor convulsions, survived. Neriya and the other Wardens heaved a collective sigh of relief as Yves and Ferri guided him to a seat next to them.

The third candidate was tiny and approached the altar with light-footed steps. When her hood was pulled down, it revealed her to be a human female but every bit as petite as an elf. She had shiny reddish hair, pale beautifully smooth skin and a very pretty, pouty doll's face marred only by a clearly squashed, broken nose.

Still on her knees, she glanced at the corpse and then exchanged a look with her living comrade. As she, rose du Plessis proffered her the chalice and grasping it with both hands, she drank deeply, her slender throat moving.

Once du Plessis had withdrawn the chalice from her, for a moment she faltered, falling to her knees and propping herself up on her arms. Minutes passed slowly as she gasped and moaned but it was eventually clear that she would live to see the sun shine another day.

Du Plessis, smiling gently, helped her to her feet again and Ferri escorted her to sit next to the other newly accepted Grey Warden with whom she promptly held hands.

Of the remaining two human males, one lived and the other died.

Once the joining came to an end, Du Plessis leaving the chalice on the altar went to have a few words with the new recruits with Neriya at his side. He patted them on the back congratulated them and asked the two males where they were from. The young girl meanwhile looked shyly to one side.

When he had finished with them, he turned his attention to her. "Neriya, this jeune femme is also from Ferelden… South Reach I believe." Neriya and the young woman exchanged formal nods.

"Now… Hafren, you know the conditions attached to your membership of the order. You are banned from ever returning to Ferelden and you have promised to develop some skill, healing perhaps? That will be of use to us. See that you do so. I will be sending you to Val Royeaux, let's find out what they can make of you there…"

"Merci mon commandant." Murmured the initiate in a pristine Orleisian accent.

Once the new members had left Neriya turned to du Plessis, "Why is she exiled from Ferelden?"

Du Plessis scrutinised Neriya's face in some detail then looked away quickly. She realised he had just discovered something about her but for the life of her she could not fathom what it might be. "Not my secret to share" he replied crisply.

                                                                                         ~~...~~                

The joining held the following day transpired much the same save that three died rather than two.

As for that held on the third day, it was noteworthy, until the fourth hopeful presented himself, only because the first three candidates survived.

As he removed his hood and stood, Neriya vaguely registered that this was the first Elven aspirant that she had seen in the three days and he was Dalish, as denoted by the tattoos on his face. She took another look, and her mouth went dry and her legs turned to jelly…

Cullivan was gazing at her as if she were the last thing he would ever see in Thedas. Neriya felt a wild surge of rage ripple through her. He seemed to pick up on her anger even at a few metres' distance and shook his head as if mildly reprimanding her before clasping the chalice and pulling it to his lips without tearing his eyes from her. Du Plessis not oblivious to the sudden tension in the air also glanced in Neriya's direction.

Unable to stand it, Neriya turned her back on both of them, her shoulders shaking with fury but powerless to block her ears to what was happening behind her. She did not look again until she heard footsteps and murmurs that seemed to indicate he had survived.

Sure enough, turning back she saw Ferri and Yves helping him towards the seats next to them. Suppressing her anger, she put on a game face for the last candidate who was the only unfortunate to pass unto the Fade that day.

                                                                                     ~~...~~                   


Once du Plessis had conducted the formal welcomes to the new Grey Wardens, he dismissed three of them telling them that the best way to recover was to go and have a good drink and giving them the name of his favourite local tavern. Then he turned to Neriya and Cullivan both of whom looked pale and shaky for entirely different reasons and said. "Sort it out."

After a while of awkward silence and avoiding each other's eyes, Neriya ran her hand over her face and sighed. "Let's go to my quarters… Let me help you."

Cullivan smiled, "that was… Ghastly… I still feel wobbly …"

Neriya offered him her arm and he took it wordlessly. As he did she realised this was the first she was helping him rather than the other way around.

When they reached the very plain chamber she had been allocated on the second floor she went over to the window and pulled up the blind, then she guided him to the single bed and without protest, he lay down on it moaning gently. "Do you think alcohol really helps this?" He asked after a while.

"I wouldn't know…" Neriya said.

"Because if it did, even a little, I might abandon the good habit of a lifetime and…"

"You are such a bloody ****!" She suddenly snapped, "Why ever would you do such a thing…"

"I didn't know you would be there, lethellen, I…" He moaned clutching his stomach.

"As if that would have made any difference!"

"Well it would have… I was hoping to surprise you…"

"Sur… me? Oh, by the Maker, oh…" And she started laughing as she had never laughed before holding her sides because she thought she might burst. Cullivan watched her very carefully with some sadness lurking in his eyes. Then she hiccoughed several times, bent over, and started crying big sobs racking her body from head to toe. She felt his hand run lightly over her hair.

"I really didn't mean to hurt you, Neriya, but it is just that you seemed so lonely, especially since… You know, the child."

After what seemed a long time Neriya lifted her face from her knees, "And you thought you would join me…" Her face was red and puffy, "Oh Maker! That sounds so much like a bad joke…" and she started weeping again.

"I could not think of any better way to do it. As a Grey Warden, you were taken irrevocably… I felt I had a choice to follow the same course as you or to leave you because sooner or later it would have separated us… Now we are on the same road."

"I never asked you to… I—"

"Of course you didn't and you never would. This is my choice. Just tell me I am not going to feel this sick for the rest of my life… Otherwise I might begin to regret it," He said smiling ruefully.

"It will pass… You know all the other things."

"Of course. You went through them all in great detail."

"I didn't realise you were taking notes."

"Neither did I, at first."

"One thing. Did du Plessis have any role in this?"

"No! Couldn't you see he was surprised that we even knew each other?"

"I wasn't standing that close to him… Once I had recognised you… I couldn't really take on board anything else…"

He reached out his hand. Gently, she took it, pulled it to her face and started crying again.

                                                                                            ~~...~~

Dragon 9:35 Verimensis/Wintermarch        Orlais, Val Royeaux                     [Present]

Some four months later Neriya and Cullivan found themselves waiting in the private meeting room of one of the up-market hôtels in central Val Royeaux. Outside it was winter and there was a cold wind blowing east from the Waking Sea but in here there was a little stove keeping them warm.

"Neriya… and…" Her voice was sheer ice much like the prevailing wind.

Morrigan looked much as she had been when Neriya had last seen her some five years ago. She was wearing what appeared to be a gold and maroon robe under a long black cape with a hood, which she did not remove as she sat down. Two little diamonds twinkled at her ear lobes. A solid-looking dark hued staff was on her back. She removed a pair of fine leather gloves impatiently plucking at the fingers and set them down on the table before her. Several rings sparkled on her hands.

"Cullivan." Neriya and Cullivan both wore wool Grey Warden habits, Cullivan's draped over his green and brown leathers.

"Cullivan… Ha." She looked him up and down and dismissed him with a quirk of her perfectly formed lips. Neriya felt Cullivan stir restlessly in his chair next to her. I warned you what an utter **** she was, she thought, but men never quite believed that did they? Except Alistair, he had loathed Morrigan virtually from the go get. "I am to co-operate with you, apparently. For up to one hour."

Neriya waited for her to settle somewhat, "Where is your child?"

"What child would you mean?"

"The child you conceived with Alistair and birthed just over three years ago?"

"Not here."

"I did not ask where the child was not but where it is… Answering questions that have not been posed instead of those that have can hardly be construed as co-operation…" Neriya picked up the grey-sealed envelope that lay conspicuously on the table in front of her and waved it under Morrigan's nose. It contained a conscription order for her.

"You owe me, Neriya," Du Plessis had said about a month ago, when he informed her he had arranged this meeting, "You and Alistair owe me big for this, I put my balls on the line for you both here…" It had been the first time she had heard him use an expletive in her presence.

"I do not know." Replied Morrigan.

"But the child lived? It survived the birth?"

"It did."

"Male or female?"

"Male."

"Did it appear normal?"

"What? In that, it had two arms, two legs and one head? Yes it appeared normal."

"Did you give it a name?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Unusually, Morrigan appeared somewhat flustered, "I… Did not have the time…"

"Why did you not have the time?"

"The child was sepa… Taken from me."

"Who took it, witch?" Asked Cullivan sharply cutting in.

Morrigan sat up straight and folded her hands beneath her chin. "Why, mother, of course… Flemeth." She said turning a cold gaze on him.

"Asha 'belannar." murmured Cullivan.

"Precisely, elf."

"Where did Flemeth take him?" Asked Neriya regaining the reins.

Morrigan shrugged, "How would I know…"

Neriya shook her head as if attempting to dislodge an unpleasant thought from it, "Do you care, do you care at all?" Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised they were a mistake. Morrigan did not deal in emotions, least of all guilt.

"Why should I? I only conceived," Morrigan directed a special smile at Neriya here, "bore and birthed the brat… Perhaps, you should more accurately ask yourself, Neriya, do you care? After all I did request, nay, begged that you, Alistair, and the others should slay Flemeth. Had you done so…"

"You would be using the child for your own ends and we would not be speaking now, would we?"

"Tsk, tsk, you assume so much, Neriya."

"So Flemeth took him when exactly?"

"Shortly after the birth."

"Why did no one stop her?"

"Because, Neriya…" Morrigan leaned across the table; Neriya leaned forward in her turn so that barely a few centimetres separated the two mages' noses. Cullivan could have sworn that Morrigan's eyes changed for a brief moment from gold to green and then back to gold again, she continued between clenched teeth "I was the only other person present and I was in no condition to prevent her."

Neriya leant back. "You do care…" She muttered.

"Insofar as Flemeth took what was mine, yes." Morrigan's body relaxed back into the chair.

"It's more than that…"

"Believe what you will…" Morrigan replied lightly.

"Why have you made no effort to recover him?"

"It is pointless. I do not know where they are. Flemeth will not part with him willingly and I am powerless to compel her to."

"Why…" Asked Cullivan.

"If I attempt to take the child from her, she will possess me and then she will have me and my child both… I am happy that she let me live. Now, since I presume you have exhausted all your questions..." Morrigan got to her feet.

For a brief moment Neriya caught herself admiring her elegant fingernails and then realised that Morrigan had had to support herself by placing her hands on the table in order to stand. Was Morrigan using a glamour? Neriya glanced up at her, Morrigan sneered at Neriya, tightening her mouth in feral snarl, and for a moment, the air between the two of them swirled with loathing.

"Have you seen him since?" Asked Cullivan.

"Don't be ridiculous…" said Morrigan turning her attention to him and retrieving her gloves.

"Who do you work for?" Asked Neriya.

"A foolish question, indeed… Since when have I worked for anyone but myself?"

"I hope your current employer and protector is aware of that…"

"It is none of your concern. Please do not trouble me again."

[Maria13]

Chapter 47

Dragon 9:35              Verimensis/Wintermarch                Denerim                                  [Present]

Alistair knew better than to run full tilt despite what his most basic instincts were urging him to do. The house by the alienage gates was a fair few kilometres from Fort Drakon so he purposely restricted himself to a very brisk walk. On the way, he was satisfied to pick up Captain Kylon and a mere select four of the most competent guards at the palace. He briefed the Captain as they went along telling him that the life of a friend he was looking after had been threatened.

It was a fairly cold day in Denerim although the snow had recently melted there had been several frosts. But as Alistair darted through the city's squares and streets dressed in full mourning and trailed by a handful of guards, pointedly not pausing to greet his fellow citizens as he usually did when officially abroad, he hardly noticed that he had forgotten to pull on his gloves or don a thicker cloak more appropriate for the outside than for draughty chambers.

It took them about an hour to arrive at the three-storied town house on the arcaded square. Alistair fumbled at his belt for the key that he always carried with him. Once he had unlocked the door Kylon stepped inside in front of him paced through the little hallway and into the parlour. Alistair followed him two steps behind.

"Well, what do we have here?" The captain walked over to a figure that appeared to be sitting in one of the straw-seated chairs, slumping over the small round table. Alistair drew back the curtains.

Captain Kylon pulled up the head by its hair. The face was non-descript and bore a slightly surprised expression. A dagger protruded from its chest.

"At least this gentleman is beyond giving us any trouble, Your Majesty… And what's this, a letter?" It was on the table concealed by the body, The Captain picked it up, "Hmm it says 'to Alistair', you wouldn't happen to know any literate assassins, would you, Your Majesty?"

"Probably more than you could shake a stick at, Captain…" Alistair made a come-hither gesture with his fingers and Kylon handed him the letter.

While Alistair retreated to the window to peruse the letter, the Captain started barking orders:

"All right search the house make sure there is no-one here, under the beds, the wardrobes, attic, basement go through it thoroughly every centimetre please, but keep it as tidy as you can… And make sure you wipe your bloody boots before tramping all over the rugs…Don't break anything or it'll come out of your wages!"

Carefully avoiding the numerous dark marks on the parchment Alistair unfolded it and began to read:

"Dear Friend Alistair

Profuse apologies for the slight mess I leave behind me.

However, I just happened to be passing through and thought I would make your delightful little girl a first birthday present of this miscreant who was obviously loitering around with nefarious intentions towards her.

I do not need to tell you that you should keep Niamh safe, Alistair, but I must add you have done well to keep her secure for so long, it is simply time for a change of address. As for that Dalish nanny, you have arranged for your child… Well! Let us just say that this humble Crow would not wish to get into a scrap with her… That is a compliment, by the way.

We should meet sometime, catch up on the news perhaps, may I suggest this summer? I am sure the square outside will be most beautiful on a hot day in Solace… I shall get back to you nearer the time.

Meanwhile do give little Niamh a kiss on behalf of her besotted uncle

Zevran A.

PS Do not waste time searching for me when you read this, I will already be well on my way to… I'm sure you understand why I cannot say."

With an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude, Alistair shook his head, refolded the letter very carefully and slipped it into his doublet.

"Bad news?" Asked Kylon.

"Good news, actually, and a blast from the past…"

"What do you suggest we do with this gentleman?" The Captain said pointing to the corpse.

"This is a nice neighbourhood, peaceful…"

"River?"

Alistair frowned. "Not very hygienic…"

"Wasteland burial?"

"I'd go with that… But before you do, search him, see if there's anything to identify him by. Actually, I want to see everything on him, clothing included."

"Will do. I trust the lady of the house is safely ensconced somewhere else?"

"Lady…"

"Your mistress. Only reason a man goes that fast is for his girl… A man needs a woman especially if his wife…"

Alistair held up his hand. "Quite."

"Good, then."

Alistair sat down at the table opposite the body. "Who do you think this guy was?"

"Maker knows, Sire"

"What about his boots?"

"Not new, not old, medium worn… I'd say," said Kylon checking out the corpse's feet and lifting its legs.

Alistair sighed.

Interpreting that as a sign of impatience, the Captain started bellowing up the stairs: "Are you lot finished yet? Jameson, don't let me catch you trying on ladies' clothes again! You're a good soldier but that can be distracting…"

Alistair raised his eyebrows.

"Takes all types." Commented Kylon, shrugging.

                                                                                      ~~...~~

About ten minutes later the soldiers reported back. Alistair instructed Captain Kylon to take two of them and dispose of the body while he commandeered the remaining two.

Alistair had to knock three times before Jo opened the door to Lawler's small two-storey house. He left the guards outside while he entered. The rather cramped building was full of people and noise.

Jo was helping Lawler improve his reading, the boys were playing soldiers fighting up the stairs and on the second floor, Bregeth, and Puy were in the kitchen, preparing a meal for everybody and arguing good-humoredly about what the best form of baby food was vegetables or fruit. Niamh sat in a baby chair opposite Lawler and Jo, gurgling loudly and brandishing a wooden spoon that she had obviously confused with her sword.

Alistair went over to Niamh, picked her up kissed her cheeks and let her hit him on the head with the spoon while laughing with relief. He closed his eyes for a moment. This place felt like a home with a real mix of people and lots of noise and hassle and the smell of something good cooking in the kitchen. It wasn't a dormitory full of other men that reeked of sweat and damp socks or a bedroom well but simply furnished and empty of anyone save for himself. It was a place where people lived and talked and argued, ate and slept. He wondered if he would ever be anything but a visitor to such a place…

Then, putting Niamh over his shoulder, he went into the kitchen.

"One more serving needed," Bregeth said to Puy, who just then turned from the iron stove and, seeing Alistair, stood rooted to the spot.

"Hello…" said Alistair.

Bregeth dug Puy in the ribs, "Pay some attention to the cooking, he's just a one more mouth to feed…"

Puy took stole another glance at Alistair and, muttering something, turned with red cheeks back to his hobs. Alistair handed Bregeth Zevran's letter.

"Oh him…" she said, "Huh, 'besotted uncle Zev', so he got the kill, opportunistic so and so…"

"Well he is a Crow…"

"And crows are just carrion birds…"

"And he certainly can't feed a baby like you can…"

"Flattery…"

"I think you should go back with Niamh to the Brecilian Forest for a few weeks while this blows over… Then I'll arrange new accommodation here and come and collect you. What do you think?"

Bregeth pursed her lips and nodded, giving him back the letter. "Yes, that seems the best way to go. It will be good for Niamh too; she can experience what it is like to be Dalish…"

"Do you think the Keeper will be amenable?"

"Lanaya? Of course she will, like most females and some males…" Bregeth raised her voice pointedly here, "She worships the ground you walk on…"

"Say, Alistair…" said Puy turning round, "Is this elf always so sharp-tongued?"

"No, not always…" replied Alistair, "not when she's asleep… but she does snore pretty loudly then…"

Puy giggled and went back to his cooking.

Alistair returned to the parlour where Lawler with a scrunched forehead was attempting to read aloud a complex history book while Jo quietly corrected him.

Alistair put Niamh back in the baby chair and handed her the spoon again and when his Knight Escort reached a convenient point, at the turn of the page, he said, "Thank you Lawler, you're a bloody hero."

Lawler glanced at Jo and then blushed and shifted his shoulders, "It was nothing…"

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Lawler pointed with his chin, got up and walked through the kitchen giving Puy a quick pat on the bum as he went past and opened a door into a little garden.

Alistair closed it behind them.

"My vegetable patch and fruit orchard," Said Lawler, "Carrots, potatoes, peas, beans, an apple tree…"

He walked up and down a mostly bare scrap of ground neatly arranged in earthen rows where a few wilted plants appeared to be struggling to survive.

"I didn't know you liked gardening…"

"It's relaxing, of course there's nothing doing at the moment 'cause the ground's too hard but spring will come soon enough. I even manage to bully the boys into helping out every now and then… So…" He said crossing his arms over his chest.

Alistair handed him the letter.

Lawler unfolded it and scrunched up his eyes, "Oh, our friend Zevran… Seems he's taken quite a liking to your little girl… I'd hate to think what would happen if he didn't like her…" Alistair shifted uneasily. Lawler smiled and handed the letter back to him, "So I don't know whether it was the guy he killed or him or the both of them that I was picking up. I just knew I was picking up something…"

"You have good instincts…"

"Well…"

"Are you alright to take Bregeth and Niamh to the Brecilian Forest tomorrow? I think it's a good idea to get them out of the city for a while."

Lawler nodded, "I can do that…"

"Meantime I'll contact the Keeper and advise her you're coming… So many people at home…" He said waving towards the little house.

"It's cosy but a bit tight with Bregeth and Niamh…"

"I won't stay longer than dinner…" He paused, "Would you like a bigger house? Near the alienage gates… I mean I paid the lease for the year in advance…"

Lawler grinned, "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not actually, no. I was thinking that when I bring them back to Denerim I could place Bregeth and Niamh a few doors down, whoever is after them won't necessarily expect that… Plus if you're in the neighbourhood… What do you think?"

"I think Bregeth and Puy are going to enjoy it… Even if they pretend to be arguing all the time… There's a little garden there too, isn't there?"

"Yep, it overlooks the alienage, just jump over the wall and you're on the other side…"

They were both silent for a little while watching dusk crawl over the Denerim sky, then Lawler said, "Alistair, you'll be alright won't you?"

"Of course I will…" Alistair scoffed.

"Are you sure now? I mean Niamh's fine of course, but this morning… and everything… wasn't very pleasant… and Lady C…"

"Just take care of the girls and I will take care of myself. It's the least I can do…"

"Sometimes I worry about you…"

"I'm—"

Before Alistair could think of something more reassuring to say, Bregeth poked her head out of the door and told them that if they were not at the table in two minutes there would be no supper left for them.

                                                                                                    ~~...~~

That evening Alistair summoned the elf named Petreus under the pretext that there was un-emptied chamber pot in his room. Petreus turned out to be tiny and wizened and not altogether with it but he memorized Alistair's message to the keeper quite keenly and promised to get it on its way as soon as possible and get back to Alistair with any reply. Alistair gave him a few silvers for his trouble.

                                                                                                    ~~...~~

Four days' later Alistair sat in one of the seediest taverns he had been known to frequent in Denerim. He had been in such a bad mood for the last few days that nothing less would do to suit his sense of misery.

He had not been sleeping too well. He kept waking up hearing the Bann's wife's scream echoing in his ears and having all sorts of confused dreams about the execution.

He had slain many people in his short life but it had mainly been in the course of fighting, which was slightly different, he thought, from a cold-blooded execution with the family present… Why, he could hardly remember the first person he had killed in combat… Oh yes, he could… Bloody hell, more nightmare fodder… And then there was Loghain, he'd never regretted Loghain. Not really. Had it coming… Buggeration.

He tried to concentrate on the documents in front of him once again; he wasn't usually this slow…

It had snowed a few days ago. When it snowed at this time of year, he always remembered kissing Neriya in the market place and the snow fight they had had the following day…

He guessed he was lonely, basically. Niamh, Bregeth even Lawler were in the Brecilian Forest, well Lawler would be on his way back, Lady C had pulled a disappearing act…

Oswyn had dropped by, enthused about his staff fighting and happily displaying a most painful collection of bruises and extolling the brutality of Chantry folks once they got a rod in their grasp. It was all very interesting, of course, but Alistair just could not muster the passion he would have shown barely a few weeks' earlier.

Then they had started discussing the technicalities of lyrium trading and the ins and outs of different commercial strategies, in the end he had just not been able to follow so he had asked for a written report, which Oswyn had prepared already and it was this that he was now attempting to take in… He had tried to do it in his room at the palace but it was just too darned quiet for some reason, so he had brought it here… and this wasn't really working either…

He wondered whether he should ask for something stronger than ale, something stronger even than liquor, something that would make him forget, rub a few days away…

He looked back down at the papers and then looked up again, surely, he was mistaken? The sensation faded and with a sigh, he turned back, then someone seated themselves opposite him and there was no confusing it.

"I think your guard just went to have a pee, Alistair…"

"I thought I'd see you again…" His tone of voice, like his frame of mind was less than welcoming.

"I always seem to catch you in a crappy mood…" She commented, "Is there somewhere we can speak?" Asked Sagital.

"Here… Why not?"

"Because not, don't be bloody awkward Alistair!" she hissed at him.

"Sure you just want to talk?"

She leaned back and stuck her legs out, calming down. Just like several years ago when she was one of his interrogators, she was still in that shiny armour, still had the long glossy dark hair. Still stirred him up. "I don't mind… Whatever…"

Alistair waved to the man behind the bar and when he had caught his attention made a gesture in Sagital's direction. The taverner grinned went to the other end of the bar, extracted something from the wall and tossed it in Alistair's direction. Alistair caught it on the fly.

"I see all is well in the Kingdom of Ferelden…"

                                                                                                   ~~...~~    

"Why are we doing this?" Asked Alistair tearing himself away from their first kiss, they hadn't even made it to the bed. "Is it the taint? Does the taint do this to us?"

"It could be." Sagital said nonchalantly. She began to unhook his homespun surcoat. "It could also be our reaction to it, or simply our nature…"

"It's not the same for mages, though, is it?" He was fiddling with the straps of her plate-mail.

"No. But they have more experience and training in mental discipline than we do…"

An unmistakeable sound came from one of the neighbouring rooms. Alistair peeled off her plate-mail and arranged it over a chair. "What is this place Alistair, a bawdy house?"

"Welcome to Ferelden…"

They were both now in their chemises above the belt, "Somehow I envisaged that making love to a King would be… Different."

Sagital put one foot on the chair to assist him in unlacing her grieves while she tackled the other.

"I think you'll just have to make do," He said.

They were down to their small clothes and at last had made it to the bed.

Another noise, this time a distinctly male groan followed by a half-smothered exclamation of "Maker!"

Sagital lounged back onto the pillows quite shameless, quite naked.

"It was different in my imagination, very different…" but she was smiling. "Ah well, at least I see that your reputation is not entirely unearned…" she said looking at him.

"We aim to please." He said primly before kissing her again.

After a few hurried horizontal embraces Sagital got on all fours, Alistair straddled her and it was all over for them both quite quickly.

Once he had recovered his breath he said, "I'm not usually that swift. It must be this rather over-heated environment…"

Sagital's hand clasped his, "No," she said dropping down next to him, "I have always been like that… Really fast."

"Truly?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh yes," She paused, "You look put out… Oh, you're not one of those guys who likes to work for it, are you?" she laughed.

"I guess, I am…" It had never occurred to him before that he was, but as he said it…

"Most men love it." Sagital went on, "They see it as an endorsement of their manly abilities…"

They were silent for a while. Alistair thought about how sad most men were, and then how sad he was… "What do you want, Sagital?" He asked finally.

Sagital sighed. "Epson died."

Alistair grimaced at the ceiling, "So?"

"I killed him, Alistair…"

"And you wait till after we've done the deed to tell me?" He paused, "Of course you do…"

"It was in self-defence…"

"Then why didn't you stay to face the music in Orlais instead of cutting and running?" He was irritated now.

"I don't think it would have gone well for me…"

He looked at her directly, yes, there were no tears but she seemed upset, contrite… Still what did he know? Neriya had accused him once of thinking with his dick…

"He assaulted Neriya; you told me he had beaten you… Was that the truth?"

"Yes… yes it was…I loved him… He saved my life once, insisted that Konrad should recruit me as well as him when we were both in jail facing execution… but from then onwards he thought I was his to do with as he pleased… I belong to no one… To no-one…" She repeated the words quietly as if to convince herself, "I tried to get away, several times… He always tracked me down. Then we'd fight and eventually he would get the upper hand, until this last time…"

Alistair sat up. "I haven't seen you; we did not do this… The last time I saw you was four years ago" He found his smallclothes and started pulling them on, "The port is that way…" He pointed roughly to the east.

"I understand your position…" She said weakly.

"Good because I do, too. I don't owe you anything. Not a damn thing."

"I don't want to run…"

"Then go back to Orlais or turn yourself over to Dummond here… Remember? I promised you transit not asylum." He was hopping into his breeches.

"I was wondering if you could use me in some way… Give me some sort of assignment…"

"Like what?"

"I don't know… Send me to the wilds to search for your demon child…"

He narrowed his eyes and paused, "Why should I do that? You have hardly proven yourself trustworthy, it's not like we're even friends…"

Sagital turned on her side to face him, "Because you have a use for me…," she said and then "Because you are merciful…"

Something crossed his features; Alistair sat on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands.

"Alistair?"

He turned quickly pinning her to the bed.

"You are Sorcha, from now onwards, not Sagital. You don't even know who she is… Change your appearance. Completely. So others can't recognise you. Meet me at the Mermaid and Anchor; it's in the port area, in three days' at around this time… If you're convincing, I may have something for you to do. If not… You're on your own…" He hastily pulled on the remainder of his clothing and grabbed the discarded papers. "Give me at least ten minutes before you leave. Don't follow me. If I don't see you again… Good bloody luck."

Modifié par Maria13, 17 janvier 2011 - 09:06 .

[Addai]

Ooh, had some catching up to do but it was worth it. You write for Morrigan very well. And poor Alistair...

I'm a little worried about the Dalish guy. Nice as he is, she needs to get back to Denerim!!

Modifié par Addai67, 20 janvier 2011 - 04:08 .

[errant_knight]

Hmm... I though Alistair was getting better, but now he's sleeping with people he doesn't even like, just because he can. That's not a good sign.

I don't mind seeing Neriya with someone else. Fact is, I'm having a bit of a problem with almost all the female characters in the story. I just don't like them. Well, I kind of like Anora, which is disturbing in and of itself, and all the more so since she's the only female other than Bregath that I sort of like a bit. I suspect that the Cousland went through something truly horrific while captive and we'll find out that, plus the death of her family, is what's making her so erratic, but...yikes. And Neriya...she's scary as all get out.

I like the male characters, though, which makes me wonder how that fits into the story. Or is it just me?

Modifié par errant_knight, 21 janvier 2011 - 02:54 .

[Maria13]

@ Addai, thanks, yes about Morrie I don't know why but I am very confident writing her.



@Errant, what can I say? Thanks for the comments, I suddenly feel my head has turned transparent and it's disturbing...

[Maria13]

Chapter 48

Dragon 9:35  Verimensis/Wintermarch              Denerim                  [Present]

The next day he woke up face down sprawled over his bed. It seemed he had slept but his mind on waking was cluttered with unpleasant images and sounds. The execution, the sheets darkening, that scream, the noises from the other rooms, Sagital, it all seemed mixed up in his brain.

He thought about making love to Sagital… Well, that piece of behaviour was not even making love, was it? It was a f**k, a screw… Until now, he hadn't really experienced a sexual act so lacking in either pleasure or satisfaction and so stained with unease.

They had both been in perfectly the wrong frame of mind for such an encounter, she must have been frightened and desperate, though like most Grey Wardens she had learnt to conceal her fear pretty well, even from herself, he was definitely depressed and bored. In the circumstances, getting it on was the most unimaginative approach to sealing their acquaintance but neither of them had been capable of taking a step back and seeing that.

They would have been far better off just talking things through and thrashing things out without adding an additional layer of complexity to their relationship such as it was. Thinking about it made him feel ashamed: he had taken advantage of her, while she was taking advantage of him and neither of them had come out of it particularly well, he believed.

Having intercourse, at first had been an expression of love, and, with Neriya, it always was. Then, after Neriya had left him both the first and the second time, he had justified it as a need, a need that was preferable, say, to drinking himself into a stupor. He hoped it had not now become a compulsion.

He required something to keep him occupied. He turned on his back and studied the ceiling. All these days he had been in Denerim, almost three weeks' now, and he had not even gone once to visit those horses.

With that in mind, he was just about able to persuade himself to get up. He shuffled himself into some very plain clothes and the already damaged pair of boots (thank you, Lady C), went down to the ground floor and around to that part of the courtyard that housed the stables.

Yes, once the King of Ferelden had had horses, his father Maric had ridden albeit not very well, Loghain had had a reputation as an accomplished equestrian and the Ferelden army had had a cavalry unit. However, that was at least fifteen years' ago.

                                                                                                  ~~...~~

Someone was pacing up and down the stable yard. There was a ruckus coming from some of the stables and what appeared to be a mass of debris, were being shovelled out from them, onto a pile in the middle of the yard. He only recognised this person as Eoin when he was a few steps away from him, because he appeared to have lost some weight and his skin was a lightly toasted biscuit brown.

When Eoin spun on his heel once he had reached the end of the yard and saw him, he looked a little stunned for a moment. "Your Majesty…"

"Hello, Eoin," Said Alistair, "'Nora tells me you brought me some horses…"

"Oh yes, Your Majesty, please forgive the current chaos, we are just mucking out…"

"Muck—"

"Mucking out, it means cleaning out each horse's stable. It helps keep them in good health."

Alistair looked at what was going on behind them. "It looks just like shovelling horse **** to me…"

"That is exactly what it is…" Replied Eoin.

"Can I do some too?"

"Excuse me…," said Eoin.

"It kinda looks like fun… and I guess if I use a horse I'll have to learn how to care for it anyway…"

Eoin pulled a face but, nevertheless, called on one of the boys to get Alistair a pair of gloves and a spade.

"While they do that, shall I introduce you to the horses?"

"Good idea."

"I travelled first of all to the Free Marches and once I got there I discovered that the horses with the best reputations were Antivan, so I went to Antiva… Our ambassador there was extremely helpful he provided me with a minor official to act as an interpreter and who found out the dates of local horse fairs. These are very big events; there are hundreds of horses for all different uses—"

The lad trotted back with the gloves and spade and Eoin took them.

"I was advised to buy several foals of different gender as well as being cheaper it would add to lifespan of our stables. So five of the horses aren't yet ready for riding… Apparently you have to wait until they're about three and a half years old otherwise they might be injured, but you can and should train them to wear a saddle before that though…"

Alistair had read about horses and seen pictures of them but the horse ridden by the strange knight about a year ago was the first he had seen in the flesh and obviously, because of what was going on then, he really had not had the time to observe it in detail.

The first thing that struck him, though, was how exquisite and how gentle these animals seemed. He put out his hand to the foals and they all approached and nuzzled it. He enjoyed the touch of their muzzles, noses and mouths so much that he found himself giggling like an eight-year old. Of the five, three were mostly grey, one was chestnut and the last one was brown/black although they all had a variety of distinct lighter or darker markings. Their coats were soft and shiny. They had longish awkward looking legs. And then there were their eyes they were dark and delightful and seemed full of emotion.

"These are beautiful creatures," said Eoin and Alistair found himself nodding in agreement.

"Do you know if they're related to brontos…?" he said while stroking the muzzle of a particularly affectionate filly who really seemed to enjoy the fuss.

"Sire…" Eoin said, extending his hands.

"Stupid question, ignore me…"

"You can change their names, some of the Antivan ones are quiet complex, you just have to call them by their new name with authority and preferably give them a treat. They like apples… Choose something simple and short. It should take them just a few weeks to get used to the new name… This breed has a reputation for being 'unnervingly intelligent'."

"It suddenly feels like a huge responsibility, naming them all… I'll have to think about it…"

"Allow me to show you the older horses…"

"Two geldings, two mares and one stallion. I imagine your main use for the horses will be riding, geldings are usually the easiest to control, stallions the most difficult with mares falling somewhere in the middle. Apparently, they, mares I mean, can be temperamental around… Well, their time of the month." Eoin looked a little embarrassed.

"I see." Said Alistair somewhat bemused.

"They don´t have times of the month in winter, it starts up in spring, so now would be a good time to get them used to being ridden again, perhaps…" Added Eoin. "They're the same breed as the young'uns… Antivan. They all have been trained to accept riders."

They were all well over a metre and a half tall and seemed both elegant and strongly built, with long necks, large chests and overall very physically powerful and sturdy in appearance. They had long, thick manes and tails. They were almost as alluring as the foals, though much larger. Again grey was the predominant colour but one of the mares was white and one of the geldings was dark.

Eoin insisted on bringing out the stallion. "Jonah," He called and one of the stable boys put down his shovel, "bring out…"

"The big one," completed the boy.

"Yes," said Eoin. While the boy went into the stall and bridled the horse, Eoin muttered to Alistair, "For some reason he prefers to be handled by that boy, Jonah is very laid back and patient, but also firm, perhaps that's why he likes him…"

Alistair had heard, he did not recall where, perhaps it was one of the older Templars, that horses, like Mabaris could pick up whether you were afraid of them and tended to respond accordingly. Therefore, Alistair pulled himself up slightly.

The stallion was slightly taller than him and a dappled grey colour, resembling the hues of gathered rain clouds. What struck Alistair most was that he had large, almond-shaped eyes that seemed especially animated and friendly.

Alistair touched his nose and wished he were alone with him as he was with Mabya, when he used to talk to her, but he decided that the best way forward was to pretend the others were not there. Therefore, he went ahead, told the horse that he was very handsome, and hoped he had had a good journey. Alistair also explained that it wasn't always this cold in Ferelden but that it often was, and promised him he would do his best to ensure that he was always happy, comfortable and warm…

The horse, who, on the spur of the moment, he decided to call 'Dusk', had poked his ears forward as if listening and seemed to like what he heard. Alistair was relieved that neither Eoin nor Jonah looked at him in a funny way while he was talking to him in this fashion.

"There's apparently a whole cartload of superstitions about horses, sire." Eoin prattled on, "You see that white mark on his forehead? It's called an 'irregular star' because it's not dead centre or a regular shape… If it was, he would have been twice the price…"

"You mean he's imperfect or judged to be imperfect…"

"Exactly, Your Majesty,"

"I like that…" Said Alistair taking Dusk's bridle from Jonah and patting his flank, "It's not the horse's fault, he was born with it and it's not a problem, but just the way the people around him see him…" He mused.

"I guess…"

"Like me." Alistair added quietly.

Eoin did not seem to hear or follow, "Anyway, Sire, then there's his legs," and he waved in their general direction. "You see both his front legs and one of his hind legs have some white on them, apparently that's meant to be unlucky, lucky horses have white on the back legs."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Apparently. And the more extensive white marks on one of his front legs and his back leg are called socks…"

"Socks? As in…" Alistair gestured towards his own feet.

"Yes."

"Oh, I get it."

"And that very narrow white marking around the hoof on his front right leg, that's called a 'coronet'"

"So he might be royalty after all…" Both Eoin and Jonah looked a little puzzled. Dusk whinnied quietly. Alistair was very used to his jokes falling flat and since even he recognised this was a particularly poor one, he did not let it get to him.

Alistair gave Dusk one last pat and returned the bridle to Jonah. "Since he's out, we might as well muck out the stallion's stable," Said Eoin to Jonah.

"I'll do it." Said Alistair, gently wresting the gloves and spade from Eoin's hands.

A look of shock passed over the deputy sub steward's face, and Alistair understood that he had not been taken seriously. "You deal with Dusk." Said Alistair to Jonah. The boy, who also seemed rather stunned, nodded. "Eoin, I have lots of questions for you, stick around while I do this…"

                                                                                                     ~ ~...~~

Anora was about to turn back as she realised that today she had mistimed her regular visit to the stables, they still appeared to be mucking out. It was a bit strange, though, because Eoin was in deep in conversation with one of the people mucking out and this man was rather large, she had only previously seen boys doing that job but he seemed to be going at it with some vigour. He had good legs, she thought, even through the breeches they seemed solid. A nice taut behind, too…

Eoin raised his eyes for a moment and spotted her. "Your Majesty…" he said.

The shoveller, stood up, she was about to tell him to continue with his work when he turned and said, "Good morning, Anora."

She was speechless. For a few moments, her first impulse was to scold Alistair soundly as she often did. However, that would be inappropriate in this setting and in particular in Eoin's presence so she bit her tongue. Alistair grinned down at her exactly as if he were reading her thoughts.

"Alistair…"

"Eoin here was telling me all about his trip to Antiva, it sounds fascinating…"

"I'm sure. But it must be very hot…" Remarked Anora.

Eoin nodded, "Oh, yes Your Majesty."

"And that would be uncomfortable and not at all good for my complexion," Said Anora, "or for yours, Alistair. I would much prefer Orlais, less backwards."

"We could always wear hats, my dear…"

"Hats…"

"Anyway…" Said Alistair leaning on his spade looking amused. Anora noticed it was filthy and barely managed to suppress a shudder, "What are you doing here, 'Nora?"

"It's A, A-nora, 'Lister. I've…"

He noticed she was wearing a little burlap bag on a strap. Without so much as asking, he flipped it open, "Oh apples…" He said and took one, "Thanks." He added and bit into it.

"They are for the horses, Alistair."

"Oh so you come regularly to feed the horses, do you?" He grinned. "What was it you told me at one of our meetings when I returned from the Brecilian forest? Oh yeah, that sending Eoin away to buy horses was 'a waste of resources that we could ill afford', or something of that ilk."

Anora noticed that Eoin had taken a few cautious steps back. "Sometimes you can be so annoying, Alistair." She hissed.

"I'm just teasing… I'm sure you must be a nice person somewhere deep down, right? If only nice to liddl horsies… Anyways, do you have any experience of horses…?" He took another bite.

"Yes, actually, I do. I used to ride…"

"Really?" He said between mouthfuls.

"Yes, really, Alistair…"

"So do you want one?" He spat out a few seeds, Anora frowned.

"Are you offering me one?"

"I might be. They are mine, after all…"

"No."

"Is that 'no' because I'm offering it to you? Or 'no' because of something else… Just curious, here." Another bite.

Anora took a deep breath, "When I was twelve or so, I fell off my horse and broke a leg very badly… It took ages to heal even with the best healers and physicians… I never want to ride a horse again, but that doesn't mean I don't like them…"

"I see." He said looking at her thoughtfully, chewing, and then, "I'm sorry… I was just wondering whether there was anyone in Ferelden who could teach me… To ride I mean…"

"You didn't think of that before? Well that is not me, I'm afraid…"

He threw the remains of the apple on the muck pile. "Bummer…"

I hate to say this but you know the Couslands?"

"Who doesn't know the Couslands…?"

"Fergus and Rous, they both had a reputation for being excellent equestrians when they were younger…"

                                                                                          ~~...~~

"A sovereign that she approaches us anyway…"

Dummond laughed, "I am not as well off as you…"

"I am not well off." Said Alistair, "far from it… fifteen silver then, surely even you can afford fifteen silver…"

"I can but I would have to bet against you and I think you're right and she'll approach as anyway…"

"This is no fun."

"Have some more to drink, then it won't matter…"

Alistair sighed he wanted to have his wits about him so he was going to resist Dummond's suggestion, "So you've known her for about twelve years…"

"That's right… We may not have been at exactly the same joining but give or take a few years…"

"And Epson… Oh…"

A woman in a hooded cloak and a common robe took the third seat at the table. Sagital pulled back her hood, the first thing Alistair noted was her hair, and it was now short and blonde. He could not help grimacing. Her eyes were also heavily made up she had rouged her lips and cheeks, she wore two large elaborate earrings on her ears and a gaudy medallion round her neck.

"Is either of you two gentlemen feeling lonely?" She asked in a low throaty voice. "Or perhaps both of you are…" She winked.

"How much?" Asked Dummond, grinning.

"Why for you sweetie…" She said leaning forward, making eye contact and resting a hand on his arm, "Let's say fifteen silvers…"

"See." Dummond said turning to Alistair, "I would have been thirty down…"

"I already feel as if I have known you forever, mon cher…" She said licking her lips.

"Okay, okay," Said Alistair, "Enough. I'm sorry… Sorcha."

"You have nothing to be sorry about, if you intend to keep your promise." She said her tone changing immediately. "This is just a slight… Regression for me, back to my past, as it were..." She looked amused, "You are strangely fastidious Alistair… I had no idea."

"I know what I like, I think. Hopefully, I also know when I'm wrong… We shouldn't have… But we did so…" He opened his hands, "Here we are."

"And what is your decision." She said turning all her attention to him.

"Orzammar. One year." He said lowering his eyes to the table.

"Ugh, I hate Orzammar… So hot and stuffy and… dwarves…"

"Orzammar or port. Your choice." Said Alistair.

"One year?" She asked.

"One year and you can go where you want in Ferelden and do what you want, within the law, of course… I think that's generous…"

"And you are in agreement with this?" She asked turning to Dummond.

"Yes." He said steepling his hands, all levity gone.

Sagital/Sorcha pursed her lips. "Done then…"

Modifié par Maria13, 21 janvier 2011 - 01:41 .

[Addai]

Horse whisperer! Yay.

[Esbatty]

Wow, honestly I think we like to torture the characters we know and love. Poor Al. *sigh* Now back to me writing Morrigan gettin' backstabbed, lol.

[errant_knight]

Oh, good! Horses are just what Alistair needs. Just don't kill them, 'kay? I'm really glad he learned from his mistakes, here.

[Maria13]

@ Addai & Errant must not kill horses, must not kill horses, must not...



@ Esbatty, welcome back, hope you're okay... It's not torture it's 'narrative tension'...

[Maria13]

Author's note: An author's note? Yes, I know you might not be used to this because it's my very first one. What follows below is in effect, a re-write of chapter 49. A re-write because it was pointed out to me by someone I respect that she thought there might be a way to improve this chapter. I challenged her to do it and faced with what she presented to me had to concede defeat. So what follows is in fact a new draft of the chapter beta'ed by Lady de Modred or Cadsuane (look up her stuff at www.fanfiction.net/u/2279176/Cadsuane). You will notice that there is much less sex in this chapter than in my previous draft. Please note: I AM NOT WIMPING OUT. Merely delaying gratification. I think the narrative flows the better for it. Should you disagree (or agree) I would be happy to hear from you. Should you want to receive a copy of the initial full-blooded draft, pm me, I'll forward it to you. Well, enough talking from me for the time being, let's get to it...

Chapter 49

Dragon 9:35          Pluritanis/Guardian            Denerim                            [Present]

A week later, Alistair was feeling very tired. It had been an audience day, and a particularly trying one at that.

Today's audience had been mainly for subjects seeking aid, and it was always hard for him to see people suffering. One young mother, recently widowed and petitioning the crown for help as a last resort, had brought her child with her, and its cries had spoken more powerfully to her suffering than anything else. Practically begging, she had said, "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty, he's hungry. We all are and—" She broke off and started coughing, a horrible wracking sound that made her rib cage vibrate under her threadbare corset. She held her sleeve up to her mouth, "I'm so sorry…," she sobbed, gasping for air. "It's one of those things going around and—" Another series of hacking coughs. She bent over her child, her face red with effort and embarrassment, eyes streaming. He got up, walked down to her and held her out a handkerchief. She even hesitated to take it, Maker bless her. "I…."

That was just one of the first.

Thankfully, Lawler had been there, and afterwards he could just talk about what had happened over with him without having to go into too much detail.

"Anyway…" he said by way of concluding their patchwork conversation, "tomorrow will be another day." Seldom had the sound of his bedroom door opening on its well-oiled hinges been more welcome.

He went round, lighting a few of the dim lamps, and then checked the fire. Stirring the embers, he added some more wood to build the fire enough to take the chill from the air. As he poked desultorily at it, he thought he would forego reading tonight. It usually helped him fall asleep. He sometimes wondered what Anora thought when he'd had to straighten out the parchment at the meeting because they had creased when he rolled over them in his sleep.

Satisfied with the fire, he rose and began undoing the buttons of the heavy doublet he wore. He shrugged it off, letting it fall and tugged off his boots. Socks were next, then the heavy weight wool trousers he wore, and he was left in only the linen shirt and pants he wore beneath his heavier winter garments. His bedroom was warm enough for comfort, but there was no removing the ever-present chill of winter from much of the palace.

Leaving his boots where they were, he picked up his doublet and pants, intending to drape them on a chair so the servants could brush and air them out in the morning.

Suddenly he froze. There was something over the back of the chair that should not have been there. Putting his clothes across the seat, he picked it up to look—a set of leathers that creaked slightly as he handled them. Strangely familiar leathers…. Alistair draped them back over the chair and went over to the bed with a few hasty strides.

Well, there Rous was, sleeping like a baby under the top covers, curled up facing away from the fire with her hands folded before her mouth. He didn't know what to make of her presence. It was not as if she needed to sneak in if she just wanted to sleep with him. Perhaps she just wanted to talk… Yeah, right. And, how had she gotten in here?

He went back to the chair and slumped into it. He must have fallen asleep too because when he came around again his neck ached, and the fire was almost down to embers again. There was still no sound from the bed. He rubbed the back of his neck for a few seconds, put some more wood on the fire and stoked it.

He walked over to the bed and shook his head at the sight.

Eventually he put out a hand and stroked her cheek. She began to come to. She sighed, turned over on her back, opened her eyes… and saw him looking down at her, "Bugger…."

"And good evening to you, too, Lady Cousland."

She sat up. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early. I've really no idea." He went back to the fire and began poking at it again.

She got up and padded after him, swearing quietly as her feet touched the cold flagstones of the floor.

"I should call Lawler in, have you locked up," he said not making eye contact.

"Locked up…. Where?" She was standing next to him now, holding her hands out to the flames.

He looked at her. Rous appeared to be wearing nothing more than an oversized shirt that fell barely two hand spans below her hips. Nice legs. "In one of the cells downstairs."

"You're bluffing. There are no cells downstairs."

He placed the poker in the stand with the rest of the fire irons and stood up straight. Casting another look at her, and the slight shivering of her frame, he grabbed his doublet off the chair and dropped it over her shoulders. "You really don't think there are cells in the royal palace? Every other castle in Ferelden has them, but not this one?"

She drew the doublet around her. "You wouldn't really put me in a cold, dark, nasty cell, would you?"

"In the library then, the basement library. There are some very scary books down there."

"And also a secret passageway out of the palace."

"How—?"

"I'm a Cousland, Alistair," she said with haughty toss of her head, and for a moment, she reminded him of Anora or Lady Helmi. Almost naked and still tossing her head around like a lady. Nobles….

"Bet you couldn't find it."

"Bet I could. It wouldn't be the first time."

He was too tired for this back and forth. "So… what in the Maker's name are you doing here, Rous?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. She raised her face to his, and her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips. "Kiss me again, like you did a few weeks ago," she said quietly.

It was tempting, but her behaviour had been erratic enough that it held him back. He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't think so. I—"

"Please, Alistair." She held her arms out to him.

Alistair hesitated. "I…."

"Please, I know I've teased you. Let me make it up to you…." Rous bowed her head, so her hair covered her face and she was almost talking to the floor. Her hands now tugged nervously at the hem of her shirt she was wearing. Without knowing exactly why, she reminded him of the young widow. "I know I made you wait after leading you on and that wasn't right. But… it took me so much courage to come here today…."

"Courage…" Alistair echoed. "You seem very much to be in one piece. I'm not… I'm not going to assault you or anything, that's—"

"That's not what I meant," she said looking at him, tossing back her head again.

"Then what do you mean, Rous? I'm not following you here."

"Fair enough," she said. "I… have to show you something…." Rous turned her back to him, shrugged her shoulders to let his doublet fall, and began to unlace her shirt. She still had her smallclothes on, barely visible through the thin material.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back towards the light of the fire, and pulled back the shirt so he could clearly see her right breast. The scar from a deep cut slashed down diagonally from left to right, traversing the nipple. It had been crudely sown so there was a wide, raised scar across it, about the length of his palm. Alistair was very silent for a few seconds and then looked up to her face.

"It is useless," she explained glancing away when his eyes met hers. "The physicians say it didn't heal right and the—" The word seemed to stick in her throat. "Well… it's so damaged that I'll never be able to feed a child with it…." Her eyes were quite dry. "I can't even feel anything there either…."

For a moment, he was utterly still. "Oh, Rous…." Then Alistair took a step towards her, leaned over and wrapped his arms around her. For a while, she just nestled tightly against his chest. "Sodding bastards," he murmured against her hair.

The bedroom door cracked open, and Alistair looked over to see Lawler framed in the doorway. He must have heard something through the door and thought to check. Rous stiffened and dug her face even deeper against Alistair's chest as if that would keep her concealed. When Lawler saw Rous, who had her back to him, his eyebrows shot up. Alistair made a shooing motion with one of his hands and tried to mouth, "I'll explain tomorrow" to him. Lawler shook his head and grinned, showing all his teeth. The door closed.

"Is he gone?" she asked from against Alistair's chest.

"Yes," he replied stroking the back of her head. She sighed.

"I haven't shown this to anyone before. Fergus…. He knows, of course, but it's not the same. You… you're the first person I've ever shown."

After another moment, she shifted and he stepped back to release her somewhat. She reached up and slipped the shirt down over her other shoulder, exposing her left breast.

"This one is fine," she said, swallowing.

It was. Perfectly formed, porcelain white and rosy tipped.

There were other marks, a tracery of scores on her chest, and lower down on her stomach that he could see, but none as deep or vicious as that on her right breast.

Men boasted about scars and showed them off to each other all the time. It somehow vindicated them, proved to them what they had been through, that they had survived. It was proof of their resilience. He had never done that himself, nor had he let his scars concern him.

But for a woman? No, it wouldn't be the same. Their appearance was always judged, to a higher standard than men's. As stupid as that was, especially for a fighter, it was sadly true.

He had already knew that she was strong, but he wondered just how much fortitude was required to live with something that would be considered as disfiguring as that. How many would look and see only the imperfections of the surface and not the beauty of her strength?

Now he thought he understood the way she had vacillated, if not the rest of her behaviour. It must have taken every ounce of courage she had in her to reveal this to him. In some way, for some strange reason, she must trust him.

He was moved by her decision to confide in him, even…honoured. Her strength, her resilience, her courage were all things he had seen in few women since Neriya. Maybe none. There were even fewer with whom he could share his own feelings and experiences. Fewer still that he would want to. He was starting to think that Rous just might be one of them. And a very different person than he'd thought.

"Why me?" he asked.

She was quiet for a long moment. "Because you're a fighter. Because you put up with me. . Because you killed Howe. I thought if anyone would understand…."

He wanted to take her to his bed right now and make love to her, to show her just how beautiful he found her. So why wasn't he doing just that?

Because it would be too much like what happened with Sagital. An empty thing based in her fear and his loneliness, with little joy for either of them, and Sagital was nowhere near as vulnerable as Rous.

That was depressing—that he may have grown accustomed to using others for his own gratification and letting others use him. The only one who had wanted more from him than that, expected more from him, had been Neriya, and she was… gone. And he was tired of being lonely.

The chain of thought was a melancholy one, that served to both show how much he'd lost from who he'd once been, and cool his current ardour. It wasn't that he didn't want Rous. He did. But he also wanted more than just her body.

No, he could not do this. He would not.

Alistair reached out and gently pulled her shirt back up, covering her. "It's cold and late," he said.

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she stood quietly under his ministrations as he relaced the shirt.

Then she laughed, the sound brittle. "I should have known a king would only want pretty, flawless things in his bed," she said, looking away.

Grasping her chin, he turned her head back to face him. "You are very beautiful." He kissed her briefly on the lips.

She laughed again. "You're just saying that, just being kind. You don't have to lie."

Alistair took a half step back, clasped her wrist, and brought her hand abruptly to his groin so she could feel the hardness there. "This part of me," he said slowly gazing at her, "doesn't lie."

He released her wrist and moved another step back. "I don't want to have sex with you. Well, I do, but… not right now, not like this. You…. I just want…. Just stay, all right?"

For the first time in years, he felt like the virgin templar again, unsure of what exactly he wanted or how to ask for it.

"Yes…." Rous stepped forward, placing her hands on his chest and sliding them around his neck. She moved closer, pressing against and tilting her face up to his. "I want you," she whispered.

It would be easy, so very easy, to take what she clearly offered, just take her to bed, lose himself for a few hours as he always did between the thighs of a willing woman. And he wanted to. Maker, where had all his willpower gone?
No, he might not know what he wanted, not in a way he could name, but he knew what he didn't want, and that was to feel as he had when he realised he had caused Sagital to play the wh*** she had once been, and she had mocked him with it. Not to use Rous and be used by her in return.

He caught her wrists and removed her hands from his neck. He turned them over and pressed a kiss into each palm. "No," he said softly.

Rous frowned. "I don't understand."

"You deserve more than what you're asking for. So, for tonight, just stay with me. Nothing more." He started unbuttoning his shirt.

For a long moment, she gazed at him. "Fine," she muttered.

Alistair stepped away from her, and one of her hands tucked into his walked over to the bed. He slid under the blankets she had disturbed earlier and held out a hand. Rous came to him, still frowning slightly as she slipped in behind him, and lay down next to him, if a bit stiffly at first.

He ignored that, and instead pulled her close against him, her back to his chest, wrapping himself around her.

It felt… good. She felt good, relaxing as time wore on and letting her body mold to his. Strange, to be doing this. Strange to just lay against a person with no—or almost no—expectations to perform, and just enjoy the sense of not being alone. Strange to simply have his arms around a woman he didn't really know, had barely begun to understand, and feel so…content.

                                                                                                        ~~...~~

The next morning, he awoke slowly feeling surprisingly good—happy, even. As memories came back to him, he smiled and reached for Rous, only to encounter empty blankets. He cracked his eyes open slightly to look around.

She was dressed in her leathers and creeping toward the door on silent feet.

He sat up. "Where are you going, hmmm?"

She looked somewhat startled that he had caught her attempting to sneak out on him. "Fergus."

Alistair huffed in annoyance, wondering why this bothered him so much. "You've already been out all night. What're a few more hours? Stay with me."

"I can't…."

He sighed. "Fine. Go then, if you're so eager to flee my arms." He scowled in a mock pout and she laughed. "And laughing at me. You're a cruel woman."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," she drawled and he couldn't keep from grinning at her.

Then, "Rous? The First Day ball is next week. You're on the guest list. I would really like to see you there. You and Fergus. No more of this using him as an excuse to steal away."

Rous raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Yes. If you're so bloody determined not to stay, tell Lawler to get me up in about half an hour."

"Of course. How could anyone resist such a well mannered request?"

He picked up the humor in her response and grinned. "Sorry. Old habits." He punched his pillow back into shape. "Don't forget the ball."

"I won't."

"Good…."

Modifié par Maria13, 09 février 2011 - 08:49 .

[Addai]

It was sweet- sad, however I don't want Cous to get her hands on him! Neriya needs to get home STAT! Of course, I guess that would mean the story were over.

[Maria13]

Author's note: An author's note? Yes, I know you might not be
used to this because it's my very first one. What follows below is in
effect, a re-write. A re-write because it was pointed out to me by
someone I respect (thank you Lady De Modred!) that she thought there
might be a way to improve this chapter. I challenged her to do it and
faced with what she presented to me had to concede defeat. So what
follows is in fact a collaboration between her and I. You will notice
that there is much less sex in this chapter than in my previous draft.
Please note: I AM NOT WIMPING OUT. Merely delaying gratification. I
think the narrative flows the better for it. Should you disagree (or
agree) I would be happy to hear from you. Should you want to receive a
copy of the initial full-blooded draft, pm me, I'll forward it to you.
Well, enough talking from me for the time being, let's get to it...

[Addai]

I thought your original chapter was fine, but it's your story and the story is master. If you think that's how it ought to go, then what happens in Denerim stays in Denerim.

[Maria13]

Author's note: Dear reader, you may notice that some of the content of this chapter does not gel with what you may recall of 49. You are not going mad. It is simply that chapter 49 has been re-written. Many thanks to Lady Damodred for her work and time on this chapter which has greatly improved it. Any bluntness, errors, inconsistencies etc. are all mine.


Chapter 50

Dragon 9:35   Pluritanis/Guardian          Denerim               [Present]

"Up then, sleepy head," said Lawler, opening the curtains. "Although it seems you have been up most of the night." He went over and sat on Alistair's bed. "So tell me…"

"Uh…" said Alistair. He'd quickly fallen deeply asleep again following Rous's departure and it took him a moment to focus.

Lawler allowed him a few moments to collect himself, shooting him a curious glance from the edge of the bed. Evading the unspoken question momentarily, Alistair asked hastily, "How did she look?"

"Okay, I guess. She came out, told me that you had commanded her to inform me to wake you up in half an hour's time and went on her merry way."

"Did she look happy?"

Lawler looked at him curiously. "She looked… content?" he offered carefully. "Her hair was a bit messy, but she seemed perfectly fine… Why? Shouldn't she have?"

Alistair turned and lay on his back. "Ah… I guess that will have to do."

"What about you?" Before Alistair could reply there was a discreet knock on the door, "Oh, that must be the page with the hot water." Lawler went and opened it. He took the kettle across the room and poured some of the water into the basin in front of the mirror.

Alistair groaned and got up. Lawler's eyebrows shot up when he saw that Alistair still had his linen pants on.

"Perhaps you should get yourself a dressing gown or something…"

Alistair gave Lawler a long look.

"Just saying. I mean if you insist on covering up in front of me…"

"Sod off…" Alistair muttered.

Lawler crossed his arms leaned against the wall next to the mirror. "Quite." He paused for a moment. "So… did you, um, invite the Lady Cousland to the palace?"

"No. She was in my room when I got here."

"I see. If you don't mind me asking, how did she get in?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea."

Lawler cleared his throat. "And you're not worried about this?"

"No, I'm not, all right?" Alistair snapped.

"Fine." Lawler held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm just trying to do my job, and someone being able to sneak into the king's bedchamber seems a bit concerning to me."

Alistair looked in the mirror and ran a hand over his face. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just distracted, that's all. I did wonder about how she got in here, it was my first thought when I saw her." He splashed water over his face and began applying soap.

"Did you ask her?"

"No."

"Probably too busy," Lawler muttered.

Alistair sighed. "We didn't actually… do anything. And yes, I should have asked her. That's my fault." He picked up the straight razor and appraised his appearance in the mirror, turning his face this way and that in an attempt to see exactly what he needed to take care of.

A quick glance out of the corner of his eye caught Lawler's sceptical expression. "You don't believe me," he said wryly.

"Oh, I do," said Lawler. "You're a terrible liar, but I don't understand. Why—"

"It's complicated," Alistair cut him off.

"Uh huh." Lawler was frowning at Alistair, looking puzzled. "Well, that's… good?"

Running the razor over his right cheek in a few swift strokes, Alistair thought about how to respond. He couldn't tell Lawler what Rous had revealed to him, and, because the two were connected, he couldn't explain to him why he didn't make love to her, either.

He rinsed the razor. "There are still things I need to find out."

"Like how she got into your bedroom."

Alistair sighed.

"She mentioned a passage leading from the library, but I don't know if that's just a guess or if she knew something." He started on his left cheek and then paused. "I hope she didn't actually know about it.".

"That's not good, if she knew about it. We'll have to have some people look., It could be she got in earlier in the day and managed to just sneak up here and wait."

"Well, she was asleep when I found her, so I assume she was here for awhile." He rinsed the razor again and began on his neck.

"Hmmm. We'll have to see if the guards or any of the servants saw anything, though I'd hope if they had, they'd have mentioned it. I suppose she could have come in via the inner courtyard and somehow got up to a window."

"You really think so, Lawler? I mean the window would have to be open on the inside, and it's pretty cold…"

"I didn't say this window." He shook his head and groaned in frustration. "Alistair, why didn't you ask her? It would have been so much easier."

"As I said, it's complicated." He paused to work the razor carefully over his rather tricky upper lip. Complicated didn't really begin to describe what was going on right now, and he wasn't sure Lawler would understand. He wasn't sure he understood it himself.

"Do you trust her?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" he asked, pointing at his reflection in the glass.

"I'll give you that, but trusting someone after the fact isn't the same thing."

"I know, it's just…"

Sighing in frustration, he braced his hands on the washstand and let his head hang down. "Listen, the other day I did something I regret… because it was easy. Without going into the details, I made an already difficult situation even worse.

"When Rous turned me down a couple of weeks ago after coming on to me, I decided to just forget about it. Not to actively pursue her. I thought there may be a problem, that perhaps she would come around in time, she didn't seem… quite balanced. And when I first found her last night, my opinion hadn't really changed."

"And it's changed now?" Lawler asked after a moment.

"Yes."

Alistair waited, expecting more questions. But Lawler said nothing, grunted and nodded his head thoughtfully.

"Well then," he clapped Alistair on the shoulder. "I'll leave you to finish getting ready while I begin questioning your ever-vigilant guards."

                                                                                               ~...~

Standing against a wall, apart from the crowd around them, Fergus and Rous held their glasses of wine and watched the revellers. Though they were surrounded by people, none approached them, leaving the siblings to together and alone, a sombre little island in a sea of good cheer. That's the way it usually was now. Apart from political discussions—always with Fergus—the other nobles tended to leave them alone , as if they didn't know what to say to them any longer. Or as if too much contact with them would bring them bad luck or something.

Well screw them, he thought. They didn't need anyone else. They'd been able to get by just fine without them. Just fine. After all, most of them appeared to have accepted the murder of his wife, child and parents and Howe's subsequent usurpation of the Cousland title without protest or even so much as a murmur. He just could not bring himself to trust them following that.

"Another year. Dragon 35," Fergus muttered. "I suppose it's something to celebrate. And better late than never."

"Another year." Rous held up her glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers." He peered round the great hall. "This is nothing like Cailan's time, everybody and everything seems to be more settled now, more subdued."

Though the hall was thronged and there was some dancing going on, from where they were standing they caught the occasional strain of music. For all the bright clothes, lively music and hearty conversation, the festivities seemed to be muted. Perhaps it was the long winter or the illnesses going round. Or perhaps he was simply imagining things, seeing his own dark mood in those around him.

"It certainly appears that way." But then, he thought, Rosy was like part of him and almost always agreed with him so that did not really count .

"And since when did everybody stop laughing?" he said feeling miserable and thinking back to when he was younger and carefree. "Do you think Cailan's days were the good days?"

"I honestly don't know any more," she said frowning, "You were more familiar with the big parties in Denerim then than I was. I remember you used to come back to us full of racy stories. I was so jealous of you."

"The Chantry would say we had it coming. Our generation I mean."

"The Chantry…" Rous's frown quickly became a scowl. "We've been all over this. Time and again. Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but do you really think the Maker's such a pettifogger? Even if we brought it on ourselves—our generation I mean—and that's very, very questionable, what about those that didn't? You know whom I mean… And so many others…"

He nodded and drank deeply, and then looked at the crystal goblet appreciatively. "I much prefer this regime to old grim-face, anyhow…"

"I would say so."

"Wine's getting better at least…"

"See, something must be going right if the wine is improving!" His sister smiled at him brightly. She was concerned about him. It was obvious whenever they were together that she was desperate to cheer him up.

He gave her a small smile, and was rewarded by a bigger grin from her. He took in the dark blue dress with the silver star pattern she was wearing. Though she always looked nice, she seemed to have made an extra effort with her appearance this evening. "You're looking pretty, too…"

"Thanks." Rous seemed… relaxed. Happy. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen her like this, and found he had trouble doing so.

"Rous, Fergus! Happy First Day to you both." Oswyn held out his glass and they both clinked theirs against it.

"Happy First Day, Oswyn. I was beginning to think we wouldn't have one this year."

"I know, I know. Apparently, there was some discussion about cancelling it altogether. The holiday was originally about making sure neighbours had survived the winter and it serves as a welcome break, everyone felt that was still needed, especially after this winter. If you're looking for someone to blame, it's all His Majesty's fault."

"Oh?" said Fergus.

"He—we—traipsed over to Orzammar on a diplomatic jaunt at the end of last year and then he took it into his head to do some fighting in the Deep Roads, just like the good old days. He said he missed it." A roll of his eyes conveyed Oswyn's thoughts on that. "Anyway, his escapade took longer than we had anticipated. Anora nearly had a fit. Then there was that unpleasantness with the Bann, and it was thought disrespectful to hold a party too close to that. So…" Oswyn opened his arms. "Here we are, celebrating First Day in Guardian."

"Orzammar… I've never been there. What's that like, Oswyn?" asked Fergus.

"Hot, lots of rock over your head, rivers of lava… It's… unique. For the first week, I was quite unsettled… The whole otherworldliness of the place really got to me. But the dwarva are fascinating people, their records are… thorough and comprehensive. We went to a proving. It was barbaric, but fun. And female dwarves are…" Oswyn lowered his voice. "I can't really do them justice. They're different, exotic. Tough, like the stone they come from, but… sweet?"

Rosy laughed. "Oh dear, Oswyn, you look quite taken."

"I know. I was." Oswyn shook his head.

"Dwarves sound like the Chasind," mused Fergus. "When I married Oriana, I thought Antivans and their culture were exotic—which they are, to an extent, but the Chasind… And they, like Orzammar, are right on our doorstep…"

Oswyn cocked his head. "Weren't you going to write a memoir of your time among the Chasind, Fergus? Whatever happened to that?"

"Didn't get beyond the first two pages, I'm afraid. Didn't really… lost the will." Fergus emptied his glass. A helpful Elven servant refilled it for him. "Thanks" he muttered.

"If you did, I'm sure Alistair would love to read it. He's very curious about those sorts of things." Oswyn paused. "Have you seen him at all lately, Rous?"

"Only in passing…" Rosy said, lowering her eyes and taking a quick sip from her glass.

Fergus glanced at her inquisitively. Usually by this time, Rosy would be out mingling and he wondered why she wasn't. Oswyn's question nagged at him, too. Why would he have asked if she'd seen the King? He frowned slightly , and then turned back to Oswyn. Time would tell. "So, Harrowmont… How's he getting on?" he asked.

                                                                                                 ~...~

Rous looked over the great hall. She thought she'd spotted Alistair earlier out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't dare openly scan the hall while Fergus had all his attention focused on her because she knew he would pick something up. Maybe not whom she was looking for, but that she was looking for someone. And then he'd want to know who and why and she wasn't ready to answer that yet. But for now he seemed quite happy and distracted discussing dwarven politics with Oswyn.

For the last year or so, Fergus had been trying to 'come back' as he put it, to adapt to post-Blight Ferelden. To continue doing his duty as a Cousland like their parents had taught them. Rous probably wasn't doing them very proud, but Fergus had always been the more responsible of the two. He had thrown himself back into the rebuilding of Highever and recovering the teyrnir's former prosperity with single-minded purpose.

Rous also detected not a little desperation in it, a need to make his peace with the dead by safeguarding the living. "Never again." he used to say to her during their frequent long walks together at Highever. "Never again. We must make sure that what happened to us, our family never happens to anyone else in Ferelden again. Ever."

Rous wasn't sure that either of them could actually ensure that, although she was in agreement with him that at the very least they owed it to their departed loved ones to try.

However, there was no one to continue the line so when she and Fergus passed, the Couslands of Highever would be history.

There were days, she admitted to herself, when that thought really upset her and days when she no longer cared—when she just wanted a little brightness for herself at any cost. Occasionally it was like having Eleanor, her mother, inside her head. Eleanor who, while she never openly criticised Rous's headstrong ways, believed so fervently in the inherent happiness that settling down with the right person could bring. Her parents had been so close…

She felt a light touch on her shoulder. "Hello Rous," said a voice behind her. Startled, she turned a bit too quickly and her wine slopped over her hand.

"Um… Hello, Your Majesty."

He looked faintly amused. He was dressed a scarlet surcoat and dark breeches. Scarlet did not really suit him. It was too vivid and it swamped his complexion somewhat. "I've been trying to catch up with you all evening, but people kept getting in the way. Anyway… You look beautiful," he said quietly.

"Sire," said Fergus from behind them. "Excellent wine. What is it?" Rous could feel his eyes examining both of them as he addressed Alistair. "And by the way, happy, belated, First Day." He held out his glass.

"Yes, sorry about that, Teyrn, It was entirely my fault. The wine is from the Free Marches, actually," said Alistair clinking his goblet against Fergus's and then against Rous's.

"Huh," said Fergus, holding it up to the light. "Good colour…"

The small group fell silent for a moment. "I, ah, was just telling your sister how pretty she looks." Alistair added

"She does, doesn't she?" Fergus grinned at her. "I'm trying to convince her to marry someone," he said.

"Really?" asked Alistair, his tone just a bit hesitant. "Rous didn't, ah, mention that."

"Yes. Really." Replied Fergus pulling a serious face and narrowing his eyes. "Rosy needs to be making little Couslands, like tomorrow."

"Do you have anyone in mind, Teyrn?" To Rous Alistair tried seemed to be making an effort to keep the question mild.

"Not yet, I am still considering her options… But I will tell you something… "

"Yes?" Said Alistair weakly.

"Any man that takes this little minx on…" Fergus put his arm around Rous's waist and pulled her to him, "Will have to have the patience of Andraste, the resourcefulness of Calenhad, and the feistiness of a prime Mabari stud…"

"Your Highness…" Rous had flushed and she sidestepped Fergus's arm.

"Yes, Lady Cousland?"

"I feel a sudden inclination to dance." Rous held out her hand and Alistair took it.

When they were a few steps away, Alistair whispered vehemently, "Rous, what the hell—"

"I need to scream, Alistair, take me somewhere where I can scream, quickly now…"

Alistair ushered Rous into a hallway and from there to a little side room on the way to the chapel. He slammed the door behind them and then allowed himself to fall heavily against it.

"Rous, please tell me—" He said with urgency he felt as if he were about to start howling, too. Howling or whimpering…

Rous went quickly over to the opposite wall with her back to him braced her hands against it, lowered her head, took a very deep breath and issued two ear-piercing screams.

"Rous, what the—"

"Bloody, bloody, bloody Fergus!" She had bunched her right hand into a fist and started thumping the wall.

Alistair went to her quickly, and caught her wrist in a gentle but firmly grip. "Breathing deeply might help," he suggested. "Your hands are too pretty to hurt. Now…"

Rous took a deep breath through her nose, turned to face Alistair, and leaned against the wall. He released her wrist.

"Fergus…" she said, "…was making a joke. A joke at our expense, Alistair. That ass."

"A joke?" asked Alistair.

"A joke. The first time he makes a joke in almost four years and it has to be today, here in front of you." She said wiping her face with her sleeve. "Idiot. I'll make sure he pays very dearly for this…"

Alistair looked at her stunned.

"What?" she said, "You really think he would marry me off? And you think I would let him and wouldn't tell you something like that?"

"Well, I… He seemed…" He searched for the right response. What did he know about how nobles went about these things?

"Alistair, the Cousland way is to sow your oats and then marry for love," Rous said patiently shaking her head. "It's been like that for generations, it could almost be our family motto. How else do you think Fergus himself ended up espoused to an Antivan commoner?"

"I don't understand."

"I usually share everything with Fergus. He's the only one, well, one of the only ones, who doesn't judge me. But I didn't tell him about us. Whatever 'us' is." She paused. "Fergus and I can read each other like a book, especially when it comes to… love and such. Also Oswyn may have let something slip… So when he saw you and me sharing pleasantries…"

"Why would he Fergus do that?"

"Put simply, Fergus likes to tease me, he always has. That changed after... Well, you know... He hasn't been the Fergus I knew for years and now suddenly he was himself again for a minute." She sighed, "He may also have been a little annoyed that I didn't confide in him and wanted to make me pay for it."

                                                                                               ~...~          

As they disappeared into the crowd, Fergus clasped a hand to his chest and made a strangled sound in his throat.

"Fergus, are you all right?" asked Oswyn anxiously.

"Oh, Maker…" he choked out.

Looking around, Oswyn grabbed Fergus and hustled him into a corridor outside the main hall. Once they were there, Fergus collapsed on his haunches, still making that choking sound, his forgotten wine glass falling to floor.

Oswyn squatted down to assist Fergus whose face had turned a mottled hue. The large bearded man suddenly grabbed him and they both nearly overbalanced.

There were tears streaming down Fergus's face, his eyes were scrunched up and suddenly Oswyn realised…

…Fergus was laughing.

Between wracking guffaws, Fergus was clawing at Oswyn, "Oh, Maker, oh, that little hussy! There's definitely something going on between them. He went pale and Rosy went red and…" Fergus chortled some more and then he suddenly stopped "Wait a minute… Os, you knew… You knew and you didn't tell me!"

Fergus had met Oswyn socially a few times since he had escorted Rous home from the Summer's Eve party. They'd the occasional drink together and chatted about politics. Since he too was a victim of Howe's he was free from the suspicion with which Fergus viewed the others of his class.

Oswyn backed off slightly and waved off the concerned guard coming toward them. He dropped his voice. "Hang on right there, Fergus. I knew they had met a couple of times, nothing more. I had no idea about anything else."

Fergus grabbed the other man's doublet. "Truly?"

"Truly, Fergus" His calm blue gaze met Fergus's brown one. "Now let me go… Thank you." Oswyn stood up, straightened his clothing and then helped Fergus to his feet and straightened his.

Fergus exhaled, "There's something there. I could swear to it. Just that certain expression in Rosy's eyes when she looked at him, the way she looked at him… I know my sister."

"And so?" It took temerity to probe further, but Oswyn felt that if there was going to be a problem, say if Fergus was going to make a scene, he needed to alert Alistair and Rous to it quickly.

"Who am I to tell her what she should do? Bloody hell, do I need a drink…" He looked at his empty hand and then at the shattered glass lying on floor. "Yes, another one. If she's got the slightest chance at happiness, let her grab at it with both hands. Life is short… So damned short…" He looked back at the remains of his goblet smashed to smithereens in a pool of Free Marches wine.

                                                                                                  ~...~  

"I think we need to talk, Rous." Alistair said.

"About what?"

"About… things. You know…"

"Tell me," Rous prompted.

He opened his arms, spread his hands. "I'm not very good at this. Me. You."

"Talk then, Alistair."

He sighed. "Where can I even—?"

She pulled his face to hers and kissed him.

"That was very sweet," he said.

"Kisses first… Talk later…" Rous suggested

So Alistair had begun kissing her forehead. Then her eyelids. Then the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Then he had moved to her jaw, just under her left ear. Then down her neck to where it met her shoulder. Finally, he had gotten to her cleavage and was diligently planting a whole bouquet of kisses there…

He heard her earrings tinkled faintly as Rous responded to the kisses and stroked the back of his head. The more they tinkled the more she liked the kiss, he thought.

The door opened Lawler poked his head in. "'Scuse me. Sorry. Again… IQ, Alistair, coming this way."

Alistair froze his lips an inch from Rous's breasts. "Bugger."

"I who?" Asked Rous.

"Anora…" He paused. "Right, I'll head her off, Lawler look after Rous…"

Alistair dashed out of the room, leaving Lawler and Rous looking somewhat uncomfortably at each other for a moment.

Lawler looked over at Rous. "So… how are you this evening, Lady Cousland?"

"Well enough. Yourself?"

"Very well, thank you. Well, if he's managed to distract his wife, then I guess I'm going to have to escort you back to the main hall for the speeches and toasts"

"Agreed." She drifted across the room and proffered her arm. Lawler linked his with it and they left the chamber.

"So what does IQ stand for?" Rous asked.

Lawler heaved a sigh. "'Ice Queen,' actually."

Rous giggled, but quieted herself after a moment. "I should introduce you to my brother. You might get along. I last saw you at the drinking bout, right?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Richelle said you were very amusing."

"Did she? How is your cousin?"

"She's fine, but she's not here tonight. She belongs to the less noble more unassuming side of our family, but if you have a drop of our blood you're a Cousland and that's what counts for us: Family, not status…"

"Did it take you long to recover from that evening?"

"You mean from passing out through drinking too much?"

"Yes."

"I had a splitting head for about a day. Wretched malt."

"You two… I mean you and Alistair. You behave like guys would…"

"How come?" Lady C tilted her head, seemed interested.

"I mean all this roguishness, the witty remarks, the crudeness, the one-upmanship... It's as if you're competing against each other for something, but you're not. Not really…" Lawler glanced at her to see if she was following what he was saying. He thought she was, "It's just a substitute for…" He looked at her with his sharp eyes and the slightly lopsided smile and let the phrase hang.

She chose not to take the bait head-on. "I blame Fergus for that, you know. My only sibling. From when I could first walk, he would always spar with me at least once a day to keep me on form… In a puddle of mud if possible… I was about thirteen when it first struck me that not all girls spent part of their day fighting and most of their evenings wringing mud from their hair…"

They entered the great hall. "You're going to have to point Fergus out to me," Lawler said.

"He was wearing green, and he'll be somewhere towards the back." Rous peered around, looking for her brother.

They found him looking the worse for wear, looking somewhat out of sorts and abashed, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels overseen warily by Oswyn.

"Ah, Rosy, only you would leave the room on one handsome man's arm and return so shortly on another's."

"Shut it, Fergus or I'll enact here what I have planned for you at home," Rous hissed in a fierce whisper. Lawler noted that Lady C could really put a threatening edge on her voice when she wished. Fergus, prudently, shut it.

Lawler grinned and offered her a quick bow. "Good evening, Lady Cousland." He nodded toward Oswyn and Fergus. "Your Lordship, Teyrn. Have a good evening." And then he turned and left them.

It was only later, once he took up his post watching out discreetly for Alistair and Anora that he realised that he too had forgotten to ask Lady C how she had gotten into a King's bedroom…

                                                                                               ~...~

Alistair had grabbed Anora by the arm and steered her in a half circle so they were suddenly walking in the opposite direction.

"Alistair, where were you? It's nearly time for the toast and speech."

"Of course it is and that's where we're heading." They were going down the corridor towards the back of the building in order to go up the staircase that would take them to an elevated balcony at the front of the great hall from which they were to deliver the toast.

"Don't talk down to me as if I were one of your fancy women." Shaking off his hand, she turned toward him. "Be frank with me…"

Alistair took a step back and clasped his hands behind him. Deflection almost always worked on his wife. "Anora dearest," he began, knowing she hated him addressing her like that, and annoyance always helped to distract her. "One, I don't have 'fancy women,' as you call them and, two, even if I did I wouldn't talk down to them."

"You are an impossible man," she remarked disdainfully, picking up her skirts and following him up the staircase.

They arrived at the double door opening up onto the balcony.

"You, for a change, are doing the last part of the speech this evening, the final toast, the blessing of the year," Alistair reminded her, "Are you ready for it?"

In previous years, Anora had delivered the first part of the speech, welcoming friends and neighbours to their hearth after the long hard winter—by tradition, winter always had to be described as long and hard, even if it had been relatively mild—whereas Alistair had pronounced the latter part wishing everybody good luck and prosperity for the year in course. Although, again, this was in accordance with established tradition, the wife doing the welcoming and the husband delivering the blessing, this year they had both agreed to swap.

"Of course I am!" and she recited what she was going to say in a rush. Alistair really did annoy her sometimes so she often reacted to it, against her better judgment.

"Well, there you go…" Her sharpness never ceased to impress him. They were just very different personalities. "Do you wish to count?" They appraised each other's appearance very quickly, Anora fussing a bit about his hair, Alistair making sure the pendent of her pearl necklace was set perfectly to the front.

"One…" She said, they both adjusted their posture and the way they were standing and the way they hung on to each other and clasped the full wine glasses they had been passed.

"Two…" They assumed the right facial expression. Not too happy but not too serious either, eyes slightly wider than usual.

"Three… Deep breath… Here we go…" Anora said.

They stepped forward and the guards opened the double doors for them.

                                                                                                  ~...~

"Well, that was unconventional," said Fergus once Alistair rejoined them. "Which of you had the idea to swap around the speeches?"

"We both did, really. … I tend to get bored pretty quickly and Anora likes to challenge herself so we were of a mind…"" He was carefully avoiding looking directly at Rous. "Ahem, Fergus, Rous, changing the subject a little, I've recently bought some Antivan horses and now I need someone to teach me how to ride, I understand you both—"

"Rous was always a better rider than I," interrupted Fergus. "And she has more patience." He paused. "I need yet another drink… and a woman… Where are all the women?" He said muttering to himself walking away from them trailed by Oswyn.

"Well…" said Alistair, watching him disappear into the throng.

"He's in his cups and angry," Rous said quietly. "At himself. Embarrassed and trying to make amends, I think." She turned and focused her full attention on Alistair. "Now, tell me all about these horses…"

Modifié par Maria13, 09 février 2011 - 11:36 .

[Addai]

Well written, thoughtful as always. You're very good with character interaction. I liked the tension with Fergus and Rosy- a good mix of the tragic and affectionate in what would be a very complicated sibling relationship after what happened to them.

I'm nervous about Cous becoming a fixture!  No doubt projecting my own Surana's hopes. Also there's so much Alistair-Cousland out there so maybe I've had my fill.  I shall be patient and see what develops.

Modifié par Addai67, 10 février 2011 - 04:29 .

[Maria13]

Chapter 51

Dragon 9:35 Pluritanis/Guardian Denerim [Present]

Fergus and Rous had established a pre-sleep routine from which they only deviated very rarely.

Three in the morning following the First Day party found them both sitting opposite each other over a wooden table in the still cosy kitchen of their Denerim residence. The servants had all been allowed the night off. Fergus had made them each a large steaming mug of warm goat's milk with a spoonful of honey.

Fergus put his hand over his mouth and yawned, "So little sister, the next to last Cousland is bonking the very last Therein, the one born the wrong, or was it the right? Side of the blanket… Cailan was a good guy but essentially a bit of a knucklehead—"

"You didn't always used to think like that about Cailan, Fergus. I recall you adored him, once upon a time, said he was your role model." Rous clutched her mug in both hands, tipped it up to her face, and drank.

Fergus cleared his throat, "Emphasise the once, Rosy, then I grew up…"

Rous objected, "Oh, c'mon it lasted several years at least. You even tried to walk and talk like him which was pretty funny. But it was for a long time, for a very long time until…" she paused and put the mug on the table. "No," She said, "No, no, no, no…" shaking her head with vehemence.

"What's on your mind? Tell me." Coaxed Fergus.

Rous leaned forward over her mug, "It just occurred to me… That all your Cailan worship came to a stop after he… stayed with us at Highever for five days…" She said slowly, half closing her eyes. "In the summer of 29…"

Fergus looked at her gravely.

Rous opened her eyes suddenly, "I didn't realise you knew…" She whispered.

"Rosy," Said Fergus also in a whisper, although strictly speaking they were quite alone so it was unnecessary, "Not everything is in the telling. Our whole family knew… Father was… not disappointed…"

Rous flinched, she had adored Bryce with every fibre of her being as only a daughter could adore a doting father, "No, not that… Upset, aggrieved. He thought Cailan had taken advantage of you. He wanted to confront him… I told him I would deal with it. So that it would look simply like a squabble between two high-spirited young men rather than a full-blown conflict between our family and the King… I managed to convince Father, you know. I was very proud of that."

Rous pondered his words for a while. Her brother used the pause to finish his milk, finally, she said, "You know what, Fergus?"

"Yes, sweet sister…" Fergus replied in dulcet tones anticipating a stormy riposte.

"It was nobody's bloody business but Cailan's and mine!"

Fergus took that on chin and then smiled a very satisfied smile. "But it just felt so good to have a legitimate excuse to beat that arrogant ****** up and warn him off… Soooooo good…"

Rous laughed and then snorted…

"Watch out love," said Fergus. "The milk nearly came out of your nose there…" Then Rous did choke so Fergus got up and thumped her between the shoulder blades until she recovered with an ungraceful splutter.

"Alistair is not Cailan." She said bluntly once they had both stopped laughing. "He actually refused to bed me… After I'd shown him…" Her hand strayed to her right breast.

Fergus took a breath suddenly furious. "Idiot!"

"No Fergus no, it's not like that, no, Andraste help me…" Rous reached out to him putting a hand on his arm and struggled to explain, "Alistair, wanted me. That was very clear; we spent the night together but…"

"Rosy, you are not making any sense… I'm sober now, I think, and you're really not…"

"Fergus: We didn't actually do the deed. Because he thought… I think he thought, I… Well, anyway, what we did do is spend the night together in his bed. Him in his breeches and me in my shirt. We both kept our smallclothes on…"

Fergus leaned back, "Whew, Rosy, what can I say? That's a first for the Couslands… 'And here we have, ladies and gentlemen, a portrait of the ravishingly beautiful Rosaura Cousland… Madam at the back there… can you please take your child outside? The continuous flow of snot from his nose is most distracting… Where was I? Oh yes, who is famous, of course, for going to bed with King Alistair of Ferelden without bopping him…'"

"That's very funny…"

"It is when you think about it… What are you going to do, Rosy? Are you going to give him his riding lessons?"

"I am. Why not? Mainly because it sounds like fun. I miss riding and he said if I teach him he'll give me one of the horses."

"That's generous. Horses… it seems such a long time. We should get some ourselves. But is this, you, him, going anywhere?" He said stretching and yawning.

"Does it need to?" She suddenly looked tired.

"I guess only you can answer that really."

"I would agree."

"Just tell me next time… and be careful, he's the King, he's married…"

"There wasn't really that much to tell…" She emptied her own mug and then, seeing that he was about to protest, she said, "I know, I know."

"Keep me informed, Rosy," He scolded, "I'm your big bro' and I will always feel bound to look after you… When I am not teasing you mercilessly, of course. When's the first lesson?"

"Tomorrow morning. We agreed it should be early …"

                                                                                                          ~...~

Alistair greeted Rous with a chaste kiss on the forehead. Day had broken barely half an hour ago and they were both stifling yawns in the chill courtyard.

"Lets look at what you're wearing," she bent down and examined his breeches, her breath came out in a puff in the cold air, "OK they look tough." She pulled the cloth at his knee.

"What are you doing?" He asked sounding mildly curious.

"Just seeing if they're loose enough there to allow you to move your knees comfortably when riding. Boots… Seem alright but I would suggest you tuck your breeches into them" She said straightening up. "What about your doublet, it's not too tight around the shoulders, is it?" She ran her hand inside its collar in a wholly non-sexual way, "You've got to able to move your arms freely…" She was obviously all business this morning and a tad bossy. That helped.

Smiling at her, Alistair flexed his shoulders, shrugged several times backwards, and forwards, mildly aware that he was showing off. "Alright, alright." She said holding up a hand.

Then they moved on to the horses and with Eoin's and Jonah's assistance, they introduced them to her. Suddenly her detached stance was set aside, although she did not actually 'uh' and 'ah', she did talk to them quietly, tickled them, and stroked them, putting her head next to theirs. She asked Eoin a few questions to which he replied very precisely. Alistair found himself silently passing her apples and carrots that Eoin had thoughtfully begun to keep in sacks near the stables so she could feed them all a treat.

After she had been introduced to all ten Rous and Alistair stood in the centre of the yard. Her whole attitude had altered, there was a mellowed out, besotted expression on her face, she looked relaxed. Alistair felt like draping an arm over her shoulder and squeezing her but that would be inappropriate this morning, somehow, he felt. Therefore, he just whispered to her quietly putting his face close to hers, "I know how you feel… they make me feel like that too."

Rous looked grateful for this confidence and then she squared up and said to him, "So which one are you riding?"

Alistair made a quick gesture to Jonah, "Dusk." He said as Jonah led him out.

Rous frowned. "He's the stallion…"

"So you noticed." He said grinning.

"Ha bloody ha." Rous cast a glance at Eoin, "Has he told you about stallions?"

"Yes he has."

"How awkward they are, moody, temperamental, difficult to govern, impossible to use for a surprise attack…"

"Yep."

"And still you persist?"

"That's right."

"And here I was thinking Cailan was the fool and you were the clever one…"

Alistair grinned even wider and bowed slightly from the waist, "I am so sorry to disappoint you, Milady…"

Rous clipped him lightly over the ear. Alistair went, "Ow?"

"They whicker… Do you know what that is?"

"like neigh?"

"Yes, sort of, in the wild they call out to other horses… So the others know how fierce they are and that they are headed in their direction…"

"The more I hear, the more I like… Have you thought about your mount?"

Rous hesitated, "Well, should I take the mare… That may cause problems with Dusk later on…"

"If you really wanted to take the mare, I could ride one of the geldings…" Said Alistair.

"That's generous of you." She said and Alistair shrugged, "But no. I see you're set on Dusk and I think I was going to choose one of the geldings, anyway."

"Sure?"

"Yes."

They walked quickly around the stalls again, "Yes. I'll have that one, the dark brown one."

"Fine, have you thought of a name… You don't have to choose what horse you would like to keep just yet, but if you can help me with naming them…"

"Not just yet." Rous paused while Jonah handed her a bridle and she went in to put it on the gelding. Then she asked, "What was Calenhad's horse called?" while she was fitting the gelding up.

"The one Bann Camenae of Waking Sea kindly killed from under him with a single arrow shot or the one that replaced it?" He asked from the stable door.

Rous frowned she had forgotten that part of the legend, "The replacement."

"That one was called 'Hope', the horse that died was 'Faith'. If one is to believe the Chantry and Brother Herren on the matter, Calenhad had a pious bent when it came to naming his horses… I studied history, with the Templars, you see. They were pretty hot on old Calenhad… So was I." He explained somewhat bashfully.

"Hope's a good name…" She said leading the horse out.

"I think so."

"Do you like Hope?" She asked the gelding stroking his mane, he whinnied gently. A good sign. "And Calenhad was from Highever." She added for Alistair's benefit.

He nodded and then said, "Let me show you the saddles Eoin and I dug up…"

For their first lesson Rous and Alistair stayed with the palace courtyard, they went through putting on a saddle, mounting, and the basics of a proper seat, making the horse walk, turn and stop and dismounting. After about two hours at the agreed end of the lesson and with horses re-stabled Rous asked him, "How many times a week do you want to do this?"

"At least five," Alistair replied.

"We in a hurry?" She asked.

"We are, actually," He said.

"Why?"

"I'll tell you soon…"

Rous shook her head "Always with the mystery, Alistair…"

He smiled looking boyish. "Hey, I need it to keep you interested in me… A man without mystery is like… Oh I don't know, I'm sure I'll think of something, but don't hold it against me…"

Rous nodded briefly, "Until tomorrow then."

"Yeah, until tomorrow."

                                                                                                        ~...~

Just over two weeks later and they had developed the habit of starting the lesson by riding east from the Royal Palace to Denerim dockside and then some distance south following the coast of the Amaranthine Sea and back again before Denerim really woke up and the streets became too busy and distracting for the horses.

They were enjoying their rides on the beach so much that Alistair was beginning to talk about setting up a small stable somewhere in the port so they could spend more time of some of the lessons on the Amaranthine coast cantering in the sea breeze.

Alistair was learning very quickly. He liked the horses, clearly enjoyed the lessons and was also driven by a practical need. As he pointed out to Rous, riding would cut his travel time in half and he liked to get out of Denerim fairly frequently. Rous also hoped that her teaching had contributed somewhat.

It was a grey morning, typical of Guardian and the Amaranthine to their left was a blend of dark greens and slate. There was quite a chill wind coming from the south and they were riding straight into it at a brisk trot. Rous had so far refused to teach Alistair to gallop because she insisted he needed to learn to do everything else well before learning that.

Rous was almost half a mile away when she realised he was no longer following. She steered Hope around gently and looked behind her. Alistair was sitting on the strand with Dusk capering next to him. She rode slowly back, her Hope's hoof marks being erased haphazardly by the waves as she went.

"My bum hurts…" He sulked, then a breaker sloshed under him, "And I'm wet…"

"Are you all right…" Rous asked.

He didn't answer directly, "Wretched beast…" He said looking askew at Dusk.

"You need to get up and reassure him…"

"Reassure… him?" He said his hazel eyes wide with incredulity.

"My countless years of practice." She said haughtily, "Tell me you need to get off of your arse, Sire, reassure Dusk and remount. You understand what happened, he doesn't he's worried. That's why you have to do the reassuring."

"Very well." He grumbled and leaning on his arms hoisted himself up. His backside and breeches were sopping wet and plastered with moist sand. Rous had to bite her tongue to keep herself from laughing.

He limped over to Dusk and said, "C'm here you stupid beast." In a soft voice to which the stallion immediately responded. Alistair caught his bridle and spoke to him in an undertone gently caressing his muzzle and then patting his flank.

As she watched him do this Rous thought that despite everything that had happened to him, every role he had been compelled to play and duty he had undertaken, Alistair retained a vast reserve of tenderness and capacity for affection that must be inborn.

Sighing and with more deftness than she expected, Alistair held the reins with the right tightness just as she had taught him, grabbed the saddle pommel, caught the stirrup hooked his foot in to it and then with a small spring got himself back up into the saddle. He brought Dusk up to stand next to her.

"Well done." Rous murmured, "Your first real fall, you still live and you are back in the saddle in ten minutes."

"My backside is really going to ache later on… thanks to riding I've also recently discovered muscles in places I never thought I had them."

"Poor you."

He smiled looking ahead tasting brine on his lips. "You have no mercy, Rous…"

She ignored that. "Off we go then." And lightly tapping Hope's side with her feet she set off at a canter. Alistair followed.

"Since you are now formally my equestrian teacher, why don't you come for a ride cross country with me?" He suggested a little later.

Rous turned towards him slightly, the wind has grown stronger and her hair was whipping wildly about her face, her eyes were narrowed to avoid the spray, her cheeks glowed as if with fever, beaten by the blustery weather. She looked stunning. "Where will we be going..."

"South Reach or the Brecilian Forest, somewhere thereabouts, anyway. I have to pay a visit and bring someone back to Denerim. We could take a spare horse. I'd like to leave in about a weeks' time."

Rous sighed.

"Please. It will be a bit of an adventure, one of my escapades." Said Alistair attempting to sound cheeky, recalling how she always seemed quite keen to hear about his extra-curricular activities.

"Who will we be visiting and whom are we collecting?" she asked pointedly.

"I'll explain the first when we get going… As to the second, you'll find out when we get there. I think it will do us both good. By the way, this is not an attempt to seduce you… Not really..."

"Alas, I am broken-hearted." She said casting a disdainful glance in his direction.

"But I've noticed that unless we have something to do at hand… Like riding horses," He paused to catch his breath speaking into the wind was exhilarating but very tiring, "we're too busy pawing at each other to talk and we need to give ourselves a break, you obviously have things to tell and I would be privileged to hear them… As for me…"

"I need to make sure Fergus will be all right by himself first…" She said not making eye contact.

"I understand. I see the trip as an opportunity to talk and work things out between us."


Author's Note: Many thanks to G who provided me with some background details on horses and learning to ride.

[Esbatty]

Wow its been awhile. I truly do like the revisions that were made to the previous chapters. To me it helped Alistair and Rous both get to grow beyond their past reputations and actions. That one moment with Fergus being his old self... SO SPOT ON to how what I loved about him in the Origins. He is the big brother I never had and thus having the once moody downtrodden Elder cousland tease his little sis mercilessly was PRICELESS. I defintely love your take on the Couslands.



And yes, Alistair's mysteries really do make him far more intriguing. Hardened Alistair, while not my cup of tea, is just very well damn done by you M. I really dig him under your authorship. That and, again, you so "get" Morrigan. While I don't see her in anyway, shape, or form as a some kind of villian or negative entity, I like what you're doing with her in Dark Ritual.



It was nice being able to tuck away a couple of solid chapters. Really needed that pick me up! Great work, M!

[Maria13]

Dear Esbatty

What can I say? Welcome back and thanks for the comments.

Glad you like the re-write. I am also pleased you like Fergus, I always thought he tended towards the teasing/outrageous I have an uncle a bit like him. He is great producing howls of protest from his female relatives...

I found myself liking Morrie too.

Finally, it is exhilarating to know that your writing can be used as a pick-me up by someone. Happiness is the best in my book, and if some of the satisfaction I get from writing can transfer to the reader, so much the better! Mission accomplished.

Modifié par Maria13, 15 février 2011 - 01:15 .

[Maria13]

Chapter 52

Dragon 9:35 Nublis/Drakonis The West Road [Present]

They had set off at dawn. Rous on Hope and Alistair on Dusk. They had decided not to take a spare horse after all. Rous would have had to train it to pony and Alistair was in a rush, he had pointed out that in any event, since they were keeping to a main road they would not have to camp out in the open on the way. As soon as they had lost sight of the walls of Denerim from the West Road Alistair started to explain where they were going.

"The reason why I was not specific as to where we are going is because we are visiting the Izrail, Israfil or Azrail clan the transcription into Fereldan varies, I understand."

"A Dalish Elven clan you mean?"

"Exactly."

"I heard… I heard there was a clan that sent troops to the battle of Denerim…"

"Yes. They were members of this clan, their Keeper or leader is a mage called Lanaya. I've sent word ahead to her that we're coming. They will look out for us on the road and then escort us to their temporary camp in the forest when they see us. They never reveal their exact location to 'fast children' if they can possibly help it. I expect the camp to be at least a couple of miles from the road."

"And you have kept in touch with them." This was far more exciting than Rous had dared anticipate.

"Yes."

"How did they become your allies?" She asked with curiosity.

"You mean the companions' allies? You must never forget, Rous, that out leader was Neriya. I was just one of the companions. Basically we helped them with a problem and they pledged and gave us their assistance in exchange."

"What was the problem?"

Alistair explained the story of the Dalish and the werewolves.

"Elves, werewolves, talking trees and spirits of nature…" After he had finished the tale Rous looked at him her head tilted to one side.

"What can I say?" He said shrugging, "I was there, that is what happened… I am not asking you to believe me… Thinking back on it, I am certain the Maker favoured us in that part of our quest. We were able to lift the curse with relatively little bloodshed and reach a settlement that left both parties happy."

The west Road was quite busy by mid-morning mostly with travellers on foot clearly leaving or heading for Denerim and the odd ox cart. Their horses attracted quite a lot of attention and admiration. However, Fereldans being as they were, kept mostly to themselves and left them alone apart from bidding them good day even though Alistair got the distinct impression that the occasional trekker might have recognised him.

"My story is prosaic in comparison." Said Rous eventually.

"But I want to hear it nonetheless."

                                                                                               ~...~         

"Everyone knows now what happened at Highever… How my family and all the members of my household were slaughtered in a single night. I have little to add to that picture. I managed to get away because there was a secret passageway leading from a cellar that was unknown to Howe and his men. I made my way there through our holding with my mother. As you may know, she had a reputation for being an excellent archer and it happened that we fought well together. When finally we got to the cellar, we found my father covered in blood…"

Rous shook her head. "Apparently he had managed to drag himself there. By the time we found him he could no longer move, he was fatally injured, my mother took his head in her lap and refused to leave his side… They both told me to go, to go find Fergus, appeal to the King for justice, and avenge them.

"Live.

"I protested, I did, I suggested we should all try to get out… They wouldn't hear of it, and in the end… I left them. I left them to Howe and his troops and saved my own skin… I was barely 22."

"I… It must have been extremely difficult for you. Leaving your parents like that…"

"I think about it every day, even when I don't want to. I've dreamt about it countless times. Sometimes, we all escape and are happy once more. Even Oriana and Oren are there… But most of the time it's just the same thing happening again and again… and there's nothing I can do about it…

"I suppose for all my bravado and arrogance, and I had a lot then, the main problem was dealing with being alone. So very alone and so suddenly. I had no real idea what to do or where to go. Fergus, of course, had ridden off to Ostagar… But where was Ostagar? How did I get there? My mother, wise woman that she was, had ensured I picked up supplies, weapons and some coin as we made our way through Highever. If she hadn't I would have been in even a worse situation.

"I collected myself eventually, a very cold-blooded, practical side of me kicked in, and I realised should try to put distance between myself and the passageway exit. Preferably, I should attempt to make my way south to the North Road.

"Well fortunately they didn't chase me. I think it wasn't until late the next day when that bastard Howe had time to survey the dead that he had any inkling that I could be missing. By then I had made it to the road and bought passage with a carter who was heading west with some vegetables, beans, carrots and so forth for Kinloch Hold.

"You think riding a horse is painful. Try jolting along in an ox cart for about a week. By the time we got to the Tower of Mages, it felt as if all my joints had been displaced. My muscles ached… Still I had made good time and preserved energy, which was what I wanted.

"I was almost relieved to walk. Almost relieved. It felt good to stretch my limbs at first. I skirted Lake Calenhad always aiming to go south, always following the road.

"I felt very vulnerable. I mostly hid when I thought anything would be a danger to me. I especially tried to avoid groups of men. I also saw what must be Darkspawn for the first time hugely ugly fearsome creatures.

"My aim then was to remain alive and get to Ostagar. Find Fergus and petition the King. Surely Cailan would listen to me if only for past times' sake if I reached him. As I put one foot in front of the other, I began to believe that this was possible, that things would sort themselves out… that the nightmare I had found myself in would come to an end.

"It took me just over two weeks walking to get to Ostagar.

"The signs as I approached were not good. The Imperial Highway that I was now on appeared to be damaged and scorched. Cadavers were frequent. They frightened me. I would scuttle past them as fast as I could, pretending they weren't there…

"I ignored what my intuition was telling me. The west wind brought the stench of death and decay to my nose but still I told myself that all was well, the battle must have taken place already. The showdown. Fergus would be alive. King Cailan would be victorious. The few surviving Darkspawn would have retreated to the gloomy abode from whence they had emerged in the first place.

"All would be well, all would be well, all would be well…

"That was what I was saying to myself like a prayer or a litany when I walked over the crest of the last hill and looked down at the valley below me.

"And I saw…

"Did you see the immediate aftermath of Ostagar, Alistair?"

"No." He replied in a hushed voice. His face looked ashen, "Neriya and I were both recovering from being wounded after lighting the fire in the Tower of Ishael. It was described to me… and we went back to the battlefield a few months afterwards… It was covered in snow by then. But not the immediate aftermath, no."

"It was like a field of flesh… There were tangles of sinews and limbs everywhere. Raw rotting meat strewn about the earth, wherever I looked. Mottled and discoloured, mounds of it… Just lying there… It was hard to believe that, not so long ago, those piles of offal had been living, moving, feeling beings… The smell was too awful for words… Sweet at first and then turning sickly, stale and putrid.

"I felt faint. I felt like turning away, going back down the hill and then walking back up again to see if anything had changed. But I knew that wouldn't work. So I went down.

"Up until then I had been able to tell myself, unconvincingly, that this was a Darkspawn rout that Ferelden had prevailed. But as a I drew nearer there could be no doubt. Most of the eyeless, gape-mouthed, sunken-cheeked, sallow corpses were unmistakably human.

"Worse than anything was the thought that that one of those twisted bodies had once been my brother Fergus but there were so many, I did not have a hope of finding him.

"I tried though…

"A month ago, barely a month ago, I had been eating off china plates, entertaining casual lovers in my bed chamber, surrounded by a doting, caring family, never wanting for suitors or friends.

"Now as it occurred to me that Fergus would want me to live, I found myself overturning rotting cadavers, looking for him but also plundering the dead as I went, a soiled rag tied over my mouth and nose in an attempt to reduce the stench and to keep off the flies; routing among maggots and putrefaction, looking for clothes, weapons, money anything that would help me survive.

"Utterly alone."

They trotted in silence for half a mile or so and then Rous said in a strangled voice, "I can't carry on talking about this today. Just recalling it all is making me feel sick."

"That's understandable."

"Thanks for listening."

                                                                                                 ~...~

After a further ten minutes Rous said, "Talk to me Alistair. Distract me. Tell me something about yourself…"

Alistair sat up a bit straighter in his saddle and ran a hand through is hair, his eyes glinted. "This is a secret…" He said.

"Ah the man of mystery returns…," remarked Rous.

Alistair smiled faintly at her. "My mother was an Elf."

"What?" said Rous

"An Elf. A mage. An Orleisian. A Grey Warden." He said taking some care to enunciate the words very clearly, in order to make himself understood. It felt good to let it all tumble out at once like that.

Rous looked suitably taken aback. She suddenly seemed to be examining him carefully as if to detect any external traces of Elven ancestry. "I thought she… Rumour has it she was a serving wench in Redcliffe. A human."

"Until very recently that's what I thought, too."

                                                                                            ~...~

"…so I was conceived in Orzammar." He concluded. "I cannot imagine how anyone could… Well, you know, down there. In the Deep Roads, I mean. Orzammar, the city is actually quite a nice place. But the Deep Roads, I've been there twice now, they're filthy, the dust gets everywhere, your hair, your eyes, and dangerous… when they're not as creepy as hell, of course."

"They must have been desperate. A King and a mage… That is very romantic."

"I believe so, they must have thought they were going to die, so, who gives a toss… And, yes, it is."

"'End of the world sex.'" Summed up Rous.

"That's right," He concurred, "'end of the world sex.'"

There was a slight pause. "Have you ever done that?" She asked curiously.

Alistair hesitated. It was a direct question. This was not something he had planned on revealing to Rous at this early stage of getting to know each other, he hoped he could escape for the time being without having to disclose too much detail, but he refused to lie. "Uh… Sort of, actually… And you?"

"Yes." She said, "This is turning out to be quite a journey…"

"I told you it would be worth your while."

                                                                                                ~...~

"Nothing quite like a traditional Ferelden meal" said Alistair running his wooden spoon through the unidentifiable greyish/green gloop on his dish. They had stopped to spend the night in a tavern a few miles past Dragon's Peak.

"I've eaten worse than this before…" Said Rous.

"Oh, so have I, unfortunately it tended to be my own cooking…"

"At least the beer's good."

"The beer is good."

"I thought you were more into wine."

"Wine, beer, it's all good in its own way."

"You need a re-fill, so do I." Without asking him, she picked up their tankards, sauntered over to the bar, and put her elbows on it. She was somewhat aware that Alistair's eyes were following her across the plank floor.

"Hey pretty…" Said a guy standing next to her. "Haven't seen you around here before 'cause I'd remember if I had. I likes me a hot touch of ginger…"

He wasn't unattractive; he had medium-length wavy brown hair, a moustache and a straggly van ******. He reminded her a bit of Bann Teagan, with whom she'd had a few pleasant conversations over the last year at the odd meeting or party. The Bann of Rainesfere was always so extremely solicitous and careful in her presence that she wondered exactly how much he knew of what had happened to her. Teagan simply wasn't her type, but she could well understand the frisson he caused in other ladies.

As for this young man, he was at least some fifteen years younger than Teagan and probably at least five years younger than she and far, far dimmer. He was grinning at her inanely. Rous was pretty certain the dapper Bann would have better-polished pick-up lines… She smiled at the guy briefly and then pointedly ignored him.

"…and you're looking really sizzling in leather an' all."

"Sorry," she said, "But I'm with someone…"

"Ach," He said glancing over to the corner where Alistair sat, "But I could give you such a good time…"

"Two more, please." She said to the Innkeeper who at last seemed willing to serve her, thrusting the empty tankards towards him. "Think he can't?" She said to the pest from the corner of her mouth. "Think again."

"Problem?" asked Alistair slightly arching his eyebrows when she came back with the ale.

"Not anything I couldn't handle…" Said Rous casting her eyes back at the guy, who when he saw she was looking at him, smiled and raised his tankard to her. "Says he fancies redheads. I told him I was with someone…"

"I really like it when people don't recognise me…" Commented Alistair, "Real things happen…"

"If by that you mean inopportune ****s in taverns," Said Rous, "Then yes, they're real enough… Unfortunately."

Even though it was quite early, they decided to go to bed shortly after drinking their beers. Being on the road, even on horseback was pretty tiring. They crossed the main barroom floor to get to the stairs leading to their bedroom.

As they walked past him, the pest clicked his tongue audibly. How much of an idiot could the guy be? Thought Rous. Couldn't he see Alistair's bulk?

"I do like a redhead." He said.

Without being able to help herself, Rous stopped and glared at him. She felt Alistair come to a halt behind her. Suddenly a large hand landed gently on her shoulder.

She looked back and up at Alistair. He was smiling genially at the pain in the neck. "So do I." He said. "But you are going to have to find your own woman, friend. This one's mine and she's taken." Rous was wholly unprepared for the surge of warmth that lanced through her in response to these words.

The pest sighed and shook his head. "C'mon." Said Alistair quietly. When they got up to their room he said, "Gosh, I loved that…"

"You've never fought over a woman before…" said Rous.

"Nope." Said Alistair. "Not even argued. Didn't know what I was missing."

Rous laughed.

"Now what happens?" Asked Alistair opening his arms. "Do I stake my claim to this good-looking, flame-haired beauty by taking her in my arms and making her mine for all the world to hear…? It's bloody tempting…" He glanced at the bed and then back at Rous. "Somehow I don't think that would withstand my passion and ardour…"

Rous turned, he had a point, the double bed did look rather rickety. She sat on it and it creaked ominously.

"I'll take the floor." Said Alistair, suddenly all continent resolve.

"Alistair…" Said Rous, "At the very least kiss me dammit!" she said as she passed him one of the pillows.

He rolled his eyes at her, "Do I really have to?" He replied teasingly.

However, a little later, while they were both in their smallclothes he got on to his knees in front of her as she sat on the edge of the bed and suggested, "Why don't you kiss me?"

Rous wrapped her arms around his neck and put her mouth to his and kissed him until his eyes had turned a confused, smouldering amber. Then she nipped his earlobe quickly and in her very best purry voice described to him some of the things she was going to do to him as soon as he let her.

Finally, when he begged her to let him go because if she didn't he was going to burst and no longer be responsible for his actions, she released him from her arms and stroking the back of his head one last time, kissed him on the forehead and bade him good night.

[Maria13]

Chapter 53

Dragon 9:35 Nublis/Drakonis The West Road [Present]

They set off again very shortly after dawn the next day. "I should tell you the rest," Said Rous, "since I started."

"Only if you're sure. I was asking myself whether retelling such things actually did more harm than good." Alistair glanced at the sky; he hoped it wasn't going to rain.

"Fergus knows all this, of course. Oswyn some. Actually, it was good to talk to Oswyn; there is an understanding between us…"

"After Ostagar, I walked east for a further week and found myself at Lothering.

"I remember looking down from the Imperial Highway at the village and seeing it deserted. I walked into it and then noticed that an armoured man was slumped in the lookout chair several yards above my head. From what I could see he seemed to be wearing Templar armour but I thought he must he dead, he was not moving. I could see no-one else. I went straight past the Chantry and crossed a bridge. I had been angry with the Maker for several days at that point and in any event was wholly lacking in the serene state of mind to undertake meaningful prayer.

"I headed instead straight to the tavern. I needed a drink. As I pushed the door open it did not occur to me that, it was strange that although Lothering was deserted all the buildings appeared to be intact. I entered the tavern. There was a large blond man sitting nursing tankard at one of the tables. I went past him and he did not as much as blink. There was another large man behind the bar with dark hair pale blue eyes an oval face and what appeared to be a several day's beard growth so I walked up to him.

"The barkeep, for such I thought he was, took a good look at me with some amazement. Then he said quite politely, 'If you are not some kind of demon come to take my soul, is there anything this humble Templar can do to help you?'

'I am no demon.' I said surprised.

'But if you were…' He reasoned, 'Wouldn't you say just that?' He paused and looked me over again. 'Ruiseart, help me out here, do you think she's a demon?' I could smell the alcohol on his breath. He seemed pretty far-gone.

"The blond one was very slow to turn his eyes to me.

'Is she even real?' He asked eventually.

"The Templar behind the bar reached out his hand and stroked my jaw with his thumb. 'She appears to be… A bit grubby, though.' He added as an afterthought. I prised his hand away. He did not seem annoyed.

"The blond one shrugged as if he had reached the limit of his wits, 'I dunno, Maron, demonology was never my strongest subject… Ask the Revered Mother…'

'Ruiseart,' Said Maron, 'We sent the Revered Mother and most of the lay brethren away the day before yesterday. Don't you remember?'

"Ruiseart gazed fixedly at his tankard and grunted. 'I thought it was strange that that awful woman wasn't nagging me for just having a drink…' He burped and his whole body sagged.

"Ser Maron shrugged his shoulders.

'Can you—' I asked.

'How did you get past Berold?' He interrupted me.

'Berold?'

'Yes he was supposed to be on lookout…'

'I thought he was dead,' I said.

"Ser Maron cursed loudly. This seemed to rouse Ruiseart who had nodded off.

'Ber…? Oh, I may have given him a little something…' Ruiseart said. 'Who cares anyway?'

'I bloody do!' Ser Maron erupted, 'I'd like some prior notification of when I'm about to die, thank you very much, even if it's just to arm myself and commend my soul to the Maker!'

"But Ruiseart appeared to have fallen asleep again or was pretending he had.

'Now—' I said to Ser Maron.

"Suddenly Ser Maron was holding a dagger to my throat, it was almost as sharp as his piercing blue eyes. 'Recite something from the Chant of Light…' He commanded.

'Although I am an Andrastian I'd never paid much attention to the formalities of my religion. It was an extremely bad moment for my mind to go blank, but go blank it did. I recall thinking how disappointed our chaplain Mother Mololl would be with me… I could see the frown on her pretty face in my mind's eye.

"To survive all I had survived and then to die because some intoxicated, dull-witted Templar had got it into his head that I was a demon, all because I couldn't recall some idiot verses…

"It was not the right thing to do but I laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all.

"Ser Maron said, 'Demon, you die here…'

'By Andraste's mercy, if I'm a demon how are you going to kill me with just a dagger?' I was practically screaming. And then the words came tumbling out. 'The one who repents, who has faith/ Unshaken by the darkness of the world/ She shall know true peace.'

"Ser Maron inhaled, his nostrils dilating and he removed the knife from my throat.

'Please…' I all but collapsed face down on the bar, 'Give me a drink…'

"Without saying a word, he turned round, uncorked a bottle, poured a generous shot into a clay cup and banged it down on the bar in front of my nose.

                                                                                                ~...~

'I apologise.' He said later. 'I should have realised you were no demon when I noticed your face was dirty…'

"By then he had explained that the Templars had carried out an enforced evacuation of the village a few days ago in which they were much aided by the dire news that reached them from Ostagar. I told him I had come from there and described a little of what I had seen.

'So it's true we lost?' Ser Maron asked me for the umpteenth time.

'We lost.' I said yet again.

"Although I was not unaccustomed to alcohol only rarely had I gotten drunk before. I was sitting opposite him at one of the wooden tables, our cups and several bottles between us.

"Ser Ruiseart, who seemed virtually comatose had slipped from his chair to the floor and was snoring loudly a few yards away.

'Why are you staying?' I asked.

'We're going to try to hold them back…' Ser Maron shrugged, 'or at least slow them down…'

'But that is futile,' I said. 'You are all going to die.'

'That may well be,' said Ser Maron, 'but it is our duty.'

'Aren't you afraid?' I asked.

'I would be a fool if I wasn't.' He replied. 'What are you doing here?' he then asked.

'I was looking for my brother… I was going to...' I swallowed my drink quickly. Ser Maron poured us both another one.

'You were saying?' He asked.

'It doesn't matter now. Nothing matters now, I think.' I said.

'All I really have is the Chantry. I was either a foundling or the child of a mage. I have never particularly cared to find out which. The only brothers I have ever had are here now with me. Ruiseart and the others.' He said looking towards his sleeping comrade. 'This is what I must do. This is what I was trained to do. To protect the Chantry and the Maker's children above all else.'

"He took another drink.

'Is there nothing you will miss? Nothing you regret?' I asked him.

'I like a good drink as much as the next man. Lyrium was always helpful, it made me feel powerful and strong, it helped me sleep too, but our lyrium supply ran out days ago, and then there were women….'

"I hesitated. 'Women?' I asked eventually.

'Yes, from time to time.' He was staring at me intently now I noticed.

"For a moment, I did not know what to say. I considered what I have been through this last month. I then thought about what lay ahead of me. My parents, my brother, my friends, even my casual lover, Dairren, and Mabari hound, all gone. I sighed.

'Is there anything I can do for you?' I asked him.

"He looked away. Quite purposely, I put my hand over his as it lay on the table. He flushed.

'You don't need to feel sorry for me he said.'

'I don't,' I said, 'I just feel lonely. I have lost everything I valued. Everything that helped me make sense of life.' As I said this, I realised that he was first living being I had touched in over a month.

"We were both quite drunk by this stage, quite maudlin.

"He extended his hand and ran his finger over my jaw again. 'Would you…'

'Yes.' I replied.

'You're quick' he said, 'but you didn't know what I was going to ask.' His thumb moved to my lips.

'Yes I did.'

"He tilted his head to one side. Then he looked over at where Ruiseart lay and seemed to make up his mind. 'Let's go upstairs' he said. Picking up the bottle and our cups.

"I must have looked surprised. 'There are rooms up there,' he said.

"I followed him.

"He collected a bunch of keys from behind the bar. Then we ascended the staircase. He quickly chose a room and opened the door. We went in.

"He proceeded to light some of the lamps. 'You might want to wash,' he said, 'I should have thought of that before, I will get you some water.' He returned soon afterwards with a basin full of water and several washcloths and gestured towards another door.

I nodded and after glancing quickly at the bed went in to the other room carrying the basin. I removed my leathers picked up the washcloth and scrubbed myself over very quickly taking especial care to remove all dirt from my face.

"When I returned to the bedroom Ser Maron was pacing nervously up and down having left the bottle and the cups on a side table.

"We were very civilised at first, we put our arms around each other, kissed, but then desperation or urgency took over and before long we were tussling like overheated adolescents on the bed.

"We paused to catch our breath. Then he kissed me again. We were more careful of each other this time.

"Halfway through he stopped and looked at me, there was a puzzled expression on his face. 'You are better at this than I.' He said sounding surprised. I laughed. 'Who are you?' He asked.

'I am Lady Rosaura Cousland of Highever.' I said grandiloquently.

'As if…' Said Ser Maron.

'I am whoever you want me to be.' I said toying with an amulet on a leather thong that lay around his neck. He still looked concerned. I tried again. 'I am a fugitive, a refugee, like everybody else.' He seemed happier with that.

"It was clear that he wanted to experiment, try out new things, we entertained ourselves for several hours… I… Alistair… I am sorry, I did not think…"

"So you made love to a Templar in Lothering." He summarized looking straight ahead; his hands were entwined tightly in Dusk's bridle Rous noticed.

"I did."

"And you are an Andrastian…"

"I am."

"I think I would prefer to dwell on the second thing rather than on the first, even though it might be less important to your story overall."

Rous put her hand on his, "Remember what I taught you…"

"Oh yes." He said loosening the reins immediately and leaning forward to pat Dusk on the neck.

"Contrary to popular belief, most Templars are not virgins." Alistair remarked, "Chastity, not celibacy, is the requirement but at least half do not even abide by that… As you know." Rous thought she detected something slightly censorious of his former comrades in his tone or was it disenchantment?

"But you were, weren't you? A virgin, I mean, when you left the Chantry." Rous guessed.

He blushed slightly. "I was… until Neriya."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty-two."

"A late starter, why?"

He hesitated, and then mumbled something she didn't quite catch. "What?"

"I think I was a little afraid of women…"

"You? Afraid?"

"Well, when I hit my teens, I realised I… Well that I liked women, but I didn't really know any… Any at all… There was that woman, Isolde, of course, Eamon's wife my 'belle mére'. She called me within my hearing 'le petit bâtard' and 'le petit idiot', because she thought I was so stupid I couldn't even understand… But a child recognises the tone and will eventually pick up the words. I remember when Eamon introduced her to me when I was ten or eleven or so, he told me she would be the mother I never had; she was standing behind him scowling… and I recall thinking 'I don't think so.'

"There was cook and the servants, but they were always too busy to take an interest in me… Later there were the Revered Mothers but the Chantry ensured that most of them in contact with us were bitter by nature… The guys, my fellow Templars in training, talked incessantly about women, naturally, and that somehow made them even scarier. I listened eagerly, of course, but I never had anything to contribute and sometimes I would be teased for that, but it was nothing that I couldn't handle either with humour or a quick bout of fisticuffs behind the privies."

He flashed a smile at Rous, "Intercourse... sounded… absolutely terrifying… quite apart from the threat of lightning…"

"Lightning?" Rous asked.

"Lightning. In their wisdom, the Revered Mothers assured us that we would be struck dead by lightning if we indulged our carnal impulses. Needless to say, it wasn't true."

Rous shook her head, "I really can't imagine what that must be like… Growing up in isolation from the opposite sex. And having those foolish ideas foisted upon you… Fergus, Ser Gilmore –I don't think I've mentioned him— they were my main playmates… They'd been around my whole life. I knew what little boys were made from a very young age… How they thought too…"

"Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails…" Recited Alistair and laughed.

"Pretty much. That is as good a summing up as any." She pulled out a water canteen from her saddlebag, took a quick drink and passed it to Alistair. "Should I continue?" she asked as she was tucking it away.

He snorted. "Of course you should. I need to grow up. This was all long before we met… So whatever I may feel is to a certain extent, irrelevant."

Rous nodded.

"Ser Maron seemed very appreciative. I've never really understood why men, especially good men, feel so much gratitude after making love; most of the time their partner is as willing as they and has got out of it as much as they have, but in any event he was and he asked me if there was anything, he could do for me.

"I had been thinking things over for a while by then… We had given ourselves time to relax; perhaps we had even fallen asleep. I can't quite recall. But in any event, I replied that there was.

"I told him I wanted to stay and fight with the Templars.

"As I expected, he was disturbed by this, his jaw clenched somewhat. I could see immediately that it had given him pause, but I was very grateful that he did not simply reject my request out of hand.

'But you yourself recognised that resisting the hoard means death…'

'Yes.' I replied, 'but I am tired of striving to find something for which to live. Believe me or not in these last few weeks, I have lost my entire family… My family was my life. I have nothing.'

'You are too beautiful for such a death.' He muttered.

'As if beauty had anything to do with it!' I exclaimed, 'Everything passes, even beauty, especially beauty…'

'Well, yes,' he said, 'but still…'

'Is it because you think I can't fight? I can you know… I'll show you…' I was stark naked but still jumped off the bed heading for my sword.

'Please.' He said, 'I don't doubt you—'

'Rous.'

'Rous. Just give me a moment.' He turned over and looked at the ceiling covering his eyes with a hand. 'Rous. You have been as kind to me as anyone in my life ever has…'

'—' I opened my mouth to retort.

'For the Maker's sake let me finish, woman! I am just a humble Templar and slower than you… But I have another favour to ask of you, a task, if you will…'

"He got up and started to pull on his clothing. He gestured for me to do the same and out of respect for him, I did.

"We left the room on our way down the staircase to the tavern main ground floor we encountered two figures caught tight in a passionate embrace. The taller larger one was obviously a Templar, the second figure was wearing an orange and gold novice's robe, the light from the tavern was dim on the stairway but as I went past them I noticed that they were both male.

"Ser Maron who was following me stopped for a moment I was worried that some argument or even a fight was about to break out but there was only a quiet whispered exchange and a slight metallic sound which later I realised may have been the bunch of keys changing hands.

"When he followed me down Ser Maron was shaking his head, 'Seoras was always somewhat different,' He said, 'But a fearsome warrior still.' As we exited the tavern, I noticed that it was empty and Ser Ruiseart was no longer there.

"We crossed the bridge and headed for the Chantry.

"Ser Maron heaved open the heavy oaken door. It was dimly lit inside. Incense was burning. On one of the last pews, I noticed Ser Ruiseart. He was on his knees and his head was bent in prayer.

"A large Templar, partially dressed in armour, with skin darkened by the elements and long black plaited hair was reading from the Chant of Light. Whereas his voice did not have the singsong cadence usually developed by Revered Mothers, it was full of restrained power and dignity. There was no doubt in my mind that he believed every single word he was reading. It was strange and haunting to hear those lingering versus intoned by such a masculine voice.

"Ser Maron turned to me and in a hushed voice said, 'Our Captain Ser Bryant.'

"We went quietly to the back of the chapel. From here, it was apparent to me that most of the Templars were now following the service. There were many wide- shouldered bodies kneeling devoutly in the pews.

"It may have been my imagination but at one point I was sure Ser Bryant raised his dark eyes from the text of the Chant and glanced at me. I suddenly felt self-conscious and out of place, it was as though my thoughts had become legible. I was convinced Ser Bryant was aware of what had been happened between Ser Maron and me. Nevertheless, he smiled at me. A smile full of serenity and welcome.

"Ser Maron approached a much smaller figure that hitherto I had not noticed. He bent over it and quiet words were obviously exchanged. As they came up to me, I saw the person following him was a small blonde woman dressed in the robes of a lay sister.

"Turning to her Ser Maron said, 'Charbelle, this is Rous. Rous will be taking you to Denerim on Balin's cart.'

"The girl for she was little more than that, turned her blue eyes to me. 'Surely, Charbelle you will not now refuse to go to Denerim with another woman. Rous is strong and an able fighter, she can defend you should anything happen.'

"I admit I was furious at being placed in this position, my face went rigid and my hands were both clenched into fists. Ser Maron glanced quickly down and had undoubtedly seen them. He put his own hand on my shoulder, 'Rous let's go outside.'

"Under the stars he turned to me and said, 'Rous she's my sister I do not know or care whether we share the same blood but we were taken to Redcliffe Chantry on the same day and have grown up together. She's just a small girl, Rous, innocent as sunlight, yet she refuses to leave. Think what the Darkspawn will do to her…'

"I did. I thought about the corpses I had seen, and those were fighters I reminded myself, and felt my anger begin to ebb away.

"Ser Maron did not hesitate to press home his advantage, 'I know you have lost your brother whom you obviously loved very much, but imagine if he could have been saved through the goodwill of a stranger… As I have told you before, you have already done more for me than most other people, but please Rous, please escort my sister to Denerim Chantry. I can give you some money but apart from that if you do this for me, I will bless you and your brother my final breath. By Andraste's virtue you have my word on that.'

"I bowed my head. What could I do but accede to his request? 'You have me,' I replied, 'I agree, but give all your money to Charbelle, no doubt I shall make my own way. And spend your last breath on something worthier.'

"Suddenly Ser Maron wrapped his arms around me and buried his face on my shoulder, for a brief moment I thought this was a fresh attempt to renew our intimacy and then I realised he was crying.

Modifié par Maria13, 18 février 2011 - 02:59 .

[Esbatty]

Wow, thats was - now I feel horrible about what happened to Lothering. My reaction was "Oh I can't go back, ah well." Like it was no big loss because it was full of spiders and bears and wolves. More trouble than it seemed, but I forget that some things are more important than "the now".



Good, good chapter.



And great reaction there with Alistair. I totally know how that feels where you're thinking "Really? And there is more to this? She really did all these things... calm down, buddy. That was in the past." But then again Alistair has no only a wife but a child with his lover and a little black book the size of the Chant of Light, lol.