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[QueenPurpleScrap]

Here are the links to the other sites where I am posting this story in case you find it easier to read there.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8971024/1/
http://archiveofouro...rg/works/669752
SUMMARY:
Alenahaella moritanae: Griffonsong for short. Full meaning in an ancient tongue = 'Those who ride the wind, whose voices spell doom to the blighted wretches.' Alistair and newest recruit, Blake Cousland, barely survive Ostagar. On the way to Lothering they meet an unusual and mysterious young woman. Who is she and what does she know about the Grey Wardens? This story will contain mature content.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 1: Where Have the Griffons Gone?

Blake and Alistair were trudging along on the way to Lothering. The cold and rainy weather fit their mood. Blake’s mabari, General Lee, was circling Morrigan several yards in the rear. She was not one for company, was Morrigan. Blake and Alistair were secretly amused at General’s attempts to befriend her. Mabari or Morrigan, which was more stubborn?

“Do you ever wonder what happened to the griffons? Did they just die out or did something happen to them?” Alistair broke the silence.

“That’s a strange question to ask out of the blue!” exclaimed Blake.

“Well, I don’t want to talk about Duncan, and you don’t want to talk about Highever. I understand that, I really do. I just thought it would be nice to talk about something completely different, no doom and gloom involved - lighten the mood.”

“You’re right, Alistair, we have been rather morose. Who knows, this conversation could even give us a better understanding of the Grey Wardens,” Blake raised an eyebrow and smiled, slightly.

“Oh, ha ha, you’re so funny. Seriously, though, I heard that they started dwindling after the last Blight and finally disappeared about 200 years ago. But was it through some sort of illness, a disaster, or even an attack? Nobody I know of has an explanation. How can a creature so important disappear and nobody have any idea why? Did your studies provide you with a clue?”

Blake considered for a moment. “We didn’t study the Grey Wardens in a lot of depth, Alistair. It is odd, I agree. Normally if something disappears, especially something important like the griffons, there would be some clues. It wasn’t that long ago, historically speaking. I remember reading of plagues wiping out a town, earthquakes and fires that could do the same, but I’ve never heard of one lasting 200 years. What did the other Wardens say? Did they have any theories?”

“Remember, I’ve only been a warden for six months. Nobody had much time to talk about anything except the Blight and strategy, even if they were so inclined. The ones I knew weren’t what I would call deep thinkers. Except Duncan and he definitely had other things on his mind.” Alistair grew quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he literally shook himself back to the moment. “I think they were targeted.”

“Targeted! Why do you think they were targeted?” Blake was sincerely curious now.

“Yes, Alistair, since you have finally decided to use your mind on something so totally irrelevant, please don’t keep us in suspense. I, for one, am ready to be dazzled by your brilliance,” Morrigan snidely remarked.

Alistair looked down at General Lee in reproach. “Just couldn’t keep her back could you?” he thought. He could have sworn General Lee looked contrite. Looking at Morrigan he deadpanned, “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you decided to join in the conversation. Do you have any theories of your own or are you only limited to making fun of others?”

“Limited!? Why you moronic – “

Blake intervened. “Stop it right now, you two. We’re going to be traveling together for some time and I am not going to play nursemaid because you act like five-year olds. Either enter a conversation with intelligence, or stay out of it Morrigan. And both of you stop baiting the other, you’re giving me a headache,” he said as he, without realizing it, rubbed his temples.

“Fine, you’re right. Morrigan, your mother has lived a long time. Did she ever tell you anything which might shed light on the issue?” She glared back at him, but finally shook her head.

Morrigan considered for a moment. “Maybe there was a major rockslide which destroyed access to the aeries. Not wanting to advertise such a disaster, the Wardens said nothing. And made sure that others who knew couldn’t talk. As long as they didn’t allow outsiders in, and in later years acting as if they were creatures out of legend, that is indeed what could happen. The false myth became myth in fact.” Morrigan shook her head, “and even that isn’t very satisfactory. This is pointless. We should be concentrating on where we are now and what we are going to do next.” Morrigan huffed and dropped back, effectively ending the conversation.

They continued onwards to Lothering in silence. Alistair’s gambit had partially worked, they could at least seize on the puzzle of the griffons to keep their thoughts away from their personal losses. Alistair broke the silence with a warning, “Darkspawn ahead.” They readied their weapons and cautiously moved around a curve in the road. What they saw halted them in their tracks. It wasn’t the darkspawn or their numbers; it was the sight of a small woman facing them down without armor, without boots, and without fear. She let out what Alistair described later as a directed screech which left the darkspawn reeling and in pain. Some even began bleeding from the ears. Then, incredibly quickly, she started slicing through them with her daggers, flying from one to the next, her actions galvanizing the Wardens into action.

When the skirmish was over, a very short time later, Alistair ran to the stranger and knelt down in front of her, “Are you hurt anywhere?” His eyes ran over her from top to bottom and front to back, looking for injuries. With the fighting over, he also couldn’t help noticing that she had a lot of curves and muscles tightly packed in a small but sturdy and amazingly sexy frame. He ignored the visions of filling his hands with those curves and the twitching in his groin while he waited for an answer. He watched her face as she in turn looked back at him, wariness and mystery in her unusual eyes. In fact, everything about her was unusual. Her hair fell, no that was too tame a word, climbed wildly down her back to her waist in a mass of unkempt curls. It held all the colors of leaves before falling to winter and was streaked with bands of pure white. She was slightly taller than a dwarf and shorter than many elves but she was definitely human. Her face was somewhat broad with prominent cheekbones. A slightly hawk-like nose sat above a wide mouth with full, sensuous lips. Her eyes were slightly larger and more widely spaced than usual. Half-closed with long lashes that hid their color. He couldn’t tell if they were green, brown, or hazel. He was fascinated by the faint sprinkling of freckles on her dusky gold skin. Beautiful was not an accurate word to describe that face. It was compelling, exotic, harsh even, and had a slumbering sexuality he found intoxicating.

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and husky, teasing his nerve endings. “No, Warden, I have no injuries,” she spoke as she looked back at the man in front of her. Her eyes went from the handsome blond warrior to the equally handsome dark man with the sharper features before taking in the curious mabari and the irritated witch. She searched the road behind them, as if trying to sense something. A look of distress crossed her features, making Blake and Alistair want to comfort her. “You are the only remaining Wardens?”

“How do you know that? Who are you?” Blake demanded as he grabbed her arm and held on to her for several minutes waiting for an answer, only to let go at her hiss of pain. They all stared in surprise at the burn on the woman’s skin where his leather glove had touched it. Alistair quickly grabbed a healing poultice and spread it over the burn, earning a smile of thanks which caused him to blush. He hadn’t blushed in years, not since he was first taken to the Chantry. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Blake said once her arm was treated.

“You had no way of knowing that I am unable to bear leather, so there’s nothing to forgive,” the woman replied. “I am Jannasilane and I can, I guess you could say I can sense Grey Wardens. I can’t describe it better than that. I was on my way to Ostagar to meet my father and join the fight. I met many fleeing the battlefields and finally the darkspawn we just defeated. I suppose I will join with you now.”

Her phrasing was killing Alistair. Clearing his throat, he attempted to distract himself, “I am Alistair and this is Blake, our leader. General Lee is Blake’s mabari and our fellow traveler is Morrigan. Who is your father? Perhaps we know him.”

Blake was amused at Alistair’s predicament. He had already noted that the attractive blond was very attracted to their new acquaintance, he was not immune himself. He wondered if he would be as affected as his fellow Grey Warden if he didn’t prefer Alistair to Jannasilane. Morrigan was a non-starter. His amusement disappeared when Jannasilane answered.

“Duncan, he too was a Grey Warden.” The grief and pain that shouted at her out of Alistair’s hazel eyes hurt her. She put her hand to his face, “I am sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I had known him, he must have been a good man for you to care so much.”

Alistair stood and walked away. He kept his back to them for a few minutes as he struggled to control himself. “Yes, he was.” He strode back and stood next to her, looking into her upturned face, “I’m sorry you didn’t have a chance to know him.” Blake was standing on her other side, looking at him. “Let’s move on, shall we? We should probably reach Lothering before dark if we start now.” Jannasilane darted to the side of the road and retrieved a pack she had hidden. They moved on, with the Wardens flanking the newest member of their group. Between the two large men, Jannasilane keenly felt her lack of inches. Morrigan and General Lee trailed behind.

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 02 febbraio 2013 - 10:29 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 2: Lothering at Last


They made better time than Alistair expected, their newest companion had no trouble keeping up with the two men. He kept looking down to see how she was faring and she never seemed to falter. The fact that he had a good view of her breasts wasn’t a factor at all, of course. Her slightly too-small dress had a number of interestingly placed tears, the result of battling in cloth instead of any sort of armor. If the neckline tore any further he’d be able to see all the way down to her toes. As it was he had fantasies of sliding his hand down between the two generous mounds and bringing them out to play. He certainly didn’t have the same reaction to Morrigan, and her breasts had even less covering. He could objectively admit that Morrigan was beautiful, and while not as generous as Jannasilane her breasts were rather magnificent. Too bad her beauty was marred because Morrigan was cold and a complete ****. Jannasilane hadn’t said much, but she seemed to give off heat, promising a warmth at night that was very enticing.
 
Alistair fell back, he needed to think. Why did Jannasilane have such a strong effect on him? There were plenty of women he’d found attractive and fantasized about. Even back at Ostagar there were a couple of women, one a soldier by the name of Ser Cauthrien and the other a dark-haired elf, what was her name? He thought if there had been time and Loghain not a traitor he and Cauthrien might have gotten to know each other better. She at least appreciated his sense of humor, many didn’t. But she was almost fanatically loyal and, well, she wasn’t Jannasilane. Maker help him, but watching her from the rear wasn’t helping him much. Her strong haunches were full and well-rounded. A man could happily get lost in those curves. And the way they moved, they were just begging to be grabbed.
 
“She’s a sexy little package, isn’t she?” Blake interrupted Alistair’s musings. “I don’t think she’s even aware of it, she seems rather young.”
 
“Sexy little package? Isn’t that a bit, um, rude?” not that he disagreed, of course.
 
“Please, you’ve been watching her like she was the only drink of water for a hundred miles and you were dying of thirst. Anyway, she can’t hear us; it’s just you and me.” Blake thought for a moment, “I’ve known a lot of women, but none of them had the same punch she does. If it weren’t for the fact that her very presence seems to irritate Morrigan I’d be tempted to leave her behind, she’s a distraction we can ill afford.”
 
“No!” Alistair was forceful, and then tried to redeem himself, “she’s a terrific fighter. I’m not sure what she did to those darkspawn, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
 
Blake smirked at the blond man, “I knew you liked her.”
 
Alistair narrowed his eyes at Blake; he hated it when the other man got all superior on him. “You don’t? I saw you watching her too. You seem pretty interested for somebody thinking of leaving her behind.”
 
Blake sighed, “Fine, I admit it. I would enjoy bedding her, don’t get me wrong. But she’s not really my type.”
 
“Not your type? You mean Morrigan?” just the thought of getting that close with the witch made Alistair ill.
 
“No, you’re a bit large but still a lot closer than either of the women.” Alistair looked at him with wide yet hooded eyes. Blake sighed, “You’re safe Alistair. I knew right away you didn’t play my way. I’m a gentleman and would never pay somebody, especially a friend, uncomfortable and unwanted attention. I’m only telling you so you know you have a clear field with Jannasilane as far as I’m concerned, and because at some point while we’re traveling you’re bound to notice something. If this makes you uncomfortable, let me know right now.”
 
Alistair was silent for a long time. “No,” he said slowly. “It’s alright; I know some men prefer the, um, companionship of other men. You’re right, I don’t really understand it, but you obviously respect other people’s boundaries so, no, I’m fine with it.” He couldn’t help muttering, “Makes more sense than Morrigan, anyway.”
 
Blake snickered and then let out a sigh of relief; he hadn’t realized how much he valued Alistair’s friendship and respect. He knew he tended to be sarcastic and brooding; the other man’s generally sunny nature and goofy humor centered him and simply made him feel better. “So,” he nudged the former templar, “go find out what sort of armor she can wear before that dress falls apart and we get too distracted. Just because I usually prefer men doesn’t mean I can’t or don’t enjoy women. On second thought, don’t go.”
 
Alistair punched him on the arm and went to talk to Jannasilane. “So, Jannasilane, what kinds of armor can you wear? Your dress, umm, well, it probably won’t last much longer.”
 
Jannasilane looked sideways up at the big blond. Alistair was looking in the distance and failing in his attempt not to blush. “You can call me Janna, or Lane if you prefer, Alistair.” Maker, he was aroused just by the way she said his name, ‘All-lee-stairrr’.
 
“The only leather I can wear is dragon. I can wear metal but I feel as if I can’t move like I need to, and I feel itchy. So, cloth. I’d like to experiment with layers and leather inserts, but I need coin. We were-” she stopped herself abruptly and continued differently, “Unfortunately my other clothes were lost. If I had needle and thread I could make some repairs.”
 
“We? Who is ‘we?’ I hope she’s not married. I’m not lusting after a married woman, am I?” He decided to ask, “Do you have any family somewhere?”
 
She tried to be stoic when she answered, “Not anymore. There’s just me.” She didn’t realize that instead she sounded lonely and sad.
 
“Hey,” Alistair put his hand on her shoulder, “You’re not alone Janna, you’re with us now.”
 
Jannasilane looked up into his warm hazel eyes, the corners crinkling with his smile and felt her stomach flip flop. “Maybe this won’t be so bad,” she thought wistfully. She’d been drawn to Alistair from the start; there was a kindness and openness to his strong good looks that appealed to her more than the brooding quality of Blake. She had to admit that Blake epitomized the tall, dark and handsome man of stories. If Alistair wasn’t the Warden for her, then she could do worse than Blake. She was fortunate that her options were both young, good-looking and at least willing to be kind. Oh how she wished her mother was here to advise her. Maybe she and Alistair could at least form a friendship before . . . it. She smiled up at the big man, a smile that was surprisingly sweet and shy with her exotic features and Alistair felt a warmth inside that had nothing to do with lust.
 
They continued on side by side, Blake joining them after a while. They were near Lothering when they saw a group of people waiting on the highway leading to Lothering. Bandits.
 
“Well, look what we have here, more travelers. I bet this man with the dark hair is their leader.” The bandit leader looked at Jannasilane, his eyes full of lust, “and they travel with this desirable little thing, lucky men.” She almost imperceptibly edged closer to Alistair, wary and on edge, while Alistair tensed. The bandit continued, “The toll is ten silvers for the upkeep of the Imperial Highway, but I’m feeling in a good mood. If you don’t have the coin you can leave your little friend with us instead, a couple of nights sharing her ‘company’ should be fair.”
 
Alistair said, “No,” just as Blake replied that they weren’t paying. Foolishly the thugs attacked. The skirmish didn’t last long. After getting all the information possible out of them, the bandits lay dead around them. They started scavenging the area, coming across a dead knight who had obviously run afoul of the erstwhile toll collectors. They gathered some personal items to take to the Chantry in case somebody was searching for him. Alistair kept looking at Jannasilane to see how she was faring and Blake in turn eyed Alistair. General Lee didn’t watch anybody while he nosed for food and Morrigan glared at everybody in turn, more spite in her eyes when they landed on the young girl.
 
“If you didn’t look like a **** displaying your wares people would be less likely to get the wrong impression,” Morrigan finally spat out, “unless, of course, it isn’t the wrong impression.” Alistair and Blake were furious at her insult; their anger compounded by the sheer hypocrisy of her statement, considering her own lack of apparel. General Lee looked reproachfully at the witch.
 
Jannasilane didn’t bother looking at Morrigan. She continued her search as she almost absent-mindedly replied, “I’ll keep that in mind, Nipples.” Morrigan was speechless. The men bit their lips and looked in the distance in order not to burst out laughing and further infuriating the temperamental witch. Even the dog endeavored to hide his reaction. Finally Morrigan snorted, whether in grudging amusement or anticipated retaliation none could tell.
 
Once they had all they could find, they entered Lothering with Jannasilane and Morrigan as far away from each other as possible. It wasn’t long before Morrigan was making snide comments again, usually about Alistair. She also wasn’t impressed with their efforts to help the villagers with some of their problems. Alistair endeavored not to respond in kind, but it wasn’t easy. They even earned some coin doing odd jobs they found on the Chanter’s board.
 
Jannasilane was fascinated by the Chanter and the board. She kept going back to see if there were new tasks or to talk to the Chanter. She’d ask a question just so she could try to figure out the meaning of Chanter’s response. The little boy next to him as well as the Wardens was amused. Finally Blake had to ask, “Have you never seen a Chanter’s board before?”
 
“No. The village near my home was very small, Lothering is huge in comparison. But we’re not here for my education, or your amusement,” she admitted.
 “Those are just bonuses,” Blake teased. “Let’s go.”

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 05 febbraio 2013 - 02:07 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 3: They Expand


Loghain’s men lay dead on the floor of the tavern. Their actions confirmed what they had already heard: Loghain named them traitors and blamed them for the death of Cailan and the losses at Ostagar. The actions of a red-headed Chantry sister were unexpected. Leliana, for that was her name, announced she was joining them because she had a vision. It was a vision from the Maker telling her to help the Wardens. Morrigan didn’t trust her. In this she and Jannasilane were in agreement, which would have surprised the witch if she knew. Jannasilane’s family’s experience with the Chantry made her suspicious and she sensed this woman was no ordinary Chantry sister. Alistair quipped that they had enough crazy, causing Jannasilane to look up at him, wondering if he meant her but he was clearly referring to Morrigan. Blake overruled him, saying they needed all the help they could get. None of them noticed a weasely little man eyeing them from the loft.
 
Later they added a murderous Qunari to their group. Sten was a large, stoic man; a warrior of the Beresaad who would fight with the Grey Wardens against the Blight and hope to find his redemption. Even though he murdered a family of innocents, Jannasilane felt more comfortable with him than either of the other women, which wasn’t saying much. As far as Sten was concerned, he preferred travelling with the smallest member of their group. She didn’t try to talk to him. He found that a refreshing change. He also liked walking with the dog. The dog he understood. These humans, he didn’t understand them at all.
 
With the village full they decided to camp outside Lothering and save coin. Just on the outskirts of the village they heard a cry for help. Darkspawn! Quickly they sprang into action and easily saved the merchant, Bodahn and his son Sandal. Alistair knelt down by the body of a woman. She was a mage. That gave him an idea and he started looking through her pack, “Janna, come here a minute.” She quietly walked over and knelt down next to him and looked at him, waiting. “Have you ever thought of wearing mage robes? A lot of times they’re enchanted for armor and defense. Maybe there’s something here you could use. I’ve even heard of some that were enchanted to fit the wearer, but I’ve never seen one of those.”
 
Jannasilane looked at him, considering, and then fingered the mage’s robe. “Thank you, Alistair, for thinking of me,” and she emptied the mage’s pack. She found a garment of vivid blue and held it up against her. Alistair’s eyes widened and he swallowed hard; it was not a big robe. In fact, it looked a lot like one of those Chasind robes except it was quilted cloth instead of leather and didn’t have the high neck. He was convinced the Maker sent her to torture him. “No leather, not even the belts. I’ll be right back,” and with her prize in hand she sprinted behind the ramp connecting the highway to Lothering.
 
Blake wandered over to where Alistair was kneeling next to the dead mage and looking off into the distance. “Problems, Alistair? Where’s Janna?” He looked amused.
 
Alistair groaned, “I think she’s changing her clothes.”
 
Blake’s eyes gleamed with interest, “Is she? Where?” he looked around and realized there was only one place she could be. He took a step in that direction but General Lee stopped him with a look of rebuke in his eye. Somehow the little minx had gotten his dog to stand guard for her. He stepped back to Alistair, chuckling. “What on Thedas did she find?”
 
Alistair didn’t have to answer because Jannasilane returned just then. Blake whistled under his breath. He patted Alistair on the shoulder in sympathy even as he smiled at the unusual woman. Oh yeah, she was sexy. She also had an air of innocence and seemed to be unaware of her impact which just made her sexier as far as Blake was concerned. Alistair, interested and inexperienced, was in trouble. He quietly snickered to himself before he spoke to Jannasilane, “I see you found something else to wear. It suits you,” he couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.
 
Jannasilane didn’t understand why he was amused and smiled back at him uncertainly. She looked from him to Alistair who was very red. “Is something wrong? Am I not wearing this correctly?” She twisted around to try and see herself from all angles.
 
Alistair tried not to gawk, but it was hard to see her moving like that and so close. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the length of leg exposed by the robe. It was quite low in the front, but the small robe was still better than the ripped up dress she was now carrying. “It, it looks fine. You look nice.” Mentally he hit himself on the head, “Nice? I told her she looked nice?” She didn’t seem upset though, she actually smiled at him. “So, uh, how does it feel? Can you use it?”
 
“Yes, I think so.” She looked at the woman and shifted uncomfortably. “Alistair, I, I would also like the robe she is wearing. I may be able to alter it to suit me. If this should start to tear . . .” her voice trailed off at the nearly identical expressions of the two Wardens. “Did I say something wrong?”
 
Blake recovered first from visions of the robe falling off Jannasilane. “No, no you’re right. She won’t be able to use it anymore, poor woman. We don’t have much coin, we probably won’t find a lot of merchants where we have to go and now that we’re fugitives we will have to be very careful. Do you need any help? We could just take all her things and you can look at them more carefully when we set up camp.” He briskly gathered up the woman’s belongings and put them back in her pack. With a delicacy which surprised Alistair he and Jannasilane began to remove the woman’s robe.
 
Once she folded the robe and added it to the pack she arranged the woman’s limbs as modestly as possible. She touched her fingers to the woman’s forehead and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered to the dead, and stayed beside the body for a moment out of respect. Alistair waited patiently beside her. He liked that even though she felt it necessary to take the woman’s clothes she took the time to give her what respect she could. When she stood up he touched her shoulder and together they joined Blake and the others.

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 10 febbraio 2013 - 02:28 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 4: Early Evening at Camp 
 
 
They found two ponds fairly close together and decided to camp next to them. After they set up their tents, Alistair started some water for stew and Jannasilane went through the mage’s items more carefully. When she found soap and a hairbrush she bit her lip in excitement and looked longingly at the far pond partially hidden by some bushes. It had been days since she felt safe enough to bathe. That was a long time for somebody used to bathing every day. Seeing that everybody else was occupied in their own endeavors she decided now was as good a time as any. She grabbed the robe and her dress, thinking she might as well wash them while she had the chance. She slipped away, letting the others know where she was and prepared to indulge.
 
Alistair finished the preparations for stew and thought about taking a quick bath in the pond. Since leaving the Chantry he had deliberately not bathed as often as he was accustomed to; it was his own protest against the daily freezing baths all trainees were required to take. Cleanliness might be favored by the Maker but he never understood why the water had to be freezing. Some mornings he felt his private parts were shriveling to nothing. He had to wash a lot of pots and pans for asking that question, but at least that water was warm. Ever since meeting Jannasilane he had been more aware of himself and realized he needed to get clean. He could also admit to himself that he preferred being clean and that he was only hurting himself at this point. He gathered together his things and, as soon as he saw Jannasilane returning, hurried to the ponds.
 
Alistair scrubbed his skin and hair and his thoughts drifted towards the small woman who had recently been here. The thought of her wet and naked wouldn’t go away. He kept visualizing sucking on her nipples, sinking his hands into her rear, kissing and biting those lips. In his mind it was her hands all over his body, tangling in his hair, her slick body sliding against his. Images of her opening to him as he entered her kept him rock hard as he bathed. Finally, though he preferred not to after his years with the Chantry, he took himself in hand and quickly worked himself to release, moaning her name. “And that’s probably as close as you’ll get if you don’t change some of your ways, Alistair,” he berated himself as he dressed in moderately clean clothes. “I should probably wash my clothes soon,” he grumbled, disgusted with the bad habits he had let himself get into.
 
Jannasilane was sitting near the fire when he returned, slowly working the tangles out of her hair. Blake and Leliana were sitting nearby. He quickly moved the stew closer to the center after giving it a good stir. Jannasilane looked over, “It smells wonderful, Alistair, I look forward to partaking.”
 
Blake laughed, “You must not have eaten in days; Alistair’s a lousy cook.” He caught a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks and noticed her hand clutching her hairbrush.
 
Alistair also noticed. His eyes widened and he moved to sit next to her. When she turned away from him he put his arm over her shoulders so she was leaning against him. He ducked his head to try and see her face, “hey, hey, it’s alright. When did you last have something to eat?”
 
Jannasilane looked at him with wide eyes, the kindness in his voice snaking past her defenses, “A-almost a week.”
 
“Oh, you poor dear,” Leliana exclaimed, “What happened?” Blake drew closer and sat on the other side of her.
 
The obvious concern in her voice and Alistair’s expression loosened the grip she’d been keeping on her emotions. A tear slid down her face as she stared at the brush in her hands. When she started to tremble Alistair couldn’t help himself, he just picked her up and set her in his lap, surrounding her with his arms and stroked her hair. He had a brief moment to think how well she fit before she began speaking in broken sentences. “My parents, our home . . . there was a fire. They were trapped in the house. They . . . they were killed.”
 
“I am so very sorry. What a terrible thing to happen, I am glad you survived,” Leliana spoke quietly in a soothing voice.
 
Blake narrowed his eyes and asked the question he and Alistair were both thinking, “I thought you said Duncan was your father.”
 
Jannasilane felt his suspicion and could feel Alistair drawing away mentally, though his hand kept stroking her hair. “Duncan, I am the child of his seed, yes. But he did not know me or I him. We were planning to go to Denerim when I turn seventeen in order to meet him. The man I call Father is the man with whom my mother wed and shared her life, the man who helped raise me and taught me. I am the child of his heart and he is the father of mine,” she lifted her head defiantly and stared at Blake, then Alistair. “I did not lie.”
 
“You’re sixteen?” Alistair asked quietly in some disbelief. “I’m lusting after somebody who’s practically a child. I am a drooling lecher.” He took a breath, “I’m sorry about what happened to your parents. When did this happen?”
 
“Two, maybe three weeks ago. The days are kind of muddled. I heard about the king’s army and the Blight, so I decided to go to Ostagar. There I . . . I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” She stood up and walked away into the trees.
 
Alistair looked after her, wanting to comfort her and not knowing how. Blake looked at him, “let her go, Alistair. She needs at least a few minutes. When she comes back you can talk to her if she wants to talk. She’s pretty strong if she’s been on her own with little food for that long. It’s pretty amazing, really, I never would have guessed from the way she fought.” Blake waited until Alistair turned back to the stew, “nor would I have guessed she was only sixteen.” He smirked when the big blond groaned and he patted Alistair’s shoulder in commiseration. Sixteen certainly explained the air of innocence he detected earlier, Blake thought. She was probably a virgin too. Poor Alistair.
 
Jannasilane came back, her lashes wet but her face was dry. The others were already eating and Alistair handed her a small bowl, “you need to eat, and you should start slowly with small portions,” he said quietly. She nodded but just sat there for a few minutes looking into the fire. Finally Alistair spoke up, “umm, if you like I could brush your hair for you while you eat.” She still didn’t say anything so he decided to take that as a yes and found her brush and sat down behind her. He very carefully and very slowly worked the brush through her hair, patiently undoing any tangles he found. He tried to think of her as a child who needed comfort, but it was difficult. He could feel her relaxing and felt good when she started to eat.
 
Later, Jannasilane retrieved the clothes she’d left behind at the pond. The clothes were dry enough so she could examine them. She looked at Alistair shyly and gathered up her courage to speak to him again. “Alistair, if the long robe is enchanted will I do any harm by cutting it?”
 
“Umm,” Alistair stirred the remaining stew as he thought about getting a third helping, “not that I know of, but you should probably ask Morrigan, she would know more about that than I would.” He sympathized with her when she pouted, but couldn’t help thinking how kissable she was. “She’s coming this way, ask her.”
 
“Ask me what, pray tell?” Morrigan sighed dramatically and sneered at the lot of them.
 
Jannasilane stood so she could look up at the other woman without straining her neck and held up the robe. “This robe, I want to cut it to fit and was wondering if I would mess up any enchantments. Would you please take a look?”
 
Morrigan snatched the robe and rolled her eyes, “Very well.” She ran her hands over it and concentrated. “There are some nice resistances here, some armor and defense properties, but the active principles are all in the belted area. You can cut off the skirt, the sleeves, even the neck without damaging the enchantments. The worst that would happen if you cut into it elsewhere is that you’d only be left with the armor property which was woven into the cloth itself.” She handed the garment back to Jannasilane.
 
“Thank you, Morrigan, for your assistance,” Jannasilane replied. The witch just nodded regally. Behind her back Blake rolled his eyes mockingly. Morrigan brewed herself some tea, or something, and watched as Jannasilane quickly started cutting into the robe. “Why are you cutting before you even try it on?” she demanded.
 
Jannasilane looked up with amusement, “I am nowhere near as tall as you or the mage who owned this garment. I am cutting what I know I will want or need to cut and then I will try on this robe. I do not think tripping over the bottom will allow me to properly judge the fit.”
 
“You have a point,” the witch grudgingly admitted before returning to her own tent site.
 
“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Janna,” Alistair said quietly. Blake was amused to see the woman, no, girl blush at Alistair’s attention. “And,” Alistair added gallantly, “Since you don’t have a tent you can take mine.”
 
“No, I will not take your tent from you,” she replied with pride and fire in her eye.
 
“Janna . . .”
 
“No!”
 
“Well, you can at least use it to change, or whatever you need to do in privacy,” Alistair said in some exasperation.
 
Jannasilane nodded regally, “That I can do. I appreciate your kindness, Alistair.” She stood up with the robe and entered Alistair’s tent.
 
Blake joined Alistair by the fire. He smirked at the scowl on Alistair’s face, “nice try on getting her into your tent.” When Alistair glared at him he laughed, “I don’t know if I trust her, but I like her. She’s got a lot of spirit. And pride. I imagine that’s what has kept her going these past few weeks.”
 
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Alistair sighed. “I just don’t like the idea of her sleeping out alone, vulnerable. She’s practically a kid.” “I need to keep reminding myself of that,” he thought.
 
“Alistair, she may be young, but she’s not a child. And she’s still a sexy little package whether you want to admit it or not.”
 
Whatever Alistair might have said in response was cut off when Jannasilane came back out of the tent. In addition to cutting off the bottom of the robe she’d cut off the sleeves and opened up the neckline a bit. Her breasts were completely covered to both Alistair’s relief and disappointment. The mage had been taller than but not as curvy as Jannasilane so the robe was a snug fit around her breasts and hips while a little loose in the waist. As a templar in training he’d had plenty of time to observe that the women’s robes all seemed to draw the eye to the shape of their breasts and the sway of their hips. This robe was no exception, the close fit accentuating these areas even more. When cutting the bottom, Jannasilane followed the pattern of the skirt, so it was below the knees at the sides but sloped to a higher point in front and back. Overall, while her curves were very much in evidence she managed to look taller and leaner and strangely elegant.
 
Blake thought so too. His mind full of masculine appreciation he approached the young woman. As he told Alistair, he might prefer men as a rule but he wouldn’t mind exploring the many curves of Jannasilane. None of these thoughts showed on his face when he spoke, “What do you think? Whether you meant to do it or not, I think it’s quite flattering. And the dark green looks very nice with your hair and eyes.” He was amused by her blush, “Definitely a virgin. With her age and their combined inexperience I wonder if she and Alistair will ever get together. She seems to like him; Maker knows he’s infatuated with her. But if she’s playing us or hurts him . . .”
 
“I think it will be fine. It moves better than I expected, but I need to test it out. Would you spar with me, Blake? Just long enough for me to decide whether I need to do more?” Jannasilane looked up at him and waited for an answer.
 
“I’d be happy to, but why not ask Alistair?”
 
Jannasilane thought how to explain herself, “You fight as a rogue with quickness and agility. Countering you will give me an idea of any changes I need to make in just a few minutes.” “And I do not think I can fight Alistair. I do not wish to hurt him; he has been kind and . . . he has been kind,” she thought to herself, not ready to admit even to herself the strength of the pull she felt towards the big man with sun gold hair.
 
Alistair was watching them and stood up in horror when it looked like Blake was attacking Jannasilane. She quickly countered and their movements were a blur of activity for the next few minutes. Alistair wasted no time moving to stop the fight only to find himself sidelined by both of them at the same time. He grunted when he hit the ground, Jannasilane sprawled on top of him. “Ali, Ali, are you hurt?” her hands were softly stroking his face and her voice was husky with suppressed emotion. “We should have told you, I just wanted to test the movement of the robe, we were not trying to hurt each other. Ali?”
 
He heard Blake chuckling and turned his head to see his friend grinning at him, and then back to the curvy woman on top of him. The concern in her eyes and voice was his undoing. Nobody had ever looked at him that way, with concern over whether he, Alistair, might be hurt. The feel of her hands on his face and the warmth of her body on top of him were too much. He didn’t even think. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her mouth to his. His kiss was awkward at first, but when she responded he became surer of himself. He nipped her bottom lip and at her gasp slid his tongue into her mouth to dance with hers. She was hesitant and then joined him enthusiastically. It was only when he realized his hand was cupping and squeezing her rear did he come to his senses. Quickly he sat up, causing her to hang onto him rather than find herself flung to the ground. Carefully he set her aside. He gritted his teeth and ran his hand through his hair. He looked at her and gulped at the signs of awakened desire on her face and her lips swollen from his kisses. He took her hand in his and forced himself to look into her eyes, “I’m sorry, that was rude of me to grab you like that. You’re a beautiful young girl and deserve more respect and restraint than I just showed.”
 
Confusion and embarrassment chased themselves across her face before her emotions became unreadable. With an awkward attempt at dignity she nodded her head and stood up to go back into the tent, his tent. “How was it?” Blake asked the now brooding templar, amusement still evident in his voice. It was colored with wonder and sympathy when he added, “I don’t think I have ever seen two people ignite that quickly.”
 
“Doesn’t change the fact that she’s sixteen, practically a child, and I’m twenty-two. Maker, that was beyond anything I expected. And she’s probably vulnerable since her parents died recently.” Alistair buried his face in his hands in misery, “she’s going to come to her senses and realize I’m the randy old goat her parents warned her about and want nothing to do with me.”
 
Blake looked at Alistair. He wasn’t sure what to do or say; tentatively he put his arm around the other man’s shoulders in camaraderie and support. When he felt Alistair was calmer he began speaking slowly, “Alistair, first I want to remind you that you are a good man. But if you expect to be perfect at all times you are going to drive yourself around the bend. Second, I could easily say that right now you are also vulnerable because of Ostagar. Third, it may surprise you to know that many girls are married at fifteen or sixteen and would consider themselves lucky to be married to a handsome young guy such as yourself instead of their much older husbands. She’s young, but not a child and you insult both of you by thinking that way. Finally, you have feelings for her, and maybe they will burn out as quickly as they flared up, but I think she also has feelings for you. I’ve had a number of lovers, male and female, since I was fourteen, and I didn’t experience that intensity with any of them. I actually envy you. Don’t throw away the possibility just because you think she’s too young for you. She’s been on the road alone for three weeks since her parents died a tragic death. She’s had to grow up faster than otherwise. Take it slow if you want, give yourselves time to actually get to know each other, but don’t close the door or one day you may regret it. Just think about what I said.” With one last pat on the shoulder he stood up and left Alistair alone with his thoughts.
 
Blake couldn’t help laughing at himself. “Wouldn’t Fergus be amused at this situation? I’ve always taken my affairs fairly lightly and here I am giving advice to an inexperienced ex-templar. Add that I wouldn’t mind bedding both of them separately or together and you have the ingredients for one of those naughty Antivan comedies Mother tried to keep us from reading. Now we just need to add a jealous lover in the mix,” he thought wryly. He watched from a distance as Jannasilane came out of Alistair’s tent, now wearing the smaller Chasind style robe. She pointedly ignored Alistair and came to the fire and began cutting a little more off the bottom off the long robe. He walked over and sat next to her, watching her work, he wanted to get a better sense of her. She finished trimming the robe and put it aside to look at what was left of her dress. “Aren’t you going to finish the edges of the green robe?” he asked.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
He picked up the robe and got out the needles and thread they purchased in Lothering. “See where the threads are loose where you cut the fabric?” She nodded her head. “If you don’t do something with the edge, they will start to unravel and make it easier to tear. Watch,” he threaded the needle and began working on the robe, “if you stitch the edges like this, they will be stronger and look neater. You try it.” He gave the robe back to her and watched her begin, “no, not quite like that. Here, and then loop and pull,” his arms were around her as he guided her hands to correct her stitching. “That’s it. Keep it steady, once you get used to it you’ll find yourself going a lot faster.” He dropped his hands to the ground behind him and leaned back.
 
“How very . . . domestic of you, Warden,” Morrigan sneered.
 
Alistair joined them in time to hear Blake’s answer, “Yes, I’ll make somebody a wonderful wife one day.” He clasped his hands to his heart and batted his eyelashes, “It’s my hope and dream to find that special someone. Oh Morrigan, Morrigan, make my dreams come true, be the man to take me away from all this!” By this time he was on his knees, one hand reaching towards the witch entreating her to join him.
 
Morrigan was fuming. “And I thought he,” pointing to Alistair, “was the idiot. I did not realize this was a requirement for being a Warden.” She stalked off.
 
Jannasilane was laughing so hard her breasts were practically shaking out of her robe, causing Alistair to swallow hard even as he was smiling. Leliana was giggling musically and Blake pretended to be heartbroken and looking down at the ground. Sten was looking at them all in displeasure and went to talk to General Lee, the only intelligent being among them. “Blake, it is very unusual for a soldier to be so familiar with sewing, though most can do very basic repairs. How did you become so knowledgeable?” Leliana asked when they were all calmer. Alistair was sitting across the fire from Jannasilane so he could watch without being too obvious.
 
“My mother. About three years ago I took a bad fall and broke my left arm and leg. I was used to being very active and you can imagine that at eighteen and suddenly finding myself completely unable to get around was worse than the actual pain. The healer fixed the breaks, but said I needed at least six weeks before I should start moving around and training again or I might do more damage. Poor Mother was at her wit’s end when she decided I should learn needlework. Elissa, my baby sister,” he paused and took a deep breath before he could continue, “didn’t like to practice so Mother put us both together. She said that when I was on the road I couldn’t count on having a servant to do any mending for me and as far as she was concerned it was a necessity for every soldier to know the basics. I think she had Elissa practice with me just to make sure she was practicing but I was surprised to find it relaxing. And it kept my fingers nimble, which is important for a rogue.” He laughed in memory, his face lighting up and for a moment he looked young and carefree. “I was getting good enough to make Elissa work harder. She was very competitive, my baby sister. No way was she going to let a boy be better at something she was supposed to know. It was okay for her to be better at fighting than many, though.” He went silent as he remembered the last time he saw Elissa, her torn nightgown and . . .
 
Jannasilane was wistful when she began speaking, “I always wanted brothers and sisters, but it never happened. My mother taught me much about her potions, and was planning to teach me more skills with needle and thread while we traveled to Denerim. There never seemed to be enough time on the farm. I think she would have agreed with your mother, Blake, that all should be skilled enough to make repairs. Thank you for showing me.”
 
Blake looked at her; “maybe I’ll pretend you’re my little sister” he said with a smile and brought a mug of water to his lips.
 
Jannasilane ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the wicked mischief in her eyes. Very quietly, so only he would hear, she asked quizzically, “You thought of your sister as a ‘sexy little package?’” She was rewarded when water spewed out of his mouth and he started coughing violently. Calmly she pounded him on the back, “you should be more careful. Are you alright, do you need anything?”
 
When he finished coughing he looked into Jannasilane’s eyes and saw mischief mixed with intelligence and kindness. “I think you might be more like her than I thought. I can’t believe you heard that.”
 
“I have very good hearing and on the road I am more alert. I do not pry, but I could not help what I heard. I moved farther ahead to give you privacy.” She answered his unspoken question, “Here in camp I can relax and concentrate on other things, I do not hear so much. I know you spoke to Ali earlier,” and that was the only reference she was going to make to what happened, “but I do not know what was said. Nor did I try.” She sat back down and picked up the robe and began stitching again. Blake could only think that being a Warden was very interesting so far and wondered what other surprises lay in store.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 5: Nightmares Anyone?

 
 Blake took the first watch. He and Alistair agreed that until they knew their traveling companions better they would guard the camp at night, without relief from the others. Morrigan had set up wards around her tent, which was some distance from the others. She assured him they would last well past the dawn, so that was one less worry. In Lothering he and Alistair had picked up or scavenged some basic clothing they could wear in camp, at least sometimes, so their armor could air out. Leather could start to smell after a while if worn constantly. Alistair picked through the shirts and gave the smallest one to Jannasilane so she would have something more comfortable to sleep in. Blake was amused at how regally she thanked the templar, “still a bit miffed with him, I see.” She changed in Alistair’s tent once again and Blake thought how adorable and sexy she looked in the oversized garment. The sleeves were too long and it hung below her knees, but was loose enough to be comfortable. Blake quickly tacked the sleeves for her, “Good night, Package,” he said when she settled down in front of the fire and rested her head on her pack.
 
For the first time in weeks Jannasilane felt safe enough to relax enough for sleep. She’d had to make do with quick naps and short rests and she was so tired. Staring into the flames she thought of how they reminded her of Alistair’s hair and smiled sleepily to herself. He really was handsome, and when he kissed her . . . she could still feel his lips on hers and his hands squeezing her bottom. On those pleasant thoughts she drifted into sleep.
 
Jannasilane was excited; Alistair was joining them for dinner. Her mother had prepared something special and her father was watching indulgently as Jannasilane decided what to wear. Of all the young Wardens in Denerim, Alistair was the nicest as far as she was concerned. And he seemed to like her, too. . . . The scene shifted, dinner was over and her father was drawing Alistair out, taking his measure. The flames from the fire cast a warm glow on his face. She could see her mother approved . . . Fire! They set the house on fire! Wasn’t it enough to hurt them, she heard what they did to her mother. She heard her mother telling her she had to run, she had to save herself but everywhere she turned flames attacked her. Hands reached out for her, she kept tripping over the dead bodies of her parents . . . Blake was on the other side of camp when Jannasilane started to thrash. He made his way to her but Alistair, who’d quickly thrown on some britches, was already out of his tent and by her side. He took her into his arms before she could roll into the fire. He soothed her until she was relaxed again. She didn’t even wake when he laid her back down and stroked her hair before returning to his tent.
 
It wasn’t long before the nightmares started up again. This time when Alistair came out to soothe her, Blake spoke to him. “Alistair, just take her into your tent. You’re not going to get any rest at all if you come out every time she has a bad dream.” Blake admitted to himself he enjoyed looking at the other man in his dishabille, shirtless, loose cotton britches pulled on but not fastened, those well-developed muscles with the chest hair a darker gold than the hair on his head and the way the hair seemed to arrow to his groin. He sighed in resignation before answering the questioning look in Alistair’s eyes, “She obviously feels close enough to you to be comforted by your presence even when she’s asleep. If she has a problem in the morning we can deal with it then. You’re attracted, but you’re not a lecher or a rapist. Just go, already.” Alistair slowly nodded in agreement and carefully stood up with Jannasilane in his arms. As the templar walked away Blake noted that the man’s back was almost as good as his front. With some regret he returned to his watch.
 
“Poor thing probably hasn’t slept much more than she’s eaten,” Alistair thought as he laid her down on his bedroll. “Not how I hoped to see her here one day,” he smiled wryly as he lay down next to her and tentatively wrapped his arms around her as if she were some sort of explosive. He relaxed when she didn’t wake up. Since she couldn’t stop him he indulged himself by kissing the top of her head and nuzzling. He dropped off to sleep amazingly quickly.
 
Blake was surprised when Alistair didn’t come out for his turn at watch. He smiled to himself as he thought of possible reasons even though they were unlikely. He poked his head in Alistair’s tent. There was the warrior spooning Package, as he now thought of Jannasilane; he was holding her snugly against him, her rear where Blake was willing to bet was a nice erection and her head pillowed on Alistair’s arm. One of Alistair’s hands rested on her thigh where her shirt had ridden up and the other appeared to be cupping one of her very lovely full breasts. Judging from the way her nipple peaked, her body even in sleep responded to his. Blake looked at his friend’s face, it looked so peaceful and free of worry; he’d never seen Alistair so relaxed. He regretted that he had to wake him up. He crawled in so he could whisper in Alistair’s ear and gently shake his shoulder, “Alistair, time to wake up my friend, it’s your turn at watch.”
 
Alistair came awake instantly. He blushed when he realized where his hands were and that his manhood, nestled against Jannasilane’s backside, was standing hard. Not wanting Blake to see, he whispered, “Sorry, I’ll be out in a minute,” and waited until Blake crawled out of the tent before moving. It didn’t help when, as he tried to move away from her, she snuggled against him, the friction causing him to swell further. His eyes crossed but he disentangled himself, catching his breath when she rolled onto her back where he had been but she didn’t wake. He took a moment to look at her sprawled there almost in invitation, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, one knee cocked so her legs were bared, her lips soft and inviting.
 
He carefully put on his splintmail, wincing as he tucked himself away, and then, before gathering his sword and shield, he leaned over and gently kissed her. He felt her smile against his mouth and murmur a breathy ‘Alistair’ before settling back into slumber. He eased out of his tent and walked over to Blake, “Sorry, I haven’t slept like that in months.”
 
Blake looked closely at him; sure enough Alistair looked more refreshed than he could recall seeing him. “No problem, Alistair,” he replied. But he couldn’t help teasing the other man, “You two looked very comfortable snuggled together. Any problems with your armor?” Alistair glared at him, but his blush told Blake he was right. “Maybe she’s a living sleeping charm and you’ll have to sleep with her every night in order get a good night’s rest.”
 
Alistair snorted. “I doubt that would be a hardship,” he began then glared at Blake’s smirk, “and that is so not what I meant. Anyway, you obviously need sleep if you’re coming up with such whacky theories.” Blake just sauntered off to his tent where sleep beckoned.
 
Much as he wanted to just let it drop, he took the time to place his armor so it could air out some more and loosely pulled on some light britches then crawled into his roll. It didn’t take him long to fall asleep after that. He smiled to himself as he thought of Alistair and Package. He would have loved to stay there with the two of them, Alistair in the middle. Actually, it would have been nice no matter who was in the middle. He imagined all sorts of scenarios with the three of them before he drifted off, a smile on his face and his hand lazily stroking his manhood.
 
A sound, an unpleasant murmuring intruded on his fantasies. It grew louder and he put his hands over his ears but that didn’t help. It was inside his head! His head was itching from the inside; the murmur became increasingly more threatening. He swore he could smell darkspawn but there were none he could see. He kept turning, trying to see them but he only saw shadows out of the corner of his eye. Why wouldn’t the bastards keep still for a minute? He grabbed for his weapon and- Blake sat up, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. He heard Alistair softly calling his name from outside his tent. He rubbed his hands over his face before sticking his head out.
 
Alistair winced in sympathy at the haunted look on Blake’s face. “Bad dreams?” he asked already knowing the answer. Blake just nodded heavily. “I’m sorry, we should have warned you. It’s part of the Grey Warden package. Some can apparently block it out, but I don’t know how they do it.”
 
Blake looked at him, “any other unpleasant surprises?”
 
“Not that I know of, I’m sure there are some things you don’t know but early death and bad dreams are the biggies. The water is probably cold now, but you might like a quick dip in the pond.”
 
Blake thought about it. “That could be refreshing. Even if I don’t go back to sleep I’m sure I’ll feel better.” He grabbed a shirt and towel and strolled off. He paused as a thought struck him and looked back, “Alistair, you said you slept better than you have in months. Did you have any dreams while Jannasilane was with you?”
 
Alistair looked startled and then answered slowly, “No, no I don’t think I did. There have been other nights where I don’t remember dreaming, though. Hmmm.”As he kept watch he wondered if there was a connection. On one hand, he wouldn’t mind sleeping with her every night if it meant no dreams. On the other hand waking up every day with a frustrated erection would not be fun. And it would be incredibly selfish of him to use her for sex and sleep. He wouldn’t do it. Of course, this might all be moot if when she woke up she was angry with them for moving her.
 
Dawn was just breaking when Jannasilane started to wake. She stretched luxuriously and slowly blinked her eyes open and saw the roof of the tent. Roof of the tent? She sat up quickly and looked around. She was in a tent, Alistair’s tent. She narrowed her eyes and stormed out. There they were, the two Wardens, standing by the fire.
 
“Watch out, sexy storm coming our way,” Blake muttered to Alistair. He had to hide his amusement when Alistair turned around and immediately focused on her breasts. Her shirt had become unfastened while she slept and in her anger she hadn’t noticed. Luckily nobody else was up, or at least not around, to see her breasts bobbing in and out of sight.
 
She stopped in front of Alistair and looked up at him, arms akimbo. Both men could look down and see her breasts in all their magnificence. “Why was I in your tent?” she demanded.
 
“Uh, s-sleeping,” Alistair stuttered, transfixed by the sight allowed him by her gaping shirt.
 
“What are you looking at? I’m talking to you,” she hissed.
 
Blake barely had a moment to think, “Don’t say it, Alistair,” before Alistair answered.
 
“Your breasts.” Alistair flushed in mortification even as Jannasilane looked down and turned bright red in fury and embarrassment. “Maybe Morrigan is right and I am an idiot.” Not wanting to conduct this conversation in front of other people he panicked. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder and ran for the other side of the ponds.
 
Blake followed at a slower pace due to laughing so hard. He did manage to command General Lee to watch the camp and keep others from following. He didn’t go after them just for his own amusement; he was legitimately concerned about what might happen. When he caught up to them Alistair had set Jannasilane down in front of him and he was kneeling so they were face to face. He had a good grip on her upper arms so she couldn’t wiggle away. Blake wondered if he realized he was keeping her from closing her nightshirt. He decided not to say anything. This was better than any play or book.
 
“I didn’t mean to say that. And I didn’t mean to stare at your breasts,” Alistair cursed himself for being stupid. He had wanted to calmly explain why she was in his tent and here he was instead talking about her breasts.
 
“Why? What’s wrong with them?” Jannasilane didn’t know why she felt insulted, much less why she said anything at all. She’d felt off balance ever since he kissed her and then put her aside. She didn’t understand how she could crave his touch after such a short time, or even what she really craved.
 
Alistair stared at her. One of them was crazy and now he wasn’t sure who. “Nothing is wrong with them. They are more beautiful than I ever imagined and I want nothing more than to kiss them, lick them, and suck on them, every glorious inch.” He was appalled, the words pouring out of his mouth came straight from his **** instead of his brain and he didn’t know how to stop them. “I’ve never in my life felt anything as good as when I kissed you yesterday. I wanted to kiss you until we went down in flames. I only stopped when I realized I was grabbing your ass, your sexy, full, curvy ass. I’ve wanted to grab you from the moment I saw you and bury myself in all your curves.” Finally he took a deep breath so he could get his brain ahead of his mouth. “But you are not some **** in a brothel and I was taught to respect women. I’ve never been with a woman before. I don’t want my first time to . . . to just satisfy an itch no matter how big an itch it is,” he continued quietly. “I want to at least know the woman more than we know each other now. I want to know we have some common ground, be friends, not an anonymous encounter. And you’re only sixteen; you have a lot of time to find more than I can offer.” He removed his hands from her arms and sat back, his breathing shaky.
 
Jannasilane’s own breathing was shaky after Alistair’s confession. She slowly refastened her shirt as she thought of what to say. “I do not know that I am capable of your ‘storybook romance.’ I do not believe that is in my future, so it is not something you can cheat me out of. When I met you, I was struck by your kindness, not just how handsome you are. You comforted me and I felt safe in your arms. When you kissed me, I didn’t know how to respond but I didn’t want you to stop. I felt insulted when you apologized.” She licked her lips and cleared her throat, “when you were talking just now, I didn’t understand everything you were saying but I wanted it. You obviously know more about such things than I, but I too would like my first time to be with a friend. Maybe with you, but you’re right when you say we don’t know each other that well. I admit I’m confused.” Then she smiled mischievously, “I won’t be sixteen for long. In five weeks I am seventeen.”
 
“I feel less like a drooling lecher now,” Alistair replied drily. She just snickered. They both seemed to have forgotten about Blake. “Look, about last night, you were having nightmares. I came out once and held you until you calmed down. They started up again and when I came out Blake suggested I just bring you into my tent so we could both get some sleep. I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t like having you with me, but nothing happened. I promise.”
 
“I know. And I feel stupid for yelling at you. I remember now, I was dreaming about my parents and the fire.” She looked so sad Alistair just wanted to comfort her and make her pain go away. He held out his hand and was relieved when she took it. “What will you do if I have more nightmares?”
 
“I don’t think it’s even possible for me to leave you alone. I will at least ask if you want to sleep in my tent. Otherwise I’ll just stay with you,” Alistair answered. Then he grinned, “And right now I give you permission to join me in my tent to hold me if I’m having nightmares.” He stood up and she lightly punched his arm with her other hand, but didn’t let go of him. For the moment, at least, they were on steady ground.
 
Together they turned to go back to camp and saw Blake standing there watching. It was hard to say which of them turned redder at realizing he had heard every word they said to each other. Blake just smiled sunnily. “I wanted to make sure neither of you killed each other, but all this unfulfilled lust in the air made me positively weak in the knees. If either of you want advice, I’m available.” He leered playfully, “and if either of you want a little practice I’ll be glad to help out in any way.” Alistair shut his eyes and groaned, while Jannasilane’s mouth dropped open at the thought of the two Wardens doing non-Wardeny things. Blake walked over and gently closed her mouth before bending down to gently kiss her, “Ah Package, you have a lot to learn.” He sauntered off ahead of them, glee in every stride.
 
Alistair lit on what he felt was the safest part of Blake’s statement. “Why does he call you Package?”
 
Jannasilane peered up at him sideways through her thick lashes, “I have very good hearing, Alistair.” That was all she would say about it no matter how he tried to tease it out of her.
 
They were back at camp when he finally realized what she meant, “Oh Maker!”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 6: More Nightmares

Too bad none of them noticed the man in Dane’s Refuge because he was one of Howe’s spies. He quickly made his way to Denerim and reported to Howe. Howe paid him and then dismissed him. “Damn those Couslands! The blasted Warden must have somehow spirited away that miserable pup. Just my luck that first he didn’t die at Highever with his pathetic parents and sister and then didn’t die at Ostagar with the rest of the damned Wardens.” Renden Howe didn’t waste time brooding. He was well on his way to having everything he wanted, what he deserved, and he simply needed to figure out the best way to deal with what was, after all, a minor obstacle. He poured himself a glass of brandy and contemplated the golden liquid before taking a sip. He did so enjoy good Antivan brandy, it was one of the more innocent pleasures he allowed himself. He was about to take a sip when he stopped and he started laughing, “Of course, Antiva. The Crows can deal with this impediment. They’ve certainly been useful in the past.”
 
After they broke camp Alistair asked where they were going first. After talking to Ser Donall about Arl Eamon and Ser Bryant about trouble with the Circle he thought they would be going to one of those places. Blake had a different idea, “Denerim. We need more coin, more information, and possibly more equipment. We’ll cut through the northern edge of the Brecelian Forest and look for the Dalish there on the way.”
 
“What about Arl Eamon, or the Circle, shouldn’t they be priority?” Alistair protested. Morrigan smirked at the expression on Blake’s face.
 
“No, we’re going to Denerim,” Blake lifted one eyebrow as he looked at his friend, “when we get there you can lead us to lunch.” Alistair flushed but didn’t say anymore. They set out and avoided the road. Alistair walked along the side of the group and Blake was a bit ahead.
 
Jannasilane caught up to Blake and stayed beside him. Finally she spoke up rather timidly, “Blake, are you angry with Alistair? For asking a question?”
 
Blake looked down into her face and bit back the sarcastic reply he was about to make. “No, Package, I’m not angry because he asked a question, it’s that he questioned my decision and did so in front of everybody. It’s about respecting my leadership, Alistair didn’t want to lead, didn’t feel ready; he was never trained to lead or take responsibility other than following orders. I’m hoping he has it in him because he’s a good person and I will need a second-in-command I can trust if we ever get this army gathered. I was to be in charge of the Teyrnir while Fergus and Dad,” he paused a moment, “while Fergus and Dad were at Ostagar with the king. My father taught us that you don’t allow anyone to undermine your authority by questioning your orders or decisions. If he had come to me privately beforehand and voiced his concerns or made his suggestions I would have listened. Would I have changed my mind? I don’t know. A leader has to be respected in order to be effective, not well-liked. I prefer to be both, but,” he shrugged.
 
They walked along in silence for a bit. Finally Blake huffed, “I can hear you thinking, Package. You’re right, I handled it poorly. I’ll talk to him.”
 
Jannasilane peered up at him sideways, “My mother never liked it when I questioned her either.”
 
“Are you saying I remind you of your mother, brat?” Blake teased her in mock anger. “You’ll have to pay for that remark.” He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder and began spinning around in a circle, “Elissa always pretended to hate it when I did this,” he yelled. Jannasilane was pounding on him and General Lee began bouncing around them and barking. Blake stopped spinning and called out, “Alistair!” As soon as the templar looked up Blake tossed her, “Catch.”
 
Alistair had quick reflexes and he plucked Jannasilane out of the air and held her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on while she steadied herself. Alistair didn’t complain. He couldn’t talk while his face was so close to her cleavage, his brain just shut off. Jannasilane relaxed her hold and narrowed her eyes at the Warden, “I am not a play toy,” she told him through gritted teeth.
 
Alistair chuckled. He couldn’t help it, she looked so adorable glaring at Blake, “I don’t know,” he whispered in her ear, “you could be my play toy.” Surprised she looked at him. The rumble of his voice caused a shiver to course through her. Her answer was to move her hand to his ear lobe and give it a quick twist. He let her down, grumbling, “Ow, that hurt.”
 
By this time Blake had joined them. Jannasilane glared at both of them as they struggled manfully to control their amusement while she regained her balance. She stalked ahead of them, leaving the two of them smiling at her less than straight path. After a moment awkwardness settled between the two men as they trudged forward. Jannasilane smiled to herself when she heard them talking quietly. At the end of day only Morrigan was in bad humor.
 
For two days they were able to move quickly and uneventfully. The third was wet and cold. Blake was exhausted; Morrigan’s snide comments were getting to him. All day long she’d been arguing with one person or another. Even Sten, one of the most stoic people he’d ever met, looked ready to skin the witch and roast her over the fire. He quickly stripped off his leathers and crawled naked into his bedroll. Soon he was asleep. They were at dinner. Fergus had already left and he and Dairren were playing an old game, seeing how much they could tease each other under the table while conversing with their various table companions. That Renden Howe would be extremely disgusted by such behavior between two men just made it more fun as far as he was concerned. He didn’t understand why Father liked the man; fortunately none of his children were like him. At one point he nearly lost it when Dairren’s foot was rubbing his thigh and Lady Leandra’s hand was massaging his groin. She certainly got ‘flirty’ when she drank. Dairren flashed him a wicked grin, he’d put up with his mother’s advances to his friends for years. Bann Loren was not fond of his wife and the poor woman was criminally lonely and desperate for basic human contact.
 
Once he got his mother settled for the night Dairren joined him in his room. For a while the two talked. They enjoyed the occasional sexual encounter but mostly they were just good friends. Dairren was surprisingly hairy, he always looked so clean-shaven you’d expect his chest to be smooth as well but instead he was hairier than normal. Blake usually preferred wiry men with smooth chests but something about Dairren’s sturdy build and crinkly, thick chest hair always tantalized him. Almost casually they undressed and continued talking as they slipped into bed. Conversation stopped when Blake slammed his mouth over the redhead’s, all that teasing at dinner from the other man and his mother had him ready to go at the first touch of skin.
 
Dairren was primed as well, he bit Blake’s lower lip before bringing it into his mouth and sucking on it hard. His hands were roughly stroking the rogue’s back and digging into his ass. Blake’s fingers were busily twining themselves in Dairren’s chest hair before he moved down to bring the other man into his mouth. His practiced motions quickly worked to bring Dairren to the brink and then he stopped. He reached over him so they were rubbing against each other and opened the nightstand drawer and brought out a vial of oil. Blake kissed him and handed him the vial, tacitly letting Dairren know he was now in charge. Dairren grinned and rolled Blake over before covering him with his body. Blake enjoyed the feel of Dairren’s hairy chest rubbing against his back.
 
Dairren quickly oiled himself up then primed Blake’s entrance. He loved seeing the confident rogue reacting to him. He positioned Blake the way he wanted him and teased him with just his tip while he reached around and grabbed the other’s member and started squeezing and massaging, setting the pace he wanted before he started slowly pushing forward into the other man. Blake usually preferred being the one in control, but every now and then he really enjoyed letting somebody else be in charge. He was breathing harshly when he thrust backward so that he was completely filled. Dairren worked at controlling himself, but feeling so tightly surrounded made it hard. He held Blake still until he was ready to begin thrusting again, then he grabbed the other man’s hips so he could control the pacing. Blake clenched his muscles in response and Dairren groaned. He began moving faster and faster until he spilled. He remained inside and once more reached around and this time grabbed Blake’s erection with both hands until he also spilled his release. Panting, Blake reached for some damp cloths he had ready and they cleaned up as best they could while staying connected. Dairren pulled Blake to him, spooning him, and they talked for awhile before drifting off to sleep.
 
A few hours later General Lee’s growling woke them up. Blake went to him, “What is it, boy?” Dairren opened the door before Blake could stop him and was cut down where he stood. General Lee leapt forward to attack and Blake leapt backward to retrieve his daggers. As soon as the immediate threat was dealt with he knelt by Dairren, “I’m so sorry, my friend,” he whispered before quickly pulling on his leathers. He met his mother in the hallway and together they checked on Oren and Oriana. “Maker’s breath,” Blake swore upon seeing their lifeless bodies. He ran to Elissa’s room but she wasn’t there. He and his mother had to fight their way through the castle. Blake never admired his mother’s strength and courage more than he did as they fought for their lives against Howe’s men. Seeing little Oren nearly broke her, but it was Elissa’s body which finally caused her to cry. Blake nearly cried as well, his baby sister must have gone to the study to read, something she frequently did, and Howe’s men found her there. She had a gag in her mouth and it was more than her virgin’s blood pooled between her thighs.
 
Now he and his mother weren’t fighting Howe’s men, they were battling darkspawn in the castle, their scritching whispers invading his head. Some of them had Howe’s sneering face. Darkness, darkspawn, Howe, and death took over his subconscious. He kept fighting but it was becoming harder and harder. The darkspawn were winning the battle.
 
Jannasilane was staring into the flames when she heard thrashing coming from Blake’s tent. Alistair, who was on watch, heard it too. Jannasilane stood at the entrance to the tent, wondering if she should wake him up when she heard him cry out. She made her decision and went inside while Alistair stayed nearby in case she needed a hand. Jannasilane blushed when she saw Blake’s naked form but crawled all the way inside, avoiding his fists, until she could whisper in his ear. She put her hand on his shoulder and whispered, “Blake, Blake, it’s only a dream, wake up.” As soon as she touched him he turned and clutched her to him as if she were the only thing between him and insanity. At that moment perhaps she was. He never woke but gradually he did settle into a restful sleep but every time Jannasilane tried to move away he tightened his hold. Finally she gave up and shifted so she was more comfortable, her arms loosely around him and his head pillowed on her breasts. Eventually she too fell asleep.
 
Howe and his men were gone. The darkspawn were gone from his head, their incessant whispers and scritching disappeared. Well, maybe not gone so much as kept away by some benevolent force, a field of peace that appeared between him and the darkspawn. A blanket he could wrap himself in and finally relax. He was so damned tired. Gratefully he rested his head and slept.
 
Morning came, as grey and wet as the day before. Slowly Blake came awake. He stretched and shifted his head on the pillows without opening his eyes. “Pillows?” He opened his eyes then and saw two gorgeous breasts. He followed their outline up to Jannasilane’s face. She was still sleeping and looked so young and vulnerable. He remembered then the nightmares which began shortly after he entered his tent for the night and wouldn’t let him wake but wouldn’t let him rest in sleep either. He remembered how they suddenly seemed to stop or go away. Certainly he felt very well rested. He smiled as he looked at Jannasilane; he was willing to bet he owed the best sleep he’d had since Ostagar to her presence. He moved so he could look down at her. Gently he kissed her on the lips and waited for her to open her eyes. She blinked, rather like an owl and looked up at him in sleepy confusion. “Thank you,” he said and moved out of her way so she could sit up.
 
Jannasilane sat up and smiled shyly before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “I’m glad you’re not angry. I tried to wake you but you couldn’t hear me.” She scurried out of his tent to gather her clothes and change. Blake heard Alistair asking how she was and how he was. He smiled at the concern shown by his friend even though he suspected most of it was for Package. After last night he was going to have to talk with both of them, he had an idea but he wasn’t sure if they would go along. He whistled as he made coffee.
 
The day remained grey and wet and Blake’s spirits undimmed. Before they were close to camping for the night he fell into step beside Alistair. “Alistair, except for the night you took Jannasilane into your tent, have you had any nightmares?”
 
“Well, yeah, every night since then if you really want to know. Why?” Alistair asked.
 
“Last night, after Package came, was the first real sleep I’ve had since Ostagar. I want to try an experiment, if she and you agree. I want to combine our tents and for the three of us to share the space.” Blake looked at Alistair, “for sleep, not sex,” he hastened to add. Then he couldn’t resist, “though if sex happens . . .”
 
“So, the three of us have our bedrolls in the tent, Jannasilane in the middle I presume, and we see if the two of us have nightmares or not. You know everybody will think we’re both, um, having sex with her. Do you really think that’s fair? What does she get out of it?” Alistair didn’t know how he felt about Blake’s suggestion. He wouldn’t mind more time with Jannasilane but he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with the idea of three of them sharing the tent. On the other hand being able to sleep each night was attractive. If there were more Wardens to share the burden he wouldn’t even consider it.
 
“She’s been in your tent, and mine. Morrigan talks because she’s a ****, not because she believes either of us have a connection with Package. You’re right, it’s not fair. The whole situation is not fair. I hate the idea I might not be able to sleep without a pacifier, at least until the Archdemon is dead. I can try to work on blocking it out, but how long will that take? How long before not sleeping causes me to make a fatal mistake? Last night was the worst before she came, but they’re not getting any better. If you have any other suggestions I’d like to hear them,” Blake responded.
 
“Might as well talk to her now, then. Before we set up camp,” Alistair left Blake to get Jannasilane. The three of them wandered further away from the others so they couldn’t overhear.
 
Now that she was in front of them they hesitated to speak. Jannasilane looked from one man to the other, waiting. Finally she looked again at Alistair, “What is it you wish of me, Alistair?”
 
“To let me lick and nibble you from head to toe,” was his immediate thought in response to her query but fortunately he was learning to think before speaking with her. “We’re thinking of combining our tents and want to know if you’ll join us,” he blurted out, his cheeks pink.
 
Jannasilane couldn’t believe her ears. Her eyes got wide and she flushed, “I-I-I d-don’t think I’m ready for that, Alistair. And when I am, am ready I think I would prefer to be with one man, n-not two.” She took a step away, blushing furiously then stopped as a thought struck her, “how would we even fit?” She slapped her hand over her mouth, mortified that she spoke that last out loud. Alistair’s eyes practically crossed at the images passing through his mind.
 
Blake burst out laughing; he couldn’t help it as he looked at the others even if he was a bit irritated at Alistair’s phrasing. “I’m sorry, Package, that’s not what he meant.” He went on to explain about the nightmares and how he had a theory that she somehow managed to block them. She calmed down and looked thoughtful while she considered this new information. He lifted an eyebrow, “I promise you one thing, my sexy little Package,” he leered playfully, “there are ways for the three of us to fit if you are ever so inclined. But that’s a discussion for another time should the two of you ever decide to favor me with such a gift.”
 
Jannasilane didn’t look at either of them while she thought. She remembered something her mother said and wondered. Not for the first or the last time she wished she could consult her directly instead of pages in a book. Just when Blake was convinced she wouldn’t agree she spoke. “Very well, if you think it might help we shall try this.” She walked away from them plagued by her secrets.
 
Alistair followed her. Tentatively he touched her on the shoulder, “Janna, are you sure you want to do this? If not we’ll just do what we’ve been doing. We could try setting our tents close to each other, with just enough room for you to sleep between us without actually sharing either of our tents.”
 
“Do you think that would work, Alistair?” she looked up at him, her eyes full of secrets yet trusting him to answer honestly.
 
His shoulders slumped, “No, not really. We don’t sleep that far from each other now. But if there’s any chance at all then I think if you want to try it we should.”
 
“I appreciate your honesty, Alistair, but I would rather test Blake’s theory in the most favorable conditions first and find out as quickly as possible if he is correct. Perhaps we could leave the tent flap open? At least for now?” she asked hopefully.
 
“We can do that. I’m sorry we’re asking so much of you, Janna. If Blake is correct then perhaps it’s connected to your ability to sense Grey Wardens.” Jannasilane just shrugged and smiled at him.
 
When it was time to set up camp the others watched with interest at Blake and Alistair worked on combining their tents into a larger one. Morrigan sneered, “So, Warden, you finally managed to seduce the dim-witted templar. I am hardly surprised.” Alistair flushed angrily but held his tongue. It was hard as the witch continued to make comments denigrating his intelligence, his will and his manhood.
 
Jannasilane, who’d been gathering firewood, came back in time to hear some of Morrigan’s comments. She narrowed her eyes in irritation and carefully put down her armful of wood. She sauntered past the others and purred at Alistair, “Wardens, shall we go inside to check how we fit?” She didn’t wait for an answer, she simply ducked inside. Alistair grinned and followed her inside, Blake close on his heels. Blake had to bite his tongue a few minutes later when Jannasilane looked at the two of them, frowned thoughtfully and observed, “The two of you are awfully big, I’m not sure you’ll both fit.” She looked startled when she heard a strangled coughing outside their tent.
 
The two men looked at each other and hid their grins from Jannasilane, they recognized Morrigan’s muttering. Blake, a little louder than necessary, reassured her, “Don’t worry, Package, I promise you we’ll fit.”
 
Jannasilane was the first at the fire the next morning; it was Leliana’s turn to cook. She was much better than either Alistair or herself. Morrigan sauntered up and eyed the small woman, “You look relaxed though I’m surprised you had room to turn in that small space.”
 
Surprised at the seeming friendliness of the witch Jannasilane answered her, “I think we all had a good night, thank you. At first I wasn’t sure it would work because they are both so large but it was just a matter of positioning. It was a snug fit but surprisingly comfortable once I got used to it.” She couldn’t understand why Morrigan was getting redder and angrier before stalking off. Leliana was hiding a small smile behind her cup of coffee. Jannasilane had no idea how her innocent remarks were infuriating the witch.
 
Later in the day Alistair remarked on Morrigan’s behavior, “Blake, does Morrigan seem a little strange to you? I mean stranger than normal. I’m used to the angry looks but now there seems to be speculation as well. It’s a bit scary, if you ask me.” Blake had also noticed the almost predatory speculation directed their way.
 
Leliana came up quietly behind them, causing them to jump, “Gentlemen, I think perhaps I can explain.” She regaled them with the exchange between Morrigan and Jannasilane at breakfast. By the time she was done Alistair was flushed and both men were laughing.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 7: A Simple Gift

 
So far Blake’s theory seemed to be correct. Jannasilane found she was sleeping better as well. She felt safe for the first time since her parents died and she enjoyed talking to Alistair at night before falling asleep while Blake took the first watch. Blake was a little harder to know; he was better at hiding his emotions and was naturally more aloof. Still, it was a bit difficult to not get to know somebody better when you woke up next to them every morning. He didn’t talk about his recent tragedy, or she hers, but sometimes in the morning or if they happened to be awake they talked a little about growing up. Blake was attracted to Jannasilane, but he felt protective of her more than anything. He enjoyed her enthusiasm for new experiences such as the trip they were making into Denerim.
 
Jannasilane’s eyes were sparkling with excitement as they neared the gates. “I didn’t realize how big it was. I thought Lothering was big, but this . . . this is huge. And noisy,” she answered with a slight grimace. She rubbed her ears, “I suppose I’ll get used to it. Do you think they have a Chanter’s board here, too? What will we do first? Do you think they have candied nuts? My mother used to tell me how much she enjoyed going to the big markets and treating herself to candied nuts.” Her expression grew wistful as she thought of her mother.
 
“I promise that if we find any candied nuts I’ll buy some for you, maybe we can share them later,” Alistair grabbed her hand and pulled her into the heart of the marketplace.
 
It was late afternoon and they were putting up the new and larger tent. Four would fit comfortably, and they would use one of the smaller tents as an entrance so the men could take off their armor without disturbing those sleeping within. Jannasilane finished tying down the corners and looked up at Blake, “I liked Denerim, once I got used to the noise. It’s all so exciting, so much going on. I do have one question, how can people stand to have their streets covered in such filth? I think that’s the first time I can remember actually wanting to wear shoes or boots. The alleys were even worse. Did you find out everything you wanted to know?”
 
“It’s worse than I thought. Loghain made Howe the Arl of Denerim. That’s a lot of power for one man to have and many of the Banns here are reluctant to speak out openly against either of them. They may not like what Loghain has done but with the darkspawn threat they need to be careful about committing forces against him.” Blake scowled at the thought then sighed in resignation, “On the plus side Loghain’s tactics are further alienating the Banns. He may not have people fighting against him right now, but he’s not going to get any more support. We’ve got some coin and we know which lands will be easier to travel through. Some of my family’s friends will turn a blind eye as long as we’re not too obvious. I’d rather fight darkspawn than Fereldens.”
 
Jannasilane peered up at him sideways, “Doesn’t it feel a bit strange to do work for Sergeant Kylon at the same time we act on tips from Slim Couldry?” She thought about it for a minute and added, “They’re both kind of fun, though.”
 
“Trying to make an honest man out of me, Package? Or maybe I’m trying to corrupt you,” he bumped her with his hip when she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed, “We need the money. Would it make you feel better if I told you I only took jobs from Slim that hurt Loghain or Howe supporters? Tomorrow we strike a blow directly at Howe. That bastard has been stripping the Cousland treasury and instead of turning it over to the war effort he’s squirreling it away for himself. We’re going to take it back.” Jannasilane could practically feel his determination as a physical force.
 
She rubbed his arm in comfort and offered him some of the candied nuts Alistair gave her earlier. He refused and she popped one in her mouth, “I should thank Alistair again for his nuts.” She laughed at herself, “I like sucking on them and seeing how long I can make them last until all the sweet is gone. Sometimes I even roll my tongue around them to get the sugar out of the crevices.” Alistair had come up behind her and stood rooted to the spot. She was putting away the small sack of nuts and didn’t notice the heat lighting the eyes of both men at the images conjured by her words.
 
Alistair literally shook himself before letting them know the stew was ready. He watched as Jannasilane left them and Blake moved to stand next to him, smirking at the templar’s discomfort. Alistair’s voice was hoarse when he spoke, “Do you think she has any idea of what she’s saying?”
 
Blake shook his head, “No. If she were older or more experienced I’d say yes but if she’s grown up as isolated as she’s given us to believe then I can’t imagine so. She’d have to be the best actress or bard in Thedas to keep up that air of innocence for so long in such close proximity. Sorry my friend, we’re just going to have to enjoy, I mean suffer, her turns of expression until she starts to realize what she’s saying. I don’t know if I want that to happen or not.”
 
Alistair agreed, “She certainly makes life interesting, doesn’t she?” Blake slapped him on the back when he muttered, “If we survive.”
 
He had the first watch that evening. Jannasilane felt a bit awkward retiring for the night with Blake instead of Alistair. She still wasn’t as comfortable with him as she was with the large blond warrior. Tonight was also the first time there were three different watches, with the others alternating for the middle watch. Blake was aware of her discomfort and waited in the small tent until she was settled in her own bedroll before joining her. The larger tent made it easier for them to space their bedrolls a bit farther apart. He pulled out a map from his pack and made some markings.
 
Jannasilane watched him for a few minutes before saying anything, “What are you doing with the map?” She edged over to him and looked at the areas he had lightly shaded. She traced with her finger where he had shaded Highever.
 
“We should avoid traveling through these areas if possible. We’ve got a lot of traveling to do and I want to figure out the best routes. I think we should go through here and to the Circle of Mages next. The Dalish could be anywhere in the Brecelian Forest, so we’ll cut different swathes through the Forest as we travel around. Where’s your home?” Blake asked casually.
 
“It used to be down about here,” she pointed to an area east and south of Ostagar. Blake noticed that the area she indicated was very isolated and to his knowledge had a sparse scattering of very small villages and farms loosely connected by tenuous paths barely wide enough for a small cart or wagon. “I used to have a little dog I called Buttercup. We found him in the woods and Mom nursed him back to health. I think he was left in the woods because he was so tiny. He never got very big. He was my best friend for years before he died.” She smiled remembering her pet.
 
Blake nodded. He thought back to when General Lee was a puppy and how happy he was when the mabari chose him. He smiled, “Our nanny used to tell us a story about a dog named Hohaku. Want to hear it? I’m pretty sure I remember it,” Blake asked. She nodded and waited for him to begin. “I should remember it after the number of times Nan not only told it to us but made us tell it back to her,” he thought. “I used to get impatient with that tale; I know she wanted me to remember it because General Lee frequently annoyed her. Now I wish I could hear her tell it again, with that same note of exasperation.” He put away the map, blew out the candle, and settled back, “Well, it begins with a tribe in the mountains, the chief’s son, and the birth of a war hound . . .”
 
The next morning Alistair was watching Jannasilane packing up her things in the tent since they would be moving on as soon as they rescued some of the Cousland treasury. He’d already finished except for one small package. “Janna, um, do you have a minute? I have something for you,” he held it out to her when she turned toward him. “I noticed you having trouble with the streets in Denerim. I saw these quilted slippers in the market and had a leather sole put on the bottom. I hope they fit. I know they’re not exactly pretty or elegant,” his voice trailed off and he shrugged his shoulders.
 
She smiled at him and opened the package eagerly. She tried them on and lifted one foot to show them off. “I can’t even feel the leather, the quilting is so thick. How do they look?”
 
“Beautiful,” Alistair replied. When Jannasilane looked at him he wasn’t looking at her feet but at her face. Her lips parted and she blushed at the look in his eyes.
 
Impulsively she leaned towards him, “Thank you, Alistair,” and kissed him on the cheek. She was slow to move back and he turned his head, his lips barely brushing hers. Alistair found himself entranced by the green flame lighting up her unusual eyes. They stared at each other and he slowly brought his hand up and stroked the side of her face before sliding it through her hair to the back of her neck. He held her still while he closed the breath of distance between them and softly kissed her. She sighed and leaned into him without breaking contact. 

When they finally broke apart a few minutes later they were both flushed and breathing unevenly. Alistair rumbled against her hair, “We should go.” Reluctantly he released her and watched her finish packing up and then exiting the tent. He took a deep breath and exhaled in a whoosh before following her out.

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 27 febbraio 2013 - 01:41 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 8: Ambush Anticipated

 
Blake was in high spirits over the next few days as a result of successfully divesting Howe of his ill-gotten Cousland gains. Alistair was also in good spirits. He enjoyed waking up next to Jannasilane each morning and to his surprise didn’t mind that Blake was also in the tent. Their travels were uneventful until some woman came running up to them yelling for help, “Thank the Maker, we were attacked! You must help us!” She ran off calling to them and leading the way.
 
Jannasilane stopped Blake and pulled him to the side, “Be careful, she’s lying, hiding something.” When he looked at her she had a far off look in her eyes and they seemed to be swirling ever so slowly.
 
“I don’t trust her or anybody I don’t know. But what makes you think she’s lying?” Blake was fascinated by the swirl of her eyes; he’d never seen anything like it. He felt he was looking into a gateway to the Fade until she slowly blinked and refocused on him.
 
Jannasilane continued looking at him and shrugged, “Her words had shadows.”
 
Blake thought a moment about what they would do. “If this is a trap, it’s too elaborate for ordinary bandits. We could leave but then whoever they are will try again and will know we’re on to them. I say we turn the tables. Morrigan, get ready with some quick immobilizers, Leliana you stay with her and have your arrows ready to go at the first sign of trouble or my signal. Alistair, Sten, stay in front of them but far enough away from each other not to be caught in the same attack. Package and I will be on the lookout for traps and hidden enemies. Not so different from usual, but we need to spread out and try not to look like we’re expecting a fight from them.”
 
“Is this some human wisdom, to knowingly walk into a trap?” Sten queried.
 
Blake and Alistair looked at each other and grinned. Blake answered, “Wise maybe not, but I think it’ll be fun.” Sten’s disapproval was obvious but he said nothing else. Going forward with surprise on their side they made short shrift of the would-be assassins. “Somebody went to a lot of trouble and expense organizing this. Let’s see what we can find.”
 
They began searching the bodies and removing anything useful or that had some value. Jannasilane was near the leader when he began to groan. She quickly went to his side and removed the weapons she could find as Blake and the others joined her.
 
Zevran had seen many beautiful women of different races, shapes and ages in his lifetime and the small woman near him was not one of them. Instead she was one of the most compellingly attractive women he had seen with her harsh exotic features, sensuous mouth and untamed hair. And her breasts, the way she was leaning he had a good view of a most impressive pair. He groaned, “If it weren’t for the pain I would think I was dead for surely such a goddess would not walk among us mortals.” Jannasilane looked around to see what he was talking about but Zevran’s attention was diverted to the man who snorted in amusement, the Warden. A very attractive man to be sure. And another equally attractive man with the build of a warrior and ruddy blond hair was nearby and glaring at him.
 
Jannasilane went to stand next to Blake, “He must have really good eyesight. I wouldn’t have thought he could see Morrigan or Leliana from where he is.”
 
“I think he was talking about you, Package,” Blake responded with a grin. He laughed when she hit him in disbelief and stood closer to Alistair. He turned his attention back to the assassin and kept his fingers on his daggers, “Now, what to do with you?” Zevran made several suggestions, only one of which was to answer questions. Alistair flushed at some of the answers and his eyes glittered dangerously when the attractive elf turned his attention to Jannasilane. Blake wasn’t at all surprised to learn the Antivan was one of the notorious Crows and hired by Loghain and Howe to rid Ferelden of its remaining Grey Wardens, namely himself and Alistair. Now he had to decide what to do with the tempting blond elf. He moved his gaze from those intriguingly wicked amber eyes to look at Package and Alistair, “So, what do you think?”
 
“You’re not seriously thinking of taking the assassin with us, are you?” Alistair demanded in disbelief.
 
Jannasilane moved closer and stared at Zevran searchingly for several minutes while he in turn stared at her then tilted her head to look up at Blake, “He is pretty, and he talks a lot.” She moved her hands as if weighing something and shrugged her shoulders. “Perhaps.” She didn’t say anymore, just waited to see what Blake decided.
 
“We can use all the help we can get.” Blake looked at Alistair who grudgingly agreed and then held a hand towards the elf who took it willingly.
 
Zevran bowed to them, “Then I shall pledge myself to you. I, Zevran Arainai will aid you in your fight against the Blight. On this I swear.” They finished looting the bodies and moved on. Zevran fell into step beside the interesting young woman with the magnificent breasts. He hadn’t met many humans who were shorter than a lot of elves and he was prepared to take full advantage of the view his superior height offered. “So, little pocket goddess, you think I’m pretty do you?”
 
Jannasilane flushed a little even as she raised an eyebrow in skepticism, “‘Pocket goddess? That has more poetry than ‘sexy, little package’ though I think some people need their eyes checked. My name is Jannasilane.”
 
“Too late, you’ll always be Package to me,” Blake interjected. Alistair refused to be drawn in to the conversation; he was too busy grinding his teeth.
 
“Jannasilane, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady. It is only fitting that you have two such handsome men to dance attendance upon you. I am only too willing to join their ranks. How is it you travel with the Wardens?” Zevran asked flirtatiously.
 
She looked at him as if he had hit his head too hard when he fell to the ground, “I joined with them between Ostagar and Lothering. You said you were a member of some bird organization? What do they do? I’ve never heard of them.”
 
Zevran staggered back playfully, “I am crushed! You have never heard of the Crows? They are a guild of assassins out of Antiva, the best assassins in all of Thedas. They practically rule Antiva.”
 
Blake smirked, “And you’re the best they have? How is it that Antiva hasn’t been taken over before now?” Jannasilane left the two of them bantering together.
 
Later Jannasilane was walking with Alistair, who’d been unusually quiet since Zevran joined them, when he finally asked her, “do you really think he’s pretty?”
 
Jannasilane looked up at him, puzzled by his attitude but answered his question, “No, not pretty.” Alistair was relieved until she continued, “I think elegantly handsome is a better description.” He just grunted. He didn’t like that answer any better. “Don’t you think he could help us, Ali?”
 
He couldn’t keep up his bad mood when she was looking up at him like that, as if he were one of the most important people in the world. He smiled, “Yeah, he probably can, if he proves trustworthy. I’ll keep an eye on him until I’m satisfied, but Blake’s right about needing more help. We don’t have a single treaty ratified yet and thanks to Loghain we have assassins, bounty hunters and other unfriendlies more concerned about killing us than the darkspawn.”
 
“Well, maybe they’ll get bored,” she laughed.
 
“Ri-i-i-ght, because bounty hunters and assassins are known for their short attention spans,” Alistair replied with good humor.
 
While they were setting up camp Zevran paid careful attention to his new companions. Morrigan, as was her habit, set up her tent away from the others. For this he was grateful. He found Ferelden to be cold enough without the additional chill of the witch’s presence during the night. He noticed the size of the Warden’s tent with interest. Morrigan slithered up next to him, “that’s where they ‘sleep,’ the two Wardens and their plaything.” She left him once she noticed him eyeing the others in speculation.
 
“Now why would the witch say that? She obviously bears no love for the delectable Jannasilane. Jealousy, perhaps? Or is the young woman perhaps not so young and innocent as I thought? The Warden, now he is not an innocent at all. I do not think I am wrong in thinking he might be interested in my handsome self. He is certainly an attractive and intelligent man. I wouldn’t mind a little dalliance with broad shoulders, agility, strong hands and tight rear. I have certainly dallied with worse on Crow business. And the pocket goddess, she is an intriguing young woman. A man could easily get lost in those curves and that hair. Perhaps traveling with the Wardens will be more fun than I thought.” He smiled to himself as he set up his tent where Blake directed him.
 
“Zevran, I’d like you to take the morning watch with me, if you don’t mind,” Blake ordered.
 
“Not at all, my dear Warden, it sounds like a good opportunity to get to know each other,” purred the Antivan suggestively and was rewarded by the banked heat lighting the other man’s eyes.
 
Zevran offered to cook dinner that night but Alistair wouldn’t hear of it. Not without close supervision to make sure no poisons made it into the pot. “Ah, to be watched . . . closely . . . by such a handsome young man.” Zevran leaned back as attractively as he knew how, which was very attractive indeed. He allowed his full lips to form a sensuous pout and peered up at Alistair through his lashes, promising all sorts of wicked delights if Alistair only had the courage to ask. ”Please promise not to be too rough when you search me oh so thoroughly. You would not want to ruin me for play, after all.”
 
Nostrils flaring, Alistair gritted his teeth, “that is not what I meant.” His eyes were cold, a strange contrast to the heat staining his cheeks.
 
Fortunately Blake intervened, “I’ll do any searching that needs to be done. I’ll watch him and you can watch the food. Of course, if you were cooking a little poison might add some spice,” Blake teased his friend. He held his breath until the chill left Alistair’s expression. “We’re going to need some firewood.” He waited until Alistair nodded and stalked off. Blake looked at Jannasilane, “Package, I think you better go with him. He seems a bit upset.” Jannasilane, who’d watched the exchange with wide, startled eyes, agreed and hurried after her friend. Blake kept his eyes in Alistair’s direction, concerned and confused about Alistair’s unusual coldness. That coldness went far beyond disapproval and was out of proportion to Zevran’s over the top remarks. Once the templar was out of sight he finally turned his attention back to the elf. He contemplated him for several minutes in silence.
 
Zevran stared back at him and shrugged, “Are you planning on searching me, oh handsome rogue and fearless leader? You will find me a willing subject of your ministrations.”
 
Blake lifted an eyebrow, amused at the elf’s unabashed flirtation, “You certainly have a talent for making anything you say a sexual invitation but I suggest you keep yourself in check with Alistair. You’re not going to do yourself any favors if you make a point of turning him any more against you.” Zevran nodded in acknowledgement but did not say anything. Blake sighed, “Well, let’s get on with that search, shall we?”
 
If Zevran thought he might get something past the Warden he was mistaken. Blake was very thorough. Nimble fingers guided by a devious mind searched every article of clothing on his body for small pockets hidden away both inside and out. Blake didn’t linger, but Zevran felt every light touch as a subtle invitation. He shifted slightly so that he was leaning seductively against the larger man. The only sign that Blake was affected by their closeness was when he undid the braids in Zevran’s hair and ran his fingers through the golden strands. Only then did his movements falter briefly and his nostrils flare as he inhaled the other’s scent. Blake stepped away from Zevran and dropped the leather ties into the fire. “I’ll give you some more ties for your hair. I know they aren’t soaked in poison.”
 
“I hope this means you are as delightfully thorough in other pursuits, Warden,” Zevran purred, hiding his annoyance at having to rebraid his hair. Blake grinned wickedly but didn’t say anything.
 
Later Jannasilane was bringing more wood to the fire and had to stop to admire the scene in front of her. Zevran was cooking, loosely flanked by the two Wardens. Alistair was carefully watching the pot and Blake, as promised, was watching the assassin. “That is quite a picture of masculine perfection, is it not? I sometimes feel quite plain in comparison.” Startled because she didn’t hear the redhead’s approach, Jannasilane turned around quickly and dropped some of the wood she was carrying. “I am sorry; I did not mean to startle you.” Gracefully Leliana bent down and retrieved the firewood. As she handed it back she added, “In Orlais one noblewoman liked to collect handsome young men. She was incredibly ugly but also very rich. And powerful. Surely she would have tried to add the three of them.”
 
Jannasilane looked at her doubtfully, “Collected young men? Why? What on Thedas would she do with them?”
 
Leliana coughed to hide the laughter threatening to make an appearance, “Well, some nobles have statues, she has men. At least one in every room and she would rotate them. Sometimes even make them wear costumes. When she grew tired of one she would pension him off quite handsomely with the understanding he would leave the city. There are many innkeepers and merchants who owe the start of their business to her patronage.”
 
“And she had them in every room, even th-the bedroom?” Jannasilane’s voice squeaked on the last syllable as realization dawned on her. She grew very red in the face and the next sound was a very quiet, “oh.” When she could talk again she looked sideways up at Leliana, “You’re right about one thing, she probably would try to collect all of them.” The two of them were giggling when they finally reached the cooking fire.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 9: Stories

 
“I’ve never been to Antiva, though I think Mother was there once. She said it was very warm,” Jannasilane interrupted Zevran’s musings. She would have flushed down to her toes if she knew she was interrupting his plans for seducing her, Blake, or preferably both at the same time. Zevran was nothing if not ambitious when it came to pleasure. Jannasilane was a particular challenge for him because she was innocent enough that she did not always realize he was flirting and when he did compliment on her looks she didn’t believe him. The fact that Alistair did understand and didn’t like it just added an extra fillip of enjoyment.
 
Zevran looked down at her, he still found that a delightful occurrence, and into her intriguing eyes now wide with curiosity and possible friendship. “You wish to know more of Antiva, do you? It is warm like a lover’s embrace, I could show you if you like,” Zevran was encouraged by her sudden blush and that she did not move away. He could practically hear the templar grinding his teeth ten feet away. “They say that flowers are always blooming in Antiva, though I don’t know if that is true. I hail from the glorious Antiva City, a glittering gem on the shore of Rialto Bay. Dark-haired beauties, the finest wines and music from minstrels’ lutes surround you. It is not harsh and cold like your Ferelden. I think you would enjoy the warm breezes through your hair, the hot sand beneath your feet and the cool waters of the ocean waves. Where do you come from, oh temptress?”
 
Jannasilane looked down and Zevran wondered what she was thinking. Finally she answered, “It doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t exist anymore. It was small and isolated but it was home.” She smiled at Leliana when she joined them. She was more comfortable with the redhead than she used to be. For her part Leliana was glad to have another young woman to talk to, Morrigan certainly would never fill the role of friend or confidante. In some ways Jannasilane reminded her of herself when she was younger and more innocent.  “Leliana, Zevran was telling me about his home. Have you ever been to Antiva?”
 
“Hmm, no. Lady Cecile often hosted delegates from Antiva. She was quite fond of Antivan wine and had many trading interests with Antiva. They were all very charming,” Leliana remembered. “After they left Lady Cecile liked to speculate on which ones were Crows and their purpose for coming to Val Royeaux. I think she enjoyed the, hmmm, the sense of having come near something dangerous. She was well past the age for suitors and tired easily. And I did travel with her to Rivain on a ship which stopped at several Antivan ports. Poor Lady Cecile, she was a bit confused. We were supposed to go to Nevarra,” Leliana giggled fondly at the recollection.
 
“Can’t she see how obvious he is?” Alistair growled to Blake as they observed Zevran’s interactions with Jannasilane.
 
“You mean more obvious than talking about her breasts?” Blake asked with feigned innocence. Alistair glared, and then smiled crookedly in acknowledgement. “Zevran flirts with everyone, you know that. Right now she’s enjoying his company. He and Leliana must seem rather exotic to her in comparison to the isolated farm that was her home. I’ll tell you one thing; he’s not going to wait for you to make up your mind what you want to do about your feelings for her. We’ve talked a bit on watch. He said something about taking advantage of the pleasures at hand because in his line of work tomorrow was uncertain.”Alistair nodded his head thoughtfully.
 
“Doesn’t it bother you, though? I’m not blind. I’ve seen you looking at him,” Alistair watched as Blake’s gaze traveled to the backside of the Antivan. He had to give the assassin credit for somehow making every little movement an invitation, though if he trailed his fingers along Jannasilane’s arm one more time he would be hard pressed not to kick him in the aforementioned backside.
 
Blake was pleasantly imagining those fingers on his own skin while he contemplated how best to answer his friend, “I admit I find him very attractive. I’ve always preferred wiry, slender men.” He looked slyly at Alistair, “though if you were so inclined I’d be willing to make an exception. Did I ever tell you about my friend Dairren?” The templar just lifted an eyebrow, by now he knew the rogue well enough not to take him seriously. He couldn’t help a slight blush from appearing on his cheeks. “Anyway, I need to be careful. Unlike you I don’t think it necessary to have some deep feelings for a potential partner but I want some reasonable degree of certainty that I won’t be poisoned or stabbed in the back.”
 
Alistair chuckled in agreement. “That’s the smartest thing you’ve said today.”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 10: A Gorgeous Sight

 
Blake had just left the tent to take his turn at watch. It was a warm night so the tent flap was partially open for the breeze. Since the three of them started sharing a tent together Alistair took the first watch and Blake the last. The others took turns on the middle watch. Blake smiled to himself when he noticed that Jannasilane, who had been sleeping on top of her bedroll, automatically went to Alistair and he put his arms around her. He smirked as he wondered how long it would be before they acted on their mutual desire.
 
Alistair no longer dreamed of darkspawn and the Archdemon. Now he usually dreamed of her. Jannasilane. At first he was uncomfortable sharing a tent with her and Blake, but it was undeniably the easiest way for the two Wardens to get some decent sleep. Alistair slowly woke to the feel of Jannasilane snuggled in his arms, her breasts pressed against his side. In her sleep she had thrown one leg across his which caused her night shirt to ride up, leaving the back of her thighs bare against his hand. Her soft breaths were teasing the hair on his chest around his nipple and he had to stifle a groan at the unusual but welcome sensation. His groin tightened when she nuzzled him in her sleep. For both their sakes he tried to ease away without waking her.
 
He froze when he heard her whisper, “Alistair?” Her eyes fluttered open as she realized he was awake. Unerringly her hand found his face in the dim light cast by the fire through the opening of the tent and gently stroked his cheek. “What is wrong?”
 
He couldn’t help himself. He turned his head into the hand against his face, his lips brushing against the palm. Her hand stilled but didn’t move away. Her breathing became a little more rapid. He darted his tongue out to taste her skin and grazed her palm with his teeth. She gasped and he felt her nipples tightening against him through her thin night shirt.
 
Jannasilane felt an electric shock travel from her palm to her toes and unconsciously pressed herself against him. When he moved his head, his mouth seeking hers she met him halfway. At first their kisses were gentle, but gradually he became more demanding and she opened to him. The flame between them roared back into a blaze and soon her tongue was dancing with his. Callused hands stroked her flesh, causing shivers to race up and down her spine.
 
Alistair moved her shirt up so his hand could find her wonderful, magnificent breasts. Maker, they felt good in his hand. So heavy and rounded, the large nipples straining for his touch. He left her mouth and kissed her neck and shoulder, all the while stroking, fondling and exploring her breast. While his hand played with one breast under her shirt, his mouth closed over the nipple of her other breast through the fabric and she squirmed against him. When he lightly bit her and then sucked she bucked up against him.
 
She felt so warm, and there was an unusual heaviness building up inside her. She wanted something, she wanted more. She whimpered when his mouth and hand left her breasts and he rolled away gasping, “We have to stop. I’ve wanted to be with you since the day we met and if we don’t stop now I won’t be able to stop later. I’ve never been with a woman before and . . . I like you and don’t want to hurt you.”
 
Jannasilane felt bereft when he moved away, but her heart melted at his confession. Shyly she whispered, “Alistair, sweet Ali, you are too good. I also am a virgin, though I think you know this. I like you, too. You’re attractive, funny, and kind. I do not want to hurt you either. I ask only to be with somebody of my choosing.”
 
He felt pleased, flattered and disconcerted all at the same time. Weren’t women supposed to want romance and marriage? According to the Chantry his first time should be with his wife, ideally a woman he loved and who loved him in return. He just didn’t want to feel like a transaction which is why he never went to a brothel. He regretted now telling Blake that he was waiting for true love. He didn’t even know if there was such a thing. He had been bone-deep lonely and isolated for so long, and she was so warm and willing and even liked him. This would be no meaningless encounter. It might not be love but he knew it would be special.
 
He sat up. She could see him watching her, weighing his words. Finally he said, “I can’t promise you anything only that I will try not to hurt you. I’ll understand if that’s not enough, but if you . . .” was all he could say. He waited. When she sat up and then got to her knees he thought she was getting ready to leave.
 
Instead she came to him. She put her arms around his neck and nibbled along his jaw line, “I choose you, my Ali, my friend.” All restraint vanished as he devoured her. He couldn’t recall who removed her night shirt, but suddenly her bare breasts were pressed against his bare chest, their nipples rubbing against each in almost excruciating sensitivity. His hands were grabbing her hair, holding her head in place as he sucked on her ear, licking and nibbling her jaw, kissing her cheeks and then chewing her bottom lip. He was a starved child in a candy store and she was every sweet flavor imaginable. When she wrapped her legs around him he shuddered, he was too close.
 
In a quick move that had her writhing he had her back against her bedroll. With one hand he braceleted her hands so they were above her head, her arms framing her exotic face. Her hair was wild and spilling all around her. “Don’t touch me,” he warned, “I need to slow down or we’ll both regret it. Let me look at you. Maker, you are so beautiful,” he breathed as his eyes, filled with golden flame, traveled down her frame. He was memorizing every detail of her, the desire and nervousness in her eyes, the pouty fullness of her sensuous lips bruised from his kisses, the marks of his possession against her skin.
 
When his eyes lit once again on those magnificent breasts he brought both hands to them. He marveled at how they overflowed his grasp, at how her nipples became fuller and harder under the movements of his thumbs. They just begged for his mouth to engulf them and he obliged. He licked, sucked, bit and pulled. His hands squeezed, caressed and tweaked. Jannasilane’s hands were grabbing the bedroll in an effort to keep herself anchored while trying not to touch him as he requested. With one hand he ruthlessly pulled off her small clothes so she was fully revealed to him. Sudden shyness kept her still under his gaze. Slowly, reverently, his hand traveled down her torso, lying flat against her stomach for a moment before traveling further. His fingers tangled in the curls between her legs. He nudged them further apart and licked suddenly dry lips as she became completely open to him. His fingers explored the folds of her and found her entrance, damp with her desire.
 
He remembered something he had overheard one of the other recruits talking about and had a sudden urge to taste her. He slipped his hands under her rear and grabbed her as he brought his mouth to her core. His nostrils were filled with a spicy, musky scent that was all Jannasilane. He savored it before he started licking and lightly nibbling the tender flesh. Jannasilane started when she felt his mouth down there, the animals on the farm certainly never did that. Soon she was once again lost in sensation. Her fingers suddenly curling in his hair and her breathless whimpers urged him on. The roughness of his tongue when it entered her caused her to gasp in pleasure. She could feel herself growing damper as he feasted, something was coming. Something scary and wonderful. Then he stopped. He looked up at her, “I’m sorry, love, I can’t wait anymore,” he growled and finally pulled off the loose cotton britches he slept in along with his smalls. He didn’t see her gaze widen when she saw his manhood for the first time, fully erect and pulsing with life.
 
As he kissed his way back up her torso all she could think was that that was supposed to fit there? Oh how she wished her mother had told her a little bit more. For a moment she relaxed against him when he kissed her, exploring the odd sensation of tasting herself on his lips. Then he thrust once, hard and deep and she felt a searing pain as something inside her tore. She closed her eyes against the pain but tears slowly leaked out. When he started to move again she panicked, “Don’t move, just, just wait.”
 
Alistair thought he had never felt anything as wonderful as when she fully surrounded him. The tight fit, the warm heat made him feel as if he had come home. He enjoyed the moment until he felt the urge to move begin to overtake him. When he heard her whispered plea he stopped and looked at her. The tears he saw smote his conscious and only now did he remember something else he had overheard; that the first time for a woman was almost always painful. That the barrier he thought he felt wasn’t just her body’s unfamiliarity with the act but a physical barricade of flesh he had ripped through without thinking. He knew he was not a small man in any respect. Using all his willpower he held himself still inside her as he kissed her tears away and apologized for hurting her.
 
Jannasilane felt the pain receding and her body stretching to accommodate him. His concern and the tender way he kissed her tears made her relax some more. Soon she began to enjoy the feel of him inside her. When he nuzzled her ear and traced its outline with his tongue she gasped and moved her hips in unconscious invitation for him to move. He did so, slowly at first and then faster as she became more receptive. Finally desire ruled all and he was thrusting in and out, hard and fast until he spilled into her. The moment of his release he thought he was going blind with pleasure, he kept pumping until he was empty and collapsed on top of her. Her arms loosely embraced him, stroking his hair, his neck, his back while her own body quivered from frustrated desire and remembered pain before relaxing. She nuzzled him where his neck met his shoulder. She licked his skin, causing him to shiver. She felt him start to harden again inside her, this time the sensation was pleasant.
 
He pulled away, though it was hard to leave her warmth. She winced a little at first and he smiled, relieved because she smiled up at him. He found a health poultice, some clean cloths and water. He looked down at himself and grimaced to see he was covered in her blood. “Maker, I’m surprised she can bear to look at me.” Alistair crawled back to her. He kissed her lightly on the lips and then poured some of the poultice and water onto a cloth. She sighed in relief when he started to clean her in light, soft strokes. The cool water and healing potion making her feel much better. He poured a lot more of the poultice into the cloth and just held it against her entrance, hoping it would help. Only when he felt he had done all he could did he clean himself up. He did so quickly and then lay next to her, wrapping his arms around her, grateful she didn’t pull away from him. To his surprise she snuggled closer. “I am so sorry I hurt you, I never wanted to hurt you,” he whispered into her ear.
 
“I know, Ali. I was surprised more than hurt,” she lied. “I liked most of, err, it.” She could feel herself blushing when she added that last.
 
Alistair looked at her, his expression serious. “Don’t lie to me. Maybe you did enjoy a lot of what we did, but I know I hurt you. Don’t ever lie to me, not even if you think it will make me feel better.”
 
She looked at him. Slowly she nodded her head, “very well. I will not lie. When you, you were first inside me it hurt. The pain was mixed with surprise, but I did start to feel some pleasure again. That is the truth. I know you didn’t want or try to hurt me. That is also the truth. Nothing my mother said quite prepared me for the reality. I am still surprised you fit. That too is the truth.” She lay her head back down on his chest, soothed by the way he held her and stroked her hair. “I like the way you hold me, as if I were something precious. Is that enough truth?”
 
“I suppose that will do for now,” he half chuckled. “Now get some sleep. You wore me out, you know.” Her answer was to punch him. He gave an obligatory ‘oof’ and they both drifted to sleep.
 
This time Jannasilane woke first. She was sprawled on top of Alistair, his hands loosely draped over her rear and the two of them were naked. She blushed as she remembered what happened between them and smiled shyly to herself. His light snoring reassured her he was asleep so she took advantage of the opportunity to really look at him. “I didn’t realize how many muscles he has. No wonder he wears that armor as if it were nothing.” Her eyes moved down from his chest and she shifted so she could see the rest of him. She gulped when she saw his manhood lying softly against a well-muscled thigh, “it looks so different from last night, but still big. His hair is a bit darker than the hair on his head, it looks soft.” Tentatively she reached a hand down to stroke it. When her hand touched him his member twitched and she jumped.
 
“It won’t bite,” Alistair rumbled laughingly. He hugged her to him and brought her face to his, “But I might,” and he kissed her. He sat up holding her in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. She could feel him growing behind her. “Good morning, how are you feeling? You look beautiful,” he said huskily.
 
“F-fine, Ali.” She stuttered and blushed at the way he was looking at her, his hazel eyes gold with the fire burning in them. She leaned into him and kissed him softly, sinking into his embrace. Soon they were lost in mutual tenderness and growing desire.

Blake entered the tent, calling out, “Wake up sleepyheads, time to get-” he stopped suddenly when he saw them. He whistled, “Well, now, that’s a gorgeous sight first thing in the morning.” He allowed his gaze to wander as they froze. He smiled in appreciation of their generous assets. His friend was a well-built man, indeed. “I hate to interrupt but everybody else is ready to go. There’s coffee and some food left.” He sobered when he turned and saw the bloody rags. Blake looked back at Alistair with a question in his eyes. Alistair nodded and the Warden indicated the two men would talk later.

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 11 marzo 2013 - 07:10 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 11: An Unexpected Circle


“So, the templar finally made his move,” Zevran thought as he watched Alistair and Jannasilane emerge from the tent. Zevran recognized the slight air of possession and the air of smug male satisfaction after having achieved the object of one’s desire. He strolled over to the breakfast fire where the new lovers were quickly grabbing a meal. “So, did the two of you sleep well? You look a little bit tired, bellissima. I hope Alistair didn’t thrash around and keep you awake,” Zevran smiled innocently at them. Alistair wasn’t fooled and he frowned at the assassin. Jannasilane was confused by the Antivan’s odd phrasing. Fortunately they were in a rush and she didn’t think any more about it.
 
Later, while they were traveling, Jannasilane sought out Leliana. She had some questions and while she trusted Blake more than the redhead she felt uncomfortable talking to a man. She made sure they were some distance from the others before she drummed up the nerve to speak, “L-Leliana, m-m-may I ask you s-something p-personal?” She couldn’t bring herself to look at the other woman and just knew her face was as bright as any fire. Leliana murmured her assent, her eyes twinkling as she suspected the subject under discussion. “Y-your first time w-with a, um, with a man . . . well, did it hurt? Will it hurt again?”
 
“I thought you and Alistair had furthered your relationship,” Leliana answered. Jannasilane looked up at her in surprise. “You are a bit different around each other, and to one who knows the signs . . .” Leliana’s voice trailed off and she shrugged elegantly. “But I do not think you realize you are asking two different questions.” This time Leliana flushed delicately, “I am honored that you feel comfortable enough to ask me. Did it hurt the first time? Ye-es, there was some pain but more discomfort. He was skilled enough and, hmmm, let’s say thoughtful enough to make it as easy as possible. Since we are all aware of Alistair’s lack of experience is it safe to say you experienced more than just a little discomfort?”
 
Jannasilane was relieved that she understood and was willing to answer her questions. Letting out a soft sigh Jannasilane relaxed. She explained with perhaps more detail than she had planned. Leliana just nodded, keeping her expression under control because she did not want Jannasilane to regret telling her anything. She liked the younger woman, girl really. She didn’t know why Jannasilane seemed wary of her from the moment they met. Leliana determined that Jannasilane would not regret confiding in her. When Jannasilane finished talking Leliana tilted her head thoughtfully, “well, Alistair showed sensitivity to your needs, that is a plus. In time he will become more skilled and, I think, more in tune with what you desire. He has a generous nature and surely that will transfer to more intimate activities. He seems willing to take direction which should make it easier to tell him what you like or don’t like.”
 
They walked in silence while Jannasilane digested everything she just heard. Finally she spoke up, “so it won’t hurt again?”
 
Leliana hesitated as she debated with herself how best to answer, and then decided on total frankness, “It might. Though not in the same way.” She went on to explain that a woman’s body needed to be prepared in order for there to be no pain. She also discreetly described some alternate types of play until Jannasilane felt more comfortable. “That is why you must learn to talk to each other. Now, sometimes a little pain can intensify the pleasure but that is something you must find out for yourselves.” She smiled when Jannasilane’s eyes got wide as saucers and her mouth formed a perfect ‘oh’ of astonishment. Leliana couldn’t help giggling a little, “You know, men’s parts are not all the same size. So, how big, *ahem* is your warrior? I ask in the interest of your well-being, of course.”
 
Jannasilane chewed her bottom lip as she thought about it. She took out one of her daggers and used it as a measuring stick. This time it was Leliana’s eyes which widened, “Maker’s breath, I’m surprised you can walk!” Jannasilane sniggered and soon the two were howling with laughter. At one point they looked back at Alistair, who was talking to Blake, and started giggling again.
 
Thankfully the uncomfortable part of their conversation was over. Blake had given Alistair some helpful advice and they quickly moved on to what they might expect at the Circle. With his templar background Alistair suggested that possibly a number of unharrowed mages might have succumbed to demons, making difficulties. They were distracted by the giggling ahead, “What are they giggling about and why are they looking at me?” Alistair muttered. He glanced at Blake in a mild panic when he started chuckling. “Blake?”
 
Blake coughed, “Alistair, my naïve friend, women talk. My guess is Package and Leliana have been talking about last night and you. I think they enjoyed their conversation more than you did ours. I wonder if Leliana gave young Package some tips,” he added musingly.
 
“Oh, Maker! What is it with women?” the templar just shook his head and hoped it was not possible to die of embarrassment. Blake nearly choked when Alistair added with some relief, “at least she didn’t talk to Morrigan. If she had my parts would probably shrivel to nothing.” They both shuddered at the thought.
 
Zevran sidled up next to the giggling women, “the two of you seem to be in good spirits. I enjoy the laughter of beautiful women. Care to share what has you in such a good mood?”
 
Leliana and Jannasilane looked at each and started giggling anew. Finally Jannasilane gasped out, “No, I really don’t think so.” She refused to say any more no matter how he pried. Finally Zevran gave up and fell into step beside Morrigan. It was time to start working on the bet he made with the Wardens. Well, the Warden.
 
They reached Lake Calenhad the following afternoon. The Circle Tower was on a small island in the middle of the lake and they first had to convince the temporary ferryman to let them across. Confused would be the kindest way to describe the templar, Caroll. Alistair felt sorry for the lyrium-addled man and didn’t even grind his teeth when Caroll suggested Jannasilane stay with him for companionship. Fortunately Blake convinced, or intimidated, the man into letting them across. Only Jannasilane and Zevran went with the Wardens. The others would wait for them at the Spoiled Princess.
 
Jannasilane didn’t like the Tower. As soon as she stepped inside she felt uncomfortable. Knight-Commander Greagoir wasn’t thrilled to see them and only reluctantly explained that the Tower was overrun. There were too many abominations for his templars to handle and he’d sent for the Right of Annulment. “What is the Right of Annulment?” she asked Alistair.
 
“If the Grand Cleric grants it then the templars here will destroy everything and everyone in the Tower,” he answered soberly. “It’s only to be used in extreme circumstances. The mages inside are probably all dead or worse.”
 
Blake was arguing with the Knight-Commander. Finally they came to an agreement, “We’re going to find out what happened and restore order. The mages might be lost but we’ll get the templars’ support when we go up against the Archdemon. I am not going to require any of you come in with me, once those doors shut behind us they may not open again.”
 
“I’m with you. I thought my templar training would only be used against darkspawn emissaries, not abominations in the Tower but you’re going to need it.”
 
“I am with you and Ali.”
 
“You are not going to rid yourself of me so easily, my dear Warden. Perhaps I can comfort some young mage who will be grateful for my rescue.”
 
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose but Blake grinned at the assassin, “Not if I comfort him first.” Jannasilane ignored them all and strode through the open doors. The doors clanged shut once the four of them were inside.
 
Jannasilane moved forward slowly, looking and listening. She stepped into one of the apprentice quarters and wandered past beds, bodies, and small chests. She looked into a small alcove and stood staring at the broken bath. She started to shiver and rubbed her arms. “What happened to the doors?” she asked in an attempt to mask her apprehension.
 
“There were never any here. These are the apprentice quarters, senior enchanter and tranquil mage quarters are upstairs. None of them have any doors to prevent mages from getting together to practice unsanctioned magic,” Alistair explained.
 
She turned around and looked at him, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Alistair started squirming under her cool gaze. “So you could peep on the mages while they sleep, bathe and change clothes? I didn’t see any female templars out there in the front hall.”
 
“Perhaps I should have been a templar,” Zevran murmured mockingly. Alistair glared at him and Blake tried to hide a smirk.
 
“Look, I agree it’s hard on the mages. I’m not saying it’s right. I was never a templar and only templars would be assigned here but they’re not supposed to . . . to ‘peep’ as you put it.” His shoulders sagged, “but I’d be surprised if none of them did. I can’t exactly blame mages for not liking us. Young templar recruits don’t have any more privacy and I hated it. I never met any female templars but there are no rules against it so far as I know.”
 
“Humph,” Jannasilane sniffed and walked out to the hallway where she waited. “I do not like this place, Alistair. There is a, a wrongness here. I feel something pulling at me, trying to suck on me. The air is crawling over us.”
 
“I could suck on you instead. I assure you that you would find it more pleasurable,” the elf leered. Jannasilane looked at him blankly and Zevran sighed.
 
Concerned, Alistair put his hand on her shoulder, “I feel it too, but not as strongly as you. Do either of you feel it?” He chose to ignore Zevran’s comments. The other two men shook their heads. “I think that whatever happened here thinned the Veil and the spirits are much closer to us than normal. Be prepared.”
 
Zevran grimaced, “oh good, if we can’t see them how do we fight them, oh mighty templar?”
 
“If they’re here instead of in the Fade you’ll have no problem seeing the demons. Though they do have an annoying tendency to disappear into the floor only to reappear behind your back. Once this is over if any mages are still alive they’ll be able to strengthen the Veil. You probably should let me take the lead,” Alistair added.
 
“Gladly, this is way beyond my knowledge. I am really happy to have you with me at this moment,” Blake was as grim as they’d seen him.
 
They ventured further in and found a small group of mages and children. An older woman was standing guard at the doorway where some magical barrier had been erected against whatever was inside. A demon tried to get out and she quickly got rid of it. When she heard their footsteps she whirled around, ready to attack, “You!” she exclaimed when she saw the Wardens. “Stand back. I don’t care if you are Grey Wardens I will not just let you cut us down.” Jannasilane glared at the older woman. Nobody threatened her Wardens.
 
“Relax,” Blake smiled charmingly, “We’re here to see what’s going on and to resolve the situation. The old guy doesn’t have the Right of Annulment yet. Alistair and I met Jannasilane outside of Lothering and Zevran is a Crow from Antiva. He failed to assassinate us. Senior Enchanter Wynne was at Ostagar.” He turned back to the mage, “I am happy to see you survived the battle. What happened here?” he asked soberly.
 
“A nasty man named Uldred,” Wynne’s voice positively dripped with disdain. “He was at Ostagar but somehow managed not to be wounded. By the time I recovered enough to return he had just about managed to convince the First Enchanter to side with Loghain, that the Circle would have more autonomy. Well! I certainly was not about to let First Enchanter Irving remain ignorant of that man’s betrayal. Why Uldred would trust him I have no idea. Loghain has no love for mages. When Irving confronted him Uldred revolted. He obviously spent time recruiting several of the more discontented mages to his cause and now the Circle is in chaos and demons run rampant.”
 
Jannasilane was drawn to the barrier while they talked. She reached out to touch it and gasped. It seemed to sing to her and sent tingles all the way through her body. Zevran was watching her and lifted an eyebrow at her obvious pleasure. He touched the barrier and got a nasty shock. That got Alistair’s attention. His eyes widened when he saw the look on Jannasilane’s face, he’d seen that look the other night. Quickly he pulled her away from the magical door, “I don’t think you should be touching that.” 
 
Wynne agreed, “I’m surprised you were able to do so. I should have to lower the barrier but I have a feeling you could walk right through it. I don’t think that’s advisable. Be careful, child. The way ahead might be particularly troublesome for you. Now, all of you stand back.” Wynne brought her barrier down and the five of them stepped into trouble.

Modificata da QueenPurpleScrap, 24 marzo 2013 - 01:53 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 12: Beleaguered by Demons

 
They were approaching the library when Alistair stopped them. He looked down at Jannasilane, “Do you sense anything ahead of us? Since you seem to feel magic, if that’s the right term, maybe you can sense what we might be walking into.”
 
“You mean like you and Blake sense the darkspawn?” Alistair nodded encouragingly. “I will try to do this.” Wynne watched in fascination as the young woman’s eyes lost focus as she tried to determine what awaited them. She also noticed her hand holding tightly to Alistair’s. Jannasilane blinked several times and looked up at Alistair, “I think there are somethings near the door and farther in it feels like,” she tilted her head considering, “it feels like there are moving hotspots farther away.”
 
“Moving hotspots? Rage demons, perhaps. We shall find out soon enough,” Wynne readied her staff as Alistair led the way. Jannasilane was correct. The ‘somethings’ turned out to be abominations and possessed or charmed templars while the hotspots were indeed rage demons. The foreknowledge provided by Jannasilane enabled them to quickly dispatch the creatures. “This is one of those times I wish I knew some freezing spells. A blizzard would have been quite handy.”
 
“I don’t know, turning them into rocks so we could smash them seemed to work just fine,” Alistair replied. “It even gave me a manly sense of self-satisfaction.”
 
“Oh, Alistair, really,” Wynne rolled her eyes. The others snickered quietly.
 
“There are so many books; they can’t all be about magic can they?” Jannasilane was awed. Reverently she trailed her fingers along the edges of the books on the shelves, wincing whenever one was damaged or speckled with debris.
 
“Many are, of course. We also have histories, books on various flora and fauna, languages, geography, potions, races . . . I don’t think there’s anything we don’t have. We’re very proud of our library. Some of our texts are quite ancient and kept under lock and key in special containers. Perhaps when you have time and everything is more settled you can return and examine them more closely. For now we have other things to do,” Wynne reminded Jannasilane with a touch of asperity. Secretly she was tickled; so few students seemed interested that it was truly a joy to find a potential scholar.
 
Jannasilane flushed, “You are right.” She prepared herself for the next round of monsters but couldn’t resist one more glance at the library shelves. “Books are better than demons,” she muttered so quietly that only Zevran heard. He chuckled appreciatively. He was no scholar but he could certainly agree with that statement.
 
As they battled their way through the lower floors of the Circle Jannasilane found she was best able to detect rage demon and arcane horrors, hot and cold spots. It helped Wynne know which spells to prepare. She could detect other presences but not well enough to distinguish between blood mages, abominations, shades, or even charmed templars. The best she could do was sense where more powerful entities were lurking. Her head hurt from the contact. Physical fighting actually relieved the pain for short moments in time but there was still so much left to do, so many creatures between them and Uldred. When they entered the next level she breathed more easily, the immediate area was free.
 
“We’re by Owain’s stockroom, perhaps he is near, I hope he made it,” Wynne murmured. She looked more closely at Jannasilane. She could see the pain the young woman was trying to hide. “Child, you’re hurt. You should have said something,” she moved closer.
 
“Janna?” Concerned Alistair knelt and looked her over, “I don’t see any injuries.”
 
Jannasilane allowed herself to lean against Alistair for a moment, “My head aches, Ali. Every time my mind brushes against one of these creatures, it hurts. Killing them helps.”
 
“Then we’ll have to kill them faster,” he kissed her forehead before he stood up. “Wynne, can’t you do something? You’re a healer.” He looked back at Jannasilane, “When we’re done here I’ll start working with you on some templar meditation techniques. The same ones I’ve been trying to teach Blake. Hopefully we won’t run into something like this again but if we do maybe you’ll be better able to defend against it. Now let Wynne see if she can do something.” He stepped aside for the elderly mage and watched in concern.
 
“I’m going to perform some mild healing and increase the speed of your body’s natural healing ability,” Wynne said gently. Jannasilane sighed in relief as the pain in her head dimmed to a minor throbbing. “Unfortunately I don’t dare try to remove it entirely, not at this time. I’ve never met anyone like you, child, if I send too much healing magic towards you while we are surrounded by demons or worse I could cause irreparable damage or the conflicting magics could. I just don’t know and as long as you are able to function I prefer not to try. Doing so could leave you open to all sorts of attacks. I’m sorry, my dear.”
 
Jannasilane smiled, “I feel much better. Thank you. Is that your friend over there?” She pointed to the middle of the stockroom and began walking in that direction. As she drew closer she noticed that the pressure from the magic was lessening. She mentioned as much to Wynne.
 
“Perhaps because he is Tranquil, and before you ask a Tranquil mage is one whose connection to the Fade has been severed and is a null field, magically speaking.” Wynne smiled at Owain, “Owain, it is good to see you are still alive. Have you seen Irving or any other mages?”
 
“Niall was looking for the Litany of Adralla, but I do not know if he found it. I do not know where Irving might be. I hid when the demons came and then tried to leave but there was a barrier. Now I must clean. They made a mess in the stockroom.” He began setting the room to rights.
 
“The Litany of Adralla, Niall was at the meeting. There must be many more blood mages than we’ve seen so far. As bad as the abominations are the blood mages are worse. They will try to control our minds. If we can find Niall and the Litany we can fight against their efforts. We must hurry!” Wynne urged them.
 
The higher they went, the deeper into the Circle, the more and stronger enemies they had to fight. Jannasilane might suffer, but her abilities allowed Wynne to be more efficient and use less lyrium which might be needed later. They were moving fairly quickly when they heard a faint voice which almost seemed to be crooning. Jannasilane gasped and put her hand on Alistair’s arm, “there is something powerful up ahead, more powerful than we’ve seen yet.”
 
When they found a desire demon with her enthralled templar Blake muttered, “I wish you could be wrong sometimes, Package.” The demon had ensnared the lonely man with an illusion of the wife and family he’d always wanted, a dream Alistair understood all too well.
 
“I like it, all of the companionship and none of the cleanup,” the elf said cheerfully.
 
Wynne had quite the opposite reaction, “What you are doing is obscene and must be stopped!”
 
None of them were inclined to let the demon walk away with her prize, not even Zevran. Unfortunately that meant the templar died as well, his fate entwined with that of the desire demon. After the battle Alistair and Blake found a note, an official reprimand about his bad attitude while Wynne rooted through a broken cabinet looking for anything salvageable. Jannasilane was behind the privacy wall examining some things in a corner and rubbing her arms as if she were trying to remove something. Zevran took the opportunity to sidle next to her. “Is something wrong, Pocket Goddess?”
 
“I do not like these desire demons. They twist up something inside me, making me feel things that aren’t mine,” she shuddered.
 
“You mean you feel desire, right now?” he asked curiously. His eyes lit up at the opportunity presented to him. “Desire is one of my specialties, perhaps I can help,” and without giving her a chance to protest he covered her mouth with his own. He slid his hands into her hair enjoying the silky feel as he held her still. She was too shocked and couldn’t move anyway. Zevran took advantage of her stillness to deepen the kiss. He explored her mouth skillfully and gently ran his nails behind her ears and down her neck, scratching and massaging tense muscles. When she finally relaxed he stopped. She wavered for a moment when he broke the kiss and looked at him with hooded eyes. “Do you feel better now?” he asked and stepped away from her with a pleasantly inquiring expression.
 
Surprised by his question she took a moment to think. She worried a bit that she found Zevran’s kiss pleasant but had to admit that much of the darkness caused by the desire demon was gone or faded. She nodded her head cautiously and he smiled and left her. He mentioned to Alistair that Jannasilane was feeling some ill effects from the demon and watched the templar hurry around the corner.
 
“Why are you looking so smug, Zevran?”
 
The Antivan was disconcerted that Blake could read him so easily and took extra care in schooling his features as he looked at the Warden lasciviously. “Now I have you without the templar, my dear Warden. Perhaps the pocket goddess is not the only one to feel the lingering effects of a desire demon,” he purred.
 
Blake felt his groin tightening at the blatant invitation in the assassin’s amber eyes and took half a step toward him before regaining control of himself. “Too bad. Now’s hardly a good time to do anything about it,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Maker, I want to feel that elf under me.” He turned towards the door and raised his voice, “Alistair, Package, we need to move.” He couldn’t help smiling as the two of them hurried from around the corner. Package was blushing and definitely had kiss-swollen lips. For his part Zevran was rather pleased with the progress he had made with both objects of his desires.
 
Jannasilane held out some charms to Wynne, “I found these. Perhaps they will be useful?” Wynne examined them quickly and nodded approvingly. “Now that the desire demon is gone I feel clearer,” Jannasilane spoke to Blake, refusing to look in Zevran’s direction. “I fear there is a more powerful demon nearby, but I cannot tell you anything about it. It is in there,” she pointed to a door across the hall.
 
“Great, let’s see if we can find anything else to help us, maybe some more lyrium for Wynne. I have a bad feeling about this,” he shook his head.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 13: After the Fade
 
Blake was beyond tired. “At least the mages, those left, will be fighting with us. One treaty acknowledged two more to go. I’m certainly glad Alistair and Package were with us or it could have been a lot worse.” He watched them as they worked by the lake. She kept requesting he cleanse the area around them of mana in order to remove the ‘bad Fade’ from her. She said it coated her mind like slime and lingered like the smell of rotting eggs. Blake hated to think of what might have happened if they were in there for much longer. Her ‘magic barometer’ might have helped them but she suffered so much from the exposure. He shook his head thinking about their forced trip to the Fade so soon after their encounter with the desire demon. It might have permanently damaged or even killed someone less strong than their Package. He had to smile as he remembered meeting Demon-Uldred. He threatened to turn Blake into one of his creatures and Package leapt to his defense, shouting ‘No one threatens my Wardens!’ The screech she directed at the demon had him reeling and made it much easier to cut him down. Certainly dealing with Uldred was much easier than battling through the Fade.
 
“Did the sloth demon just get lazy? Why on Thedas would it choose Duncan and Weisshaupt as the vision I would most likely get lost in? Or perhaps it was amused at the thought of one of us escaping only to go round and round from one Fade island to the next, from one trap to another. Father always said General Lee and I were well-matched in stubbornness. Poor Niall, he seemed like a good man.” Blake sat for a while longer, just thinking and letting his mind drift. He smiled a little to himself, “Too bad I can’t turn into a golem or a burning man whenever I want. That part was kind of fun. Maybe I should keep that thought to myself; I don’t want anybody to think I’m crazy or can’t lead this bunch. Sten is disgruntled enough, though it is hard to know what he’s thinking. Alistair is the only one I trust enough to lead, or would if he were ready.
 
I wonder if Zevran made a move on Package. She’s been acting a little odd around him, but maybe she’s just still upset from the desire demon. Funny how she could sense the Sloth demon was there because it was so powerful, but was more hurt by the desire demon. . . She should probably stay away from lyrium. Wynne says Fade lyrium is different from real lyrium but I don’t really understand what she meant. I can still see Package hugging that lyrium plant as if her life depended on it when I found her. She wasn’t paying any attention to the demons. In fact she looked drugged, but when I showed up she was ready to go. She said it helped block out the demons and her headache.
 
That templar, Cullen, hurt her. I have to try and remember that he wasn’t trying to do so but I don’t know if I can forgive him for making her bleed. He’s strong though, had to be to survive that ordeal. It was worse than the Fade, I think. As soon as we were in the room Package moved as far away as possible from him, from that magic cage. I thought templars were supposed to have better control. I suppose weeks caged up and tormented by blood mages would make even Sten lose it. What a strange thing that was, Cullen’s rage wasn’t part of the cage that held him, but when he let his anger loose the cage got stronger and sent out spikes of energy and poor Package got headaches and a nosebleed. Yet Wynne and Alistair felt nothing. At least he apologized then and again later. He looked so miserably guilty and upset when we were leaving the Circle. By Andraste, I’m tired.”
 
He looked around camp. Zevran was cleaning his daggers and was obviously not in the mood for company. Blake couldn’t blame him, when they were all trapped in the Fade Zevran was forced to relive the brutal Crow training he endured. He had to be convinced he wasn’t a recruit being tested. It was harder to get Alistair out of his personalized prison. He looked so happy in the alternate universe created for him. Blake watched the templar working with Package and smiled, “I was more surprised that he had a sister than that he imagined living with the luscious Package. No wonder he didn’t want to leave at first.” He searched for and found Wynne. She looked as tired as he felt. He wandered over, “Are you sure you’re up to this, Wynne? It’s not going to get any easier. Kester can row you back if you’re having second thoughts.”
 
Wynne studied the young man in front of her. He was so very young to have so much responsibility thrust upon him, both the Wardens were. Tired as she might be she knew her place was with the eclectic group around her. She smiled gently at him, “I appreciate your concern. I’ll be fine after a night’s rest; these old bones still have some life in them yet. And I think my healing skills will be quite useful in the days ahead.” Her attention was caught by Alistair once again doing a cleansing around Jannasilane. “She is a very unusual young woman. I know Alistair plans on teaching her some templar meditation exercises to help build her resistance to magic. I’m not sure that will be enough. Did you know that a lot of the early training for young mages is about control and building defenses rather than magic itself? While I hope we don’t find ourselves in such a situation again I think maybe I can help her.”
 
Blake shrugged, “That’s up to Package but it sounds good to me.” Before he left he looked at her once more, “I’m glad you decided to come with us.”
 
Before settling in for the night Blake approached Jannasilane where she was brooding by the water, “Package, I’d like to talk to you about something. Come walk with me?” Silently she joined him and they walked away from camp and the Spoiled Princess.
 
Alistair watched them leave before beginning to make his rounds. He was concerned about Jannasilane, ever since being trapped in the Fade something was bothering her. She told him readily enough about the desire demon’s effects but not what happened after encountering that sloth demon. He wanted to ask her about it, but she kept changing the subject whenever he began speaking about it. Maybe Blake could get her to talk since he helped all of them get out of their nightmares. Alistair flushed as he remembered how easily he was fooled. Maker, he surely would have made a lousy templar if he could be that easily tricked. Thankfully Blake promised not to say anything.
 
Blake finally turned to her after several moments of uneasy silence while he contemplated how to begin. She was watching him warily, like a wild deer poised to flee. He decided to change his tactics, “So, I’m one of your Wardens, am I?” He smiled at her, “Thank you. Did I ever tell you why I became a Grey Warden?”
 
She relaxed. “N-o-o,” she replied slowly.
 
Blake sat down, arms crossed around his knees, and waited for her to sit next to him. “My father was the Teyrn of Highever. Arl Renden Howe was his friend for more years than I’ve been alive. Or so we thought. When King Cailan called on the lords of Ferelden to send troops to Ostagar in order to fight the Blight Father immediately began preparations. Couslands have always done our duty to king and country. The plan was for Arl Howe to bring his troops from Amaranthine and together they would travel south. I should say that was my father’s plan. Rat Bastard Howe had his own plans,” Blake sneered. He put an arm around Jannasilane when she laid her head on his arm. She snuggled against him, soothing him more than she realized.
 
He laid his head on top of her hair before continuing, “Howe’s family lost some of their holdings when they sided with the Orlesians. Later, after his father was defeated, Howe brought his family and troops over to the side of Maric and the rebellion and when it was over he was allowed to remain the Arl of Amaranthine. I never liked him but my father did. Or at least he felt a kinship because they fought together. His children were alright, Nathaniel and I used to be good friends. I don’t know if he always felt that way or if it started later but Howe resented the fact that his family was now of lower status than the Couslands. Amaranthine is a rich and influential Arling but that wasn’t enough. His resentment festered and he took advantage of the call to arms to betray my family. Fergus had already left with most of my father’s men and we were greatly outnumbered when Howe loosed his soldiers in the night. They were taking no prisoners. They even killed Oriana and my nephew, Oren. I can still see his stuffed bunny on the floor between him and his mother, soaking up their blood.” He felt her tears against his shirt and didn’t notice his own falling on her hair.
 
His voice dull and weary with pain Blake continued, “Howe’s men killed our guests, my old nanny, and any servants who didn’t manage to escape. Howe wanted no word getting out before he could put his spin on the situation. My sister Elissa, I told you that you reminded me of her, she,” he choked up and couldn’t continue for a moment. He hugged Jannasilane to him, “she was younger than me, about your age. They raped her before they killed her. She could be so gentle in spite of her fighting abilities. She didn’t even like killing spiders.” The tears became thicker and his body started to tremble with his grief. Jannasilane held him tight and nuzzled against his chest like a cat, giving what comfort she could. The trembling stopped and his words were thick with sorrow, “We found Father dying near the emergency escape in the pantry. Duncan managed to get him there while he looked for us. Mother elected to stay and fight by my father’s side, giving Duncan and I a better chance to escape. They loved each other, something not frequently found in noble marriages. They urged me to tell the king what happened so Howe wouldn’t get away with his treachery. Duncan’s price for helping me get to Ostagar was my becoming a Grey Warden.” He fell silent after that, finally dealing with his own pain even as he waited for her to speak.
 
Jannasilane was crying harder, his story was close to her own and she couldn’t contain it any longer. “The Chantry murdered my parents,” she finally sobbed.
 
This time it was Blake giving comfort as he held her and stroked her back soothingly. “My parents were kind people and Mother was very beautiful,” she sniffled when she quieted. “They did not wish to live in a city and we could be self sufficient on our small farm. They understood the woods and between what we raised and the wild plants and animals we had a good life. Mother was a talented herbalist and Father was an equally talented builder and carpenter. Last winter a vicious disease attacked villages in our area. Mother used up most of her potions treating the ill while Father took care of their properties. Many of the villagers owe their lives and livelihood to the care they received from my parents.”
 
“They sound like good people,” Blake whispered quietly against her ear, not wanting her to stop. He’d seen enough of her nightmare to guess some of what happened but she needed to tell it in her own way.
 
“Yes,” Jannasilane replied proudly, “they were.” She smiled a little, dwelling on happier memories for a time. “I told you our village was too small for a Chantry of its own. The Chantry in a neighboring village was the only one for miles. I was taught to believe in the Maker, but we were not regular Chantry-goers. Sometimes we went, but we had to take care of our farm and my parents did not believe in all the Chantry’s teachings. I think mostly we went just to be with our neighbors and others. Usually people brought a lunch and everybody would gather together afterwards and relax. It was like a picnic. There were many who did not go regularly because of the distance involved. Sometimes a Revered Mother was at the Chantry but frequently there was only a Revered Sister and a Brother. Unfortunately, during the winter Brother Trey and Sister Alicia fell ill. By the time somebody was able to make their way through the snow to my mother it was too late. All that could be done was to prepare them for burial and send word to Lothering since it was the nearest Chantry outside our villages.”
 
“Brother Trey and Sister Alicia were gentle folk and well loved. They respected my parents’ abilities and willingness to help others.” Blake could feel the sneer on her face with her next words, “Sister Faline and Brother Morris were not. She saw her appointment as beneath her capabilities and she resented the influence my parents had. Sister began to discredit my parents. Oh, she was very subtle and never mentioned them by name. It was always, ‘such a shame people don’t realize how important it is to come to the Chantry more often,’ ‘we should give thanks to the Maker so many survived last winter even though Brother Trey and Sister Alicia did not,’ and even ‘I thought only witches outside the laws of the  Chantry could be so skilled with herbs.’ ****. Even though she laughed when she said the last, she was deadly serious. Her efforts would probably have come to nothing without the assistance of Brother Morris. I don’t know where the Chantry found him, but somebody made a mistake. There was nothing Brotherly about him. He was a mean-minded man yet he was able to influence a lot of people. Somehow he hid his true nature and many liked and respected him.”
 
She shook her head in disbelief. “Mor-r-is-s-s,” she hissed, “saw my mother and wanted her. He didn’t care if she broke her marriage vows or he his to the Chantry. He decided he loved her and should have her, that he deserved her. She kept refusing him, politely at first, but he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I was there when he grabbed her and demanded she submit to him. She hit him and he grew very still. I saw his eyes narrow and got my daggers ready. I don’t know what would have happened if Father didn’t come in at that moment. He grabbed Brother Morris’s arm and hustled him away, telling him he shouldn’t return and maybe should think of requesting a transfer. Morris was furious and instead began telling people he felt an unholy influence causing him to desire my mother. The Sister began preaching about the dangers of magic and the evil of witches, that it was the duty of the faithful to root out such evil and how evil could use good works to disguise its true nature.” She stopped speaking as she brooded.
               
“Of course we didn’t know this right away. My parents didn’t want to embarrass the man and had said nothing of his earlier behavior. One of the women my mother saved last winter warned them that Morris and Faline were creating ill will towards us. That week they went to the Chantry without me for the first time. They were so upset when they returned home. We decided to leave for Denerim earlier than planned and in secrecy. My father, when he built our home, built an underground escape that would take us out to the woods. It was supposed to be in case of something like fire. Nobody could find it even if they were looking and it could only be opened from inside the house. He connected it to an underground cave which opened in the forest behind some rocks.” She fell silent again while Blake just held her and stroked her back and hair.
 
“I knew they were demons in the Fade and not really my parents or the others. I prefer fighting darkspawn. All this demon/blood mage . . . my skin recoils from the air. They tried to get into my mind, ugh,” she shivered. The night was warm and yet she felt chilled. If Blake weren’t holding her surely her teeth would be chattering. Reluctantly she continued, seeing the events play out once more.
 
“We need to leave, Jerad.” Jannasilane had never seen her mother so agitated. “I wish now . . .” she didn’t finish whatever she was thinking. Instead Alessandra began gathering a few items from around their home, those she considered most important to save. Her father was grim. He didn’t disagree and went to the barn to prepare the animals for their absence. Jannasilane silently joined him; there was much to do.
 
Finally he turned to her, “You’re a good girl, Jannasilane Alenahaella. I want you to know how proud I am of you and how very much I love you.” He seemed to be debating something with himself and finally motioned to the bench. “Sit down, Janna. We need to leave. Your mother is right about that. That Brother and Sister,” he spat out the words, “have worked their poison very well. I’m worried that he might try something. We can’t let anything get in the way of leaving for Denerim and meeting Duncan. I think you know how important that is. I want you to study the maps until you can find your way across Ferelden blindfolded in case we’re separated.”
 
“You’re scaring me, Father,” Jannasilane turned wide frightened eyes on the only father she’d ever known.
 
Jerad gently patted her hand and smiled sadly, “I know, my girl. You’ve never experienced the prejudice of some of your ancestors, for which I thank the Maker. Sometimes good people can be persuaded or coerced to do horrible things under the right conditions. Brother Morris has been working with Sister Faline to create those conditions. They’ve been convincing some of those from surrounding villages that your mother is a witch and a blood mage. I think he could convince them to do something violent in time. If we leave, things should blow over and maybe we can return. We’ve taught you how to survive in the forest and how to fight with daggers and bow, though I hope it never comes to that.”
 
They were very busy but by the end of the second day they had done all they could. They finished dinner and were spending their last evening around the fire. Alessandra was working on her daughter’s dress for Denerim and Jerad was getting small packs ready to lower into the tunnel. “This color will look beautiful on you, Janna. I should be able to finish it before we reach Denerim,” she said, looking fondly at her only child. “You are such a lovely girl; it will be nice when you don’t have to wear a dress that’s too small for you. You’ve grown up so fast. It seems like only last week you were crawling along the floor.”
 
Jannasilane couldn’t help laughing, “It was. I dropped the basket of herbs and had to pick them up. It was amazing how far they spread.” Her parents chuckled along with her. Soon they fell silent, the seriousness of their situation once again to the fore of their thoughts.
 
“Come, Janna, I’m going to lower you into the tunnel so I can lower the packs to you. Then in the morning we can leave straight away.” While she and her father were busy Alessandra started to prepare some tea. She looked out the window, she would be sorry to leave their home but she wasn’t going to chance any harm coming to Jannasilane because of a nasty man. Too much was at stake.
 
“What is . . .” she looked closely at a light flickering in the woods. It was a torch, no, torches. Quickly she went to Jerad where he was handing packs to Jannasilane. “Jerad, people are coming.”
 
In one fast move he shoved the rest of the packs into the tunnel, “Janna, take the most important and start moving, we don’t have time to come down with you and close the entrance. Maybe it’s nothing but just in case . . . if it’s safe we’ll meet you in the back of the cave in an hour. Don’t wait any longer. Find the Wardens. We love you,” he didn’t wait for an answer before he fitted the cover over the tunnel. It took a few minutes for Jannasilane to sort through the packs in the dark. She didn’t dare light a torch. She could faintly hear somebody knocking at their door and then footsteps. She strained to hear what was happening, she heard a thud and her mother crying out her father’s name shortly followed by screams. Tears fell down her face as she heard Brother Morris shouting and realized what they were doing.”
 
She began crying harder, “He was raping her. They must have only knocked my father unconscious, because it wasn’t long before he started shouting at them, cursing them. Some of them were people he and my mother helped. There was nothing I could do, I couldn’t go back. Then the ‘good Brother’ ordered them to burn the house down. My parents were still alive; their screams followed me down the tunnel. I did circle back. If those people were gone I was going to try and rescue my parents but it was too late. I saw somebody watching from the edge of the woods. It was Sister Faline watching and gloating, vicious cow,” her hands were clapped over her ears in unconscious mimicry of her actions that night and then she completely broke down. Blake just held her tight while she sobbed. Together they grieved for their respective families.
 
They never noticed Alistair watching them. He’d gotten worried when they were gone for so long and followed them. When he found them he stood watching for a few minutes and turned away when he heard sobbing. He didn’t want to intrude on their privacy. He made a few arrangements and continued keeping watch.
 
Blake was holding Jannasilane protectively in his arms. Her sobs had finally stopped except for the occasional hiccup and sniffle. “I did a terrible thing,” she finally whispered.
 
“What did you do that was so terrible?” he asked quietly. He kept holding her and stroking her for comfort, though he wasn’t sure if it was for hers or his.
 
“I was so angry at them. I, um, I burned down their Chantry. It was wrong but I wanted to make them pay, somehow.”
 
Blake didn’t say anything at first. He cleared his throat, “Was anybody inside?”
 
“Of course not!” Jannasilane said indignantly. “I had to pass it after I left home. I knew I was ahead of them. They always locked up the Chantry so nobody could get in without permission, they didn’t want anybody taking shelter from a storm without tithing,” she curled her lip in contempt. She sighed, “When I saw the Chantry, locked up waiting for their return I was so angry. How dare they have a place to come home to after what they did?! Before I knew it I was shooting an arrow of fire through the window. It went right over her desk. I saw flames flickering and building inside. Then I ran away,” She stopped speaking and sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
 
He grabbed her chin and gently but firmly tilted her head so she had to meet his gaze, “Do you regret it? Did it make you feel better? Will you do something like that again?” He kept hold of her while she answered.
 
Her face was blotchy and tear-stained, her voice hoarse. “I wish I hadn’t done it. It’s going to hurt the villagers more than anything else. It was stupid and selfish and reckless, and my parents wouldn’t have been pleased. I’ll understand if you don’t want me around anymore.”
 
“Oh, Package, Package you do have a temper.” He kissed her on the forehead and felt her relax slightly. “You were mad with pain and grief and maybe burned down an empty building. If Duncan weren’t with me . . .” He shrugged, “I’m not going to say anything. Maker knows I’ve made my share of mistakes. However you can't lose control like that again.” He looked at her quizzically, “Is that why you didn’t like Leliana at first? Because of her association with the Chantry?”
 
“Maybe,” Jannasilane shrugged.
 
Blake stood and helped her up. Holding hands they returned to camp feeling exhausted but lighter. Alistair intercepted them, “You don’t need to stand watch tonight. I’ve arranged everything. Are you both alright?” he glanced at Blake but most of his attention was on Jannasilane. It hurt him to see the evidence of her tears but he didn’t say anything else. She gave him a tired smile and hugged him before going into their tent. Blake was sincere in his gratitude and followed her inside. When Alistair joined them at the end of his watch, Jannasilane was snuggled in Blake’s embrace. Even in sleep he was protecting her. Alistair lay down and smiled to himself when she reached out to thread her fingers through his.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 14: Levi’s Story
 
Blake was up early the next morning. He watched the sun rise from the shore of Lake Calenhad and reflected on how much better he felt after his talk with Package the night before. He hoped she felt better as well. “Burning down the Chantry, naughty girl,” he thought, smirking to himself. He probably should be more outraged but under the circumstances it was hard to fault her too much. She was still so young. She had time to moderate that temper.
 
Jannasilane was brushing her hair, thinking about the previous night. She felt a lot closer to Blake than she had before. She looked at the still sleeping templar, “he’s still not my Ali, though,” she thought and smiled at the sleeping man. She put down her brush and moved closer to Alistair. She sighed sleepily and lay back down, pillowing her head on Alistair’s chest. Automatically his arms wrapped around her, making her feel safe.
 
When Alistair woke a short time later he yawned and smiled at the woman in his arms, “Feeling better?”
 
“Yes, thank you,” she replied. “In fact,” she slid so she was completely on top of him, “I’m feeling wonderful.” She began peppering his chest with kisses. She was ready to put Leliana’s advice into action.
 
Slow heat filled his gaze, “Well then, if you’re sure, let’s see if we can do better than last time,” and he hauled her up so he could kiss her properly. “A perfect way to start the day,” he muttered against her breasts. She giggled and then gasped when he slid his hands under her shirt to grab her rear. Faint sounds of laughter drifted towards the shore.
 
Blake was still standing by the lake when Leliana found him, “Blake, I’ve been looking for you. While you were busy at the Circle a merchant showed up asking for you. His name is Levi Dryden, do you know him? He’s waiting at the bar. He said he wanted to talk about Duncan.”
 
He glanced at their tent. Not seeing any movement he decided to talk to this merchant, “I have some time to spare; I’ll go see what he wants. I’ll scrounge up some coffee first. Thanks, Leliana.” He wandered in the direction of the Spoiled Princess, wary of some stranger looking for Wardens. Then again, Leliana was pretty shrewd if possibly crazy. She likely would have sussed out whether this was another spy or bounty hunter. A man was sitting at a table near the bar drinking some coffee. “He looks harmless enough, and he’s the only stranger in here.” He spoke to the proprietor who offered him coffee and a simple breakfast. Deciding breakfast at a proper table was a rare luxury now they were on the road and more or less on the run he decided to take advantage of the offer. His manner was deceptively casual as he strolled over to the stranger, “mind if I sit down?”
 
“Warden, it’s an honor,” the man quickly shook hands. “Levi Dryden at your service, I have to say you’re a hard man to find. I was a friend of Duncan’s; did he ever mention me, perhaps? Me and my family helped bring the Wardens back to Ferelden under good King Maric.”
 
Blake looked at the man thoughtfully while the innkeeper brought him his breakfast. He nodded his thanks but didn’t say anything until it was just the two of them again. “Thank you for your part in that, I think I remember hearing my father say something about Maric and the Grey Wardens but I don’t recall any of the details. I hope you don’t mind me eating, it’s quite a treat these days to have eggs for breakfast.” Levi indicated he didn’t mind at all. After several moments of concentrating on his breakfast Blake spoke again, “Duncan never mentioned you, but I joined the Wardens after they were already called to Ostagar. I didn’t know him for very long.”
 
Running footsteps and giggles entered the Spoiled Princess as Jannasilane and Alistair raced inside. “I won,” she declared and stopped short when she saw Blake sitting with a stranger. She flushed and then nearly fell over when Alistair ran into her. Only his quick movements kept her from falling. Alistair saw Blake then, quietly laughing at them. Alistair just grinned in return and looked curiously at his companion.
 
Blake waved them over, “Package, Alistair, meet Levi Dryden. Merchant and friend of Duncan’s who has been searching for us, and not even to kill us. Levi, meet my fellow Grey Warden, Alistair and one of our traveling companions, Jannasilane Alenahaella. Take advantage of some non-Alistair cooking while Levi tells us why he was looking for us.”
 
“I think Duncan spoke about you a couple of times, he said a friend of his was a merchant he met when he first came to Ferelden. Pleased to meet you,” Alistair said politely though he wasn’t sure he liked the way Levi was looking at Jannasilane.
 
“Alenahaella?” Levi frowned thoughtfully, “I met a woman almost twenty years ago, a friend of Duncan’s actually; Alessandra Alenahaella was her name. I remembered thinking what an unusual name it was and that it sounded rather musical. Lovely woman, is she a relation by any chance?”
 
“She was my mother,” Jannasilane replied softly. “You were a friend of m-Duncan’s?”
 
“Well, we were of an age and when the Grey Wardens came back to Ferelden we struck up a friendship. We were both a bit of a scamp back then, two young men in Denerim, and kept in touch as we could,” Alistair relaxed during the exchange once he realized Levi’s interest was not personal. Blake explained that Levi had been looking for them.
 
Alistair quirked an eyebrow, “And you said it wasn’t to kill us? That is a refreshing change,” he said drily.
 
Once again conversation stopped when the innkeeper came with the additional breakfasts. Blake eyed her plate with amusement; there was almost as much food as on Alistair’s, “Work up an appetite, Package? Apparently some things improve with practice,” he commented sotto voce. She tried to stare at him with regal disdain but she was blushing too much to pull it off. Alistair decided he was better off not knowing what Blake had said to her and concentrated on breakfast and listening to Dryden.
 
“ . . . Duncan was going to help me at Soldier’s Peak. My great-great-grandmother was Warden-Commander and I was hoping to clear her name. He thought there might be information or artifacts valuable to the Wardens still there but then darkspawn showed up down south and he got busy with recruiting and organizing the Grey Wardens at Ostagar, Maker bless King Cailan,” Levi finished. “So, will you help us, Warden? I’m not a fighting man and there’s no saying what we’ll find.”
 
Blake looked at him, “Let me think about it. Package, Levi’s a merchant, why don’t you introduce him to Bodahn and Leliana and maybe see about our supplies while we finish.”
 
“Thanks, Warden,” the man replied. He offered his arm to Jannasilane when she rose and they left the inn.
 
Once they were out of earshot Alistair turned to Blake, “You’re thinking of going to Soldier’s Peak, aren’t you?
 
“Yes.” Blake didn’t elaborate; he wanted to give the other man a chance to voice his opinion first.
 
“Good. I think we should go as soon as possible,” Alistair’s answer surprised Blake.
 
Blake was curious, “I thought you wanted to get to Redcliffe?”
 
Alistair was serious when he answered, “I do, but Redcliffe will be there tomorrow. Even Loghain will have trouble with the Bannorn if he tries to march an army against Redcliffe. If there’s any useful information in the old Warden stronghold I want us to get it before he remembers such a place exists. Who knows how much we lost from Denerim which might help us now? I haven’t been a Grey Warden long enough to pretend to know everything. That’s Morrigan’s job,” he muttered as the witch made her appearance.
 
“Warden,” Morrigan’s voice was strident as she marched over to their table, “there is some middle-aged man with your little friend and you and Alistair are wasting the morning away in order to stuff your faces. Do you plan on leaving at all today?” The disdain was once again in her voice when she mentioned Jannasilane and Alistair.
 
“We’ll leave when I say we leave,” Blake said coolly. He hated the way Morrigan disparaged any of the people they traveled with but especially his friends. “If you don’t like the way I am doing things you are more than welcome to return to the welcoming bosom of your mother. You two have such a loving relationship I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.” His sarcastic tone and hard gaze made Morrigan flush but she said nothing else, simply sneered and flounced away. “Have I ever mentioned how grateful I am that you’re a templar?”
 
“Good thing I don’t have much of a temper or I’d be spending all my energy trying not to smite her.”
 
Blake grinned then, “I dunno, you seem to heat up pretty quick when Package is around and I’ll bet you did some ‘smiting’ this morning.” He laughed when Alistair just groaned.
 
Alistair smiled a little remembering their morning activities. Jannasilane was lying on top of him, her hands propping her head as she looked down at him. She was smiling at him, smoky green sparks in her eyes, “That was a lot more fun than last time, my Ali. Leliana was right.” She wouldn’t tell him anymore no matter how much he tickled her. They were finally getting ready to leave the tent when she got serious, “Alistair, I wish to speak to you about my parents. I wasn’t ready to talk before last night . . .” He listened and assured her he wasn’t mad at her and was glad she trusted him enough to talk about something so personal. Maybe it was perverse of him but he rather liked her temper, though she should probably learn some control.
 
“Much as I hate to even seem to be acting as she wants me to, Morrigan is right. We need to get going. By my calculations it will take two weeks or more to get there. I have a hunch it won’t be easy.”
 
Alistair stopped Blake before he could leave, “Before we go I’m glad you talked to Jannasilane last night. I knew something was bothering her after our unplanned venture into the Fade. She was able to talk about her parents this morning. They seem like good people who didn’t deserve what happened, not that anybody can be said to deserve being raped and burned alive.” He shook his head in disgust, “the Chantry tries to weed out people like Brother Morris but it’s inevitable that some slither through.”
 
“Why inevitable?” Blake cocked his head.
 
“Not all are in the Chantry willingly, you know. It’s easier for them to vet people who say they feel a calling to serve Andraste or even those who choose a career in the Chantry because it suits them. That’s why many Brothers and Sisters are scholars or clerks. But any orphans raised by the Chantry, or other children like me who are brought there, have almost no chance of avoiding a life as a Brother, Sister or Templar. Duncan had to conscript me, after all. Otherwise you’d probably have to do something pretty heinous in order to be kicked out. They don’t want to let people go after all the time and effort they’ve put into their training and education.” Alistair frowned, “I’m glad nobody saw her burn the Chantry. Hopefully it’ll be put down to a darkspawn attack. She was wrong, but for all their views on charity I doubt they would pay any attention to her age or that she was mad with grief and anger.”
 
Blake agreed and the two men headed out to notify the others they were going to Soldier’s Peak. Since Levi wasn’t much of a fighter and as a merchant could travel the roads freely he would meet them near the base of the mountain.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 15: Snow Play
 
Zevran was not thrilled when he observed the new closeness between Blake and Jannasilane. What puzzled him was that Alistair actually seemed happy about the situation. “The templar does not seem to be very open-minded when it comes to matters of romance or sex, yet still he willingly shares a tent with his fellow Grey Warden. Do both of them now have a connection with the pocket goddess? This is . . . unexpected . . . and intriguing. How does this affect me, I wonder?” His mind whirled with plots and possibilities.
 
Morrigan was not pleased either. Her eyes narrowed, “That little **** is going to get in my way, somehow. I can feel it.” She looked over at the assassin and realized he was assessing the new situation. “He’s planning on interfering somehow. Maybe I don’t have to do anything; I’ll just wait and see. There’s time yet.”
 
The next few days were relatively uneventful or as uneventful as a day fighting random thugs and small groups of darkspawn could possibly be. The days they didn’t meet anyone or anything they had to fight were rare. The closer they got to Soldier’s Peak the colder the temperature. Snow flurries sometimes added variety. “I love the snow,” Jannasilane exclaimed when they woke up one morning to a thick blanket of fluffy white snow. She bounced away from a grouchy Alistair after calling him ‘Mr. Grumpypants;’ his plans for the morning did not include a romp through the cold stuff. Blake watched her with indulgent amusement as she deliberately fell backwards into a mound of unbroken snow and began waving her arms and legs. Carefully she eased herself up and jumped away before turning around to view her creation, “Ha, a perfect snow fairy. I used to try and create a chain of them when I was little,” she said to anyone who was listening as she shook the snow out of her hair.
 
Blake couldn’t help laughing, “Package, you’re still little.” He said before he ducked inside their tent to move Alistair along.
 
“Why? What purpose is served by such an activity?” Sten asked. “Does it make you stronger?”
 
“It’s for fun, Sten, no other reason. Don’t Qunari ever have fun? What do your children do?”
 
“We have revelries when it is permitted. Our children do not spend time in frivolous pursuits; they are raised by and study under the Tamassrans who evaluate them and at the proper time assign them their role or duty. To do otherwise is a waste. We do not value waste.” Sten explained at more length than usual, possibly he may have been goaded by the look of sympathy on her face.
 
“I bet you never did this, either,” and she bent down to fashion a snowball. He eyed her curiously when she stood, watching her tent and waiting. Blake came out and she did nothing. Alistair came out and she let loose. It hit him square in the face and he started to sputter. “Oops, sorry,” she called out insincerely, trying not to laugh at his look of indignation. He glared at her, his expression promising retribution, but he turned towards breakfast. A Warden had priorities after all.
 
Sten had moved back a little. He fashioned a snowball of his own and when Jannasilane turned around he hit her in the face with it. “Oops, sorry,” he said, his expression deadpan. “That is the correct form of address in the situation is it not?” and he turned and walked away. Jannasilane’s look of comical surprise gave way to appreciation and she laughed merrily before bounding over to Alistair and giving him a cold and exuberant kiss.
 
Alistair grumbled at her, “Mr. Grumpypants? You weren’t calling me that a few hours ago. I don’t like snow when we’re traveling, I admit it. It slows us down. And now I’m cold and wet. But I am not grumpy,” he insisted. His arm was around her waist in a loose embrace, his hand on her hip. Unconsciously he traced circles against her with his thumb, “my idea of fun in the snow is not to be traveling and have a warm room with a roaring fire ready to return to. Maybe some hot spiced wine or rum to drink and a pretty girl to kiss. Know where I can find one?” he teased.
 
She looked up at him sideways through her lashes and snickered, “That sounds nice, except I would prefer a handsome man.” He smiled and took a minute to admire the way the snow crystals decorated her hair like miniature diamonds before they melted. Sighing he turned his focus to taking down their tent. It was going to be a long day. He looked suspiciously at Zevran when the elf began helping him. At least Jannasilane was helping Bodahn and Sandal tie things down on their cart and she couldn’t listen to his overtures. “What do you want, Zevran?” he asked brusquely.
 
“I am simply offering my assistance, oh mighty templar,” Zevran answered lightheartedly. “In this cold weather it occurred to me that perhaps your fingers were moving more slowly than normal. Your pocket goddess does not seem to feel the cold as do the rest of us mortals. She is truly a delightful sight decorated with lace of snow, is she not? I would think with your recent exertions you would be in a better mood.”
 
“My exertions? What do . . . oh,” Alistair’s voice trailed off into a low mutter.
 
“I did wonder if perhaps your performance was affected by the cold. It seemed you were just getting started when all became silent. I have some herbs from Antiva which, if you chew them, can prolong your . . . exercise session. And if you arch your back -”
 
“Enough!” Alistair declared, thoroughly embarrassed. “We are not talking about this, go bother Blake or Morrigan or somebody,” he growled.
 
“Tsk, tsk, you Fereldens. How will you know how to pleasure each other if you do not talk to each other,” he shook his head in mock horror before dancing through the snow to join the Warden.
 
“Zevran, I see you have been spreading cheer to our good friend, Alistair,” Blake greeted him. “Although he doesn’t look thrilled.” Blake grinned at Zevran, the cold air brought a blush to the Antivan’s cheeks that he found quite attractive and made him think of other ways to bring out a flush on the other man’s cheeks, both sets. He also noticed the thick vest he was wearing over his leather armor. “How are you faring, Zev, Ferelden is much colder than Antiva. I don’t recall any place in Antiva cold enough for snow.”
 
“Tis true that I am unaccustomed to the cold. Alone in my tent I imagine the hot sun of Antiva, a lover’s embrace as we lay on the warm sand. Of course if you were to join me, my dear Warden, we could surely keep warm together,” he purred suggestively. He was rewarded with a wicked smile and flame lighting in Blake’s eyes. That flame promised a lot of heat if the Warden would only act. He moved closer to Blake, pleased with the progress he was making. A disruption on the other side of camp caught their attention. “The pocket goddess seems to have embraced the snow,” Zevran commented upon seeing Jannasilane covered in snow which had fallen from the branch above her.
 
“Funny how only one branch seems to be empty of snow, and emptied itself right when Package was standing underneath,” Blake commented with an amused expression. He nudged Zevran and pointed to Alistair. The templar had a pleased expression on his face which he tried to remove when he looked at Jannasilane. “Looks like Alistair got his payback,” Blake murmured.
 
“Oh? Payback for what, my mighty Warden?” Zevran asked. “She looks quite attractive covered in snow; she would look even more attractive if snow was her only covering.”
 
Blake looked sideways at Zevran and smiled at the image of Package dressed only in snow, “True, she wouldn’t just be your pocket goddess she would be your pocket snow goddess. You should have seen Alistair’s face when she pelted him with a snowball earlier. He came out of the tent and wham! a face full of snow,” he chuckled at the memory. He kept his eyes on Package. He grinned when she shook the snow off of her, rather like General Lee shook himself after getting wet.
 
Zevran misinterpreted his expression as one of lust. He looked again at the pocket goddess and couldn’t blame the Warden. He easily imagined her nipples were standing erect from the cold and her skin had a rosy hue. He daydreamed for a moment of the two of them in his tent while he took his time warming her, causing her to shiver from something other than cold. He added the Warden to the other side of her, the two of them exchanging kisses over her magnificent bosom between sucking on her nipples and fondling her. He sighed, the Warden might be willing but he suspected she was not. Somehow he had to break or redirect the attraction the Warden felt for the pocket goddess. He could try seducing her himself, remembering how she seemed to enjoy his ‘medicinal’ kiss at the Circle he thought seducing her was not out of question. He could also help cement the relationship between Alistair and her. Blake had integrity and he wouldn’t trespass on a friend or comrade. He would have to be subtle, the templar didn’t trust him. He mulled over various plans as they continued on their way to Soldier’s Peak.
 
He had an opportunity later that day when Jannasilane joined him on the trail. “You look quite flushed, my little pocket goddess. Perhaps you should let your templar warm you after your bout in the snow. You have the most delightful bumps of geese on your golden flesh,” and he trailed his fingers along her arm, tracing the line of goose bumps and causing her to shiver.
 
Jannasilane blushed prettily, “You saw that? Alistair is more devious than I thought. I’ll have to remember that.” She thought about his warming her and blushed down to her toes. Remembering other things the Antivan said to her caused her to turn bright red and look away from him. The last several days with Alistair gave her a better understanding of what he meant. Inwardly she cringed as she recalled some of her replies.
 
“What causes you to turn to flame, not that it doesn’t look quite attractive?” Zevran asked curiously.
 
She blurted out, “N-nothing,” and scurried away until she recovered her composure. Zevran raised an eyebrow and stared after her.
 
Alistair came up to him, “What did you say to her?” he demanded.
 
Zevran looked at him in all innocence, “I thought she looked cold and suggested you could warm her. Wrap your arms around her, perhaps. Did I do something wrong?” Alistair might have growled but left him to go to Jannasilane. Zevran smiled to himself when he saw the two of them holding hands.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 16: Surprises at Soldier's Peak
 
They met Levi a few days later. He led the way through forgotten trails and tunnels; the going was steep and the ground uneven. After some wrong turns they finally reached broken steps leading to Soldier’s Peak. The fortress was visible from where they stood, but still some distance away. Levi turned towards Blake, “See Warden? I told you I would get you here. Isn’t she something?”
 
“Looks like it’s seen better days, better centuries even,” Alistair quipped though in truth he was a bit awed.
 
“To think how the Grey Wardens once flourished and people were waiting to join their ranks. Now they even accept such as you, Alistair,” Morrigan couldn’t help snidely remarking. With some effort he ignored her except for a disgruntled huff.
 
Blake looked at the towers standing battered and proud against the wintry sky, “She’s impressive, that’s for sure.” He raised an eyebrow at the merchant, “How did you find this place? Admit it; you were lost at least once coming through those tunnels.”
 
Levi stuttered and then flushed uncomfortably, “You wouldn’t believe me, but the path came to me in my dreams. They began when I was a boy. I began piecing them together until I had a complete map and eventually talked to Duncan about it. I reckon he knew enough to realize I had something.”
 
Jannasilane was a few steps away, looking up at the fortress and rubbing her arms. She shivered. Wynne joined her, “Child, I knew you must be cold. I’m quite cold looking at you. There must be something we can do for you.”
 
She looked up at the woman and shook her head. “I’m not cold. Soldier’s Peak, there’s something . . . I don’t know. I just know it makes my skin tingle even from here.”
 
“Well, your instincts certainly helped us at the Circle. We would have had much more trouble without you and Alistair, you work well together.” Wynne was troubled by the relationship developing between the young woman and the two Wardens but decided not to say anything just yet. Now was certainly not the time. She tried to feel ahead, and got a sense of something not right but nothing specific. She suspected the Veil was thin and if that was the case they would all know soon enough. 
 
Alistair joined them, “Shall we go reclaim a fortress, ladies?” He looked down at her and frowned, “What’s wrong?”
 
Jannasilane didn’t look at him, she kept her attention focused on what lay before them, “I do not know, Ali, I know only that I tingle all over.”
 
The templar bit his lip and briefly closed his eyes, “Maker help me, is it her choice of words or my own dirty mind that takes what she says and puts a sexual twist on it? Maybe I’ve been spending too much time listening to that smarmy Antivan.” Fortunately for him Jannasilane thought he was trying to get a sense of what might be waiting for them. Blake and Zevran were behind them; they exchanged glances and grinned. On this they were of one mind and it had nothing to do with the Veil or demons. Alistair cleared his throat and answered her, his voice gruff, “Well, we’ll take special care just as we did at the Circle. I’ll tell Morrigan.” He figured talking to the nasty b-witch would be as good as a cold shower.
 
At the end of the day they regrouped in the courtyard. It was cold but refreshing after all the demons they found inside. Alistair and Jannasilane approached Blake where he was talking to Levi. “I’m sorry we didn’t find anything you could use to clear your name, Levi. You’re a good man, perhaps it’s time to look to the future instead of the past.”
 
“That Avernus deserves the gallows, if you ask me,” Levi replied. “But I suppose people will do queer things to survive. I’ve been thinking, Warden, that now you’ve cleared out all the demons this might be a good base for my family. It’ll be a safe place to store our merchandise and we could provide you with goods at a discount. My brother Mikhael is one of the finest blacksmiths you’ll ever find. We can act as caretakers and have Soldier’s Peak ready for you whenever you decide to move in. There’s lots of room.”
 
“I’ll make sure Avernus leaves you alone. At least he’s agreed to continue his research without the blood magic. I’m not sure which was more surprising, finding Sophia possessed by a demon or the old mage still alive and working,” Blake shook his head in disbelief. “It’d be nice to see the Peak ready for business. The Wardens will need a place of our own.”
 
Alistair quipped, “Demons abolished, a Grey Warden base reclaimed, we do good work.” Blake rolled his eyes at Alistair’s choice of words but didn’t disagree. “I’m glad you’re staying on, Levi. If you’ll excuse us . . . Blake, I think the three of us should take another look inside. Jannasilane wants me to do some cleansing and we still need to take a look at the library as well as the study, see if there’s any useful information.” Alistair could have added, “and find out what’s bothering Janna. She’s unusually edgy.” The three of them left.
 
Blake told the others to go ahead and set up camp as they passed them to enter the Peak. “With your ability to sense magic I’m surprised the templars haven’t swooped down and taken you away. I’m sure they would find you quite useful,” Morrigan snarled.
 
“They wouldn’t do that, would they, Ali?” she looked at Alistair with a touch of fear darkening her eyes once they were out of earshot.
 
“Damn that Morrigan, it wouldn’t happen in Ferelden but other places, other groups. . .” Alistair thought to himself before he answered. He tried to be as reassuring as possible, “They don’t even have the authority to take anybody just because they might be useful. I have heard that some places are harsher against mages and more zealous in their pursuit of apostates but I doubt they would kidnap you. They already assume that apostates are maleficarum unless proven otherwise and they wouldn’t take your word on the subject. Morrigan just wanted to make trouble. Again.” He snorted in disgust. He wished there were some way to put a muzzle on that vicious mouth. 
 
Jannasilane looked at him thoughtfully, “What you do not say is that perhaps others would.” She frowned and then shrugged. That possibility seemed too remote for her to worry about. Once they were in the library they began sorting through the various books. Alistair built up a fire so they could be comfortable and Jannasilane began moving some furniture around. Blake kept an eye on her while he started flipping through the old books. Alistair was also watching her in concern.
 
When she locked the door and began moving some chairs even closer to the fire and away from any doors and windows he finally stopped her. He put his hands on her shoulders and physically restrained her from moving, “Package, you’re as nervous as a cat walking over hot coals. Morrigan was just trying to annoy you,” he looked into her eyes trying to gauge her mood.
 
“Do you remember the Litany of Adralla?” Nothing she said could have surprised the two men more. “I do not trust this Avernus. There is something I must tell you but it is not something which I wish to become known to all. If you will continue to repeat the Litany and Alistair, if you will keep a constant cleansing I will explain. That should be enough to prevent Morrigan or Avernus from overhearing.”
 
“Janna, you’re scaring me. If it will make you feel more comfortable I will do a cleansing as often as possible,” Alistair tried to calm her but he was now almost as nervous as she was. Blake was frowning as he made her sit down. He and Alistair sat in front of her and waited.
 
She took some time opening her back and pulling out an old journal, smoothing the cover and gathering her thoughts. Carefully she returned it and curled her legs underneath her and leaned back against the chair.  She took a deep breath before she looked up at them, her eyes full of mystery and caution. “My line has been,” she paused, searching for the right word. “My line has been entwined with the Wardens for generations.” She tilted her head so her hair half hid her face. “What do you know about the fate of the griffons?”
 
The crackling of the flames was the only sound in the library.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 17: Alenahaella Moritanae
 
“Alenahaella Moritanae.” Her voice sounded softly after some moments, barely heard over the fire. “Alenahaella Moritanae, those who ride the wind, whose voices spell doom to the blighted wretches. Griffonsong for short.” Alistair had the fanciful thought that he could see threads of mystery, myth and history weaving around her. “The sound of their wings as they flew through the air brought hope to the hearts of men while their battle cry brought even ogres to their knees. There are no records showing where they came from, but then that was long before Weisshaupt Fortress. They were independent, intelligent creatures dedicated to fighting the darkspawn and this shared purpose formed a strong bond between them and the Grey Wardens. Over the years the griffons became established in the Anderfels above the fortress of the Wardens and thrived.”
 
“Alenahaella, that’s your family name,” Alistair interjected.
 
Blake was intrigued, “So what happened to them?”
 
“The Wardens did not have access to the aeries. The sides of the mountains were steep and reached high, too high for men to breathe in comfort or for long. The range was wide and deep. They were safe from predators and other enemies for centuries. Towards the end of the last Blight the Wardens noticed that some days a griffon appeared to be missing. This pattern continued even after the Archdemon was defeated. Some Wardens were flown to the empty aerie. There was a slight smell of darkspawn and an indication that the rear wall of the cave had been recently breached and blocked.” Jannasilane watched them quietly. So far they seemed accepting of what she was telling them.
 
Blake and Alistair looked at each other then back at her. “Why didn’t the Wardens sense the darkspawn?”
 
“Just because the aeries were above Weisshaupt doesn’t mean they were close. What they finally determined was that the darkspawn had tunneled up from below or the other side of the mountains at the behest of the Archdemon. Darkspawn are capable of being singularly focused during a Blight when under the control of an Archdemon, as you know. What puzzled the Wardens investigating the disappearances was that they continued long after the darkspawn should have been gone.”
 
“Did they ever figure it out?”
 
“The best explanation they had was that one of the more intelligent darkspawn, a general, was in charge. That and being close enough to sense one of their sworn enemies was enough to keep them working.”
 
Alistair was already shaking his head, “No, from what I know and have seen, what the other Wardens told me, that is just not possible. Even if they kept after the griffons they couldn’t have kept up the organization.”
 
“Well, the First Warden did send a group to find where the darkspawn were coming from but that could take months or even years. I do not know if they were successful. And just before Ayesleigh there were rumors of an unusually intelligent emissary, one that could talk, but they were never proved or disproved.”
 
“That would be . . . scary, really scary; scarier than ten Morrigans.” Alistair went on to explain, “They’re bad enough without a Blight, numerous and vicious. During a Blight the Archdemon is able to provide intelligence and a purpose which makes them even tougher and stronger. If a darkspawn were intelligent enough to be able to direct them without an Archdemon I don’t know if the Wardens would be enough . . .” his voice trailed off as he contemplated just how bad that could be.
 
Blake wanted to know what other actions were taken. “At that time there were many mages among the ranks of the Grey Wardens,” Jannasilane stated. “Among them were some blood mages, some shape shifters like Morrigan and others who had extensive knowledge of ancient magic. They formed a plan and took it to the First Warden. He agreed, but insisted it must be kept secret even from the other Wardens. The condition of the griffons was more dire than most knew. The depredations of the darkspawn literally unearthed a rare mushroom which turned out to be toxic to the griffons. Dust filtered down and griffons in lower aeries eventually became ill and this sickness spread. It was very slow but inevitably fatal. Other mages worked openly to find a cure while the small group I mentioned worked secretly in a nearby cave.”
 
“What was their plan?” Alistair asked.
 
Jannasilane looked at him and then Blake before she replied. “They believed the end of the griffons was inevitable. The end of them as they were. The toxin did not affect humans. They hoped to, to combine humans and griffons. If that didn’t work, which it did not, they would come up with a method to transfer the essence of the griffons into select humans which would be inherited through the generations.”
 
The big blond was skeptical, “To what purpose? And why not dwarves or elves? Wouldn’t the griffon have to die in order for this to even be possible?”
 
“Yes, this is why their efforts were kept secret. The other Wardens would not react well to the planned deaths of the beloved griffons by some of their own. Dwarves and elves were not meant to be permanently excluded, but they felt humans were the best candidates. Dwarves have a natural resistance to magic which would have to be overcome and humans seemed to interact better with the griffons, rather like the Dalish with the Halla, so the, ummm, the -”
 
“Why not just call them the Griffon Group?” Alistair suggested.
 
Jannasilane smiled slightly at that, “Yes, the Griffon Group elected to start with humans. More humans than elves or dwarves were among the recruits anyway. They hoped that somehow the traits of the griffon would offset the disadvantages suffered by Wardens if they survived the Joining.” She kind of snickered at their surprised expressions, “Did you really think I would know this much and somehow not know about the Joining?” She quickly sobered and her face was shadowed with sorrow as she looked at them, “Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn, are needed to kill an Archdemon and have greatly increased stamina and ability to heal. I also know the price you pay, the nightmares, a shorter lifespan and an inability to have children. Or at least a greatly decreased possibility of children.”
 
“Is that true, Alistair? Not that I would be likely to have children anyway,” Blake questioned.
 
Alistair slowly nodded his head, “The only Grey Wardens I knew of who had children had them before their Joining. I don’t know of any who had children afterwards, even if it was advisable.”
 
“Did you know griffons could also sense darkspawn? Not like the Wardens can, it was more like a highly developed instinct. A typical griffon lived longer than a healthy human and was able to reproduce quite easily most of its life. They hoped that these traits would pass down to the children, and if they connected with a Warden the chance of a child from the match would be greater. That this child would be able to sense darkspawn as naturally as a griffon, and be a new type of Warden. They wouldn’t know until the next Blight if they could kill the Archdemon but the chance to increase their ranks without all the deaths from failed Joinings was quite attractive.” Remembering the deaths at their own Joinings made it easy for both men to see how tempting that might be.
 
“Did they also hope these people would be able to shape shift into griffons? You said some of the mages were shape shifters and nice as those other traits are I wouldn’t think they’d be enough to justify the experiment,” Blake was thinking about the possible repercussions. Looking at Alistair he wondered if the templar was having similar thoughts.
 
Jannasilane agreed, “That was a hope; that these people, who came to be called the Griffonsong, would be able to shape shift and that their children would either be Griffonsong or, if the other parent was a Warden, a natural Warden. Their first attempts to create the Griffonsong were with those who survived a Joining and were no more than a year into their Wardenship. Griffons and Wardens all died quickly and horribly. Then they turned to those who had yet to Join. Many still died but they were more successful, especially among the mages and the women.” A hint of bitterness entered her voice then, “yes, they were more successful with the women. They did things to encourage a Griffonsong/Warden pairing.” She stopped speaking then. The next part would be the hardest and she needed to give herself a little more time.
 
Once again the crackling of the fire and the dropping of embers were the only sounds in the room. Alistair got up and wandered over to the window, thinking. He did another cleansing while he noted that all their companions were busy outside burning corpses. Blake was watching Package in concern. She’d withdrawn into herself, her head rested on her pulled up knees and her hands gripped each other in front of her legs. Her hair hid her face from his view. She seemed to be protecting herself. When Alistair sat back down he also seemed a bit withdrawn but he was the one who asked the next question, “How did they hope to ‘encourage’ a Griffonsong/Warden pairing?”
 
At first they weren’t sure she was going to answer. “You asked how they could encourage the desired connection. Partly they relied on proximity. It was years, decades even before their first successes. Secreted away as the Griffonsong were their only contact was with others of their kind and Grey Wardens. And the Griffon Group was mostly mages. There existed already a bond between Wardens and griffons formed by their shared purpose. This they could strengthen. They also did something so that Grey Wardens would find a Griffonsong more attractive than normally and that the Griffonsong would generally find Wardens attractive. Perhaps something involving the taint in the Wardens? They were successful in ways they didn’t imagine. They did not tamper with the Warden Joining ritual, so all they could do was make the Griffonsong seem more attractive. If a Warden did not find a particular Griffonsong attractive they still wouldn’t. But if a Warden found green eyes, dark hair and a slender figure attractive that attraction would be enhanced if that person were Griffonsong.” Blake could feel Alistair relaxing a little bit at his side.
 
“The Griffonsong, on the other hand, were, I do not know how to say this; they were imbued with an enhanced inclination to find Grey Wardens s-sexually attractive and to respond to their attentions. All the original Griffonsong were adults between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. All felt an increased desire in the company of the Wardens.” Jannasilane’s toes were curled and her face was redder than the fire from talking about such intimate details.
 
“I wonder if that’s why we don’t have nightmares when we sleep next to you. Is it possible that the magic performed on your ancestors is what makes you more sensitive to certain types of magic today?” Blake asked after several minutes. Alistair stirred next to him and continued staring at Jannasilane but did not speak.
 
“I do not know, perhaps.”
 
Finally Alistair spoke, his expression unreadable in the dim light, “How do you know that these past few weeks hasn’t been the result of this, I dunno, this artificial attraction? And why didn’t you say something before?”
 
Blake looked at Alistair then, he thought about what the other man must be feeling. This conversation was obviously difficult for Package, but it couldn’t be easy for Alistair either. He returned his attention to Package and knelt by her chair so he could see her face. Her pain was clear to him and he stroked her hair, “I’m sorry, Package. This isn’t easy for you and we can talk some more later. I think right now I should leave you two alone. I promise you I will not tell anyone.” He stood and kissed the top of her head before he went to the door. He looked back at his two friends in concern, but there was nothing he could do. What he could do was make sure the tent was set up in case any of them actually felt like sleeping later. 
 
Alistair repeated his questions. She looked at him then and swallowed the lump that rose in her throat, “When we first met I thought how fortunate it was that I met two Grey Wardens who were both handsome and seemed kind. It was only to you that I felt pulled, that I wanted to touch and not because you are a Warden. Blake is my friend, and an attractive man. This is truth. Zevran is an attractive man. This is also truth. But you are the one I wish to be with, to share myself with. It is your touch and your kisses I seek, not theirs. This is all truth, Ali.” She bowed her head then, “I could not tell you before we . . . it just was not possible. I told you as much as I was able. Afterwards, I suppose I wanted to pretend for a few days that I was just a girl like any other. That I was normal. Then I waited until I was sure none would hear. This is not something I wish others to know.”
 
“I can see that,” Alistair said quietly. Too many thoughts and feelings were circling in his mind for him to even begin to know how he felt. He felt numbed and it was with great effort he was able to speak, “So, can you turn into a griffon?” It was the safest thing he could think of to say at the moment.
 
“No. I know of none who have changed and my parents knew of none who changed. I do not know if it will be possible,” she answered him. “I can sense your confusion and distrust, my Ali. I fear what this might mean.” She felt like crying but it wouldn’t help. “Do you wish me to leave, Alistair?” she asked so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
 
“What? No!” That was something he did know. “Look, why don’t you go join Blake and the others. There are a lot of books here to search. I can do that and think about . . . things.” He tried to smile reassuringly but could tell it wasn’t working. Jannasilane didn’t say anything else; she just left him there alone. The minute she shut the door behind her he sat down with a groan and put his head in his hands.
 
Blake found him there hours later. Package had gone into their tent without dinner, saying she was tired. He supposed that was true but not all the truth. He could hear her trying to stifle her tears. Looking at Alistair he wondered if the other man felt like crying. “Anything interesting?” he asked as he looked at the pile of books obviously not examined.
 
“Huh? Oh . . . do you think she was telling the truth?” Alistair wanted to know what Blake thought. Maybe it would help him figure out his own feelings.
 
He sat down, “I admit I was surprised. I mean, a griffon? I can understand why she didn’t tell us from the beginning, neither of us would have believed her then. Package is a woman of more mystery than I expected but she isn’t lying. I don’t know if she told us everything, but that doesn’t make her a liar. Maybe it’s like Leliana’s vision. I believe Leliana believes she had a vision from the Maker. I think Package believes everything she told us and at least some of it might be true. Certainly that’s a reasonable theory for the disappearance of the griffons. The rest, well it explains some things about her but that’s not conclusive. I just don’t know.”
 
“What about the whole s-s-exual a-at-traction thing? You said from the beginning that you found her incredibly sexy. What if what we’ve had, my feelings aren’t really my feelings but some sort of . . . illusion?”
 
“She’s a very sexy woman, Alistair. You can hardly deny that. If you think her sexiness is because of some magic trick just look at Zevran. He’d be all over her faster than General Lee can eat a mabari crunch if she gave him just a hint of interest. She never said that the Warden would have feelings for a Griffonsong, just that any natural attraction would be enhanced. Or is that what you’re really worried about?”
 
Alistair groaned, “What if what she feels for me she really doesn’t?”
 
Blake took a second to decipher Alistair’s question, “I think she knows what she feels better than you know what you feel, my friend. You need to look within yourself and talk to her for those sorts of answers.”
 
“I don’t know. Right now, I just don’t know,” Alistair replied in defeat. There was really nothing else to be said. He started looking at the books and sorting them into two piles. Blake quietly joined him.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 18: Confessions of a Griffonsong
 
When Jannasilane woke up the next morning she was alone in her tent. She’d slept only fitfully and was exhausted. She sighed as she looked at the two empty spaces on either side of her. She missed the presence of ‘her’ Wardens as she had come to think of them. She got dressed and crawled out of the tent, hoping somebody had already made coffee. She smiled when she saw Zevran, the Antivan always looked so put together and he made wonderful coffee. “Morning, Zevran, I was hoping somebody else was up and could make some coffee. I fear I am much better at cleaning the pots than filling them with anything worth tasting.” She tilted her head and considered the aromatic brew in the cup he handed to her, “It’s strange, I can make potions, poultices and poisons yet when it comes to simple cooking only Alistair seems to enjoy it. This is not saying much since I have seen him eat food that is practically coal. Come to think of it, it might have been coal.”
 
“You have your talents; oh pocket goddess, as do we all. I would not be Antivan if I did not know how to brew proper coffee,” Zevran continued to make idle chatter while Jannasilane sipped her coffee. It was obvious to him that she had not slept well. Nor did it escape his notice that neither of the Wardens had joined her. When they heard Morrigan Jannasilane quickly retrieved two more mugs and filled them with coffee, muttering something about refreshments for the Wardens before scurrying off. Zevran watched her go, enjoying the swing of her hips as he pondered.
 
Jannasilane entered the library tentatively and then smiled. Her two fierce Wardens were asleep, Alistair was face down on a table, presumably on top of a dusty tome, and Blake’s head was tilted against the back of his chair and he was lightly snoring. She went to him first and touched his shoulder. He immediately opened his eyes and sniffed appreciatively when she handed him the coffee. She knew Alistair was not always as easy to wake so she put the other mug on the table out of his reach before gently shaking him, “Ali, Alistair, it is morning.” He grunted sleepily and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her breasts and fondling her rear. Blake smiled in amusement while Package flushed with embarrassment and tried to get the warrior to wake up.
 
The minute he did so he sat straight up and dropped his arms from her. He looked at her when she handed him the coffee but she couldn’t read his expression. “Thank you,” was all he said. She couldn’t quite keep the hurt from showing on her face when she stepped away from him. He turned to Blake, “there aren’t many more books to look at, if you don’t mind a slight delay I’d like to finish going through them before we go.”
 
Blake felt like kicking him but decided that at least for now he wouldn’t say anything. “Fine, Alistair. Might as well since we’re here. Package, let’s you and I pay a quick visit to Avernus. I want him to know that the Drydens will be working at the Peak. We don’t want any unfortunate incidents,” he smiled down at her, keeping his thoughts to himself. Once the door was closed and they were away from the library he stopped her, “I know it’s none of my business but give him some time to think about everything.”
 
She looked at him, the hurt still lurking deep behind her eyes, “And what about you? Do you want me to leave? Do you even believe me?”
 
Blake debated what to tell her and finally opted for the complete truth, “Your revelations were surprising, to say the least. I am willing to believe it’s possible. You’re not crazy and you believe. The griffons are gone and your explanation at least makes sense. I can accept that the Grey Wardens were desperate to save the griffons and might have turned to unusual solutions. Your ability to heal more quickly than other non-Wardens and your stamina you might have gotten from Duncan. Even your ability to sense darkspawn and Grey Wardens might be because a Grey Warden is your father. But there is no way that directed screech of yours came from him. I’ve never even heard of that before. Either that is just an unusual ability you have or you inherited it. Whether you are descended from some combination of human and griffon I don’t know. I don’t disbelieve, I just don’t know.”
 
 “Do you wish for me to go?” she asked in a small voice.
 
“No, Package, not unless you want to leave. I like having you around and you are certainly fierce when we fight darkspawn. Although I am wondering if I should feel insulted that you do not find me attractive,” he quipped in an attempt to lighten her mood.
 
She smiled up at him, “I appreciate your honesty, Blake. I do not believe I said I found you unattractive.” She laughed when he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
 
Alistair watched them leave the library. He knew he’d been rude but it had taken all his willpower to not kiss her as he usually did. After that first night the physical side of their relationship had been nothing short of remarkable. Thinking of Blake watching while he manhandled her before he was fully awake caused him to blush in shame. “Maker, I might have taken her right here on the table before I was fully awake if she hadn’t stopped me.” The images he conjured caused him to swell uncomfortably in his armor. “Maker help me, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He picked up a book, hoping it would stop him thinking about what she said. Unlike Blake, he believed everything she told them. That was the problem.
 
 Avernus was actually pleased that a merchant would be at Soldier’s Peak. He said it would a lot easier for him to conduct his research now that he could more easily get supplies. “You don’t care for Avernus, why? Is there something I should know? Other than the blood magic, demons and experimenting on the Wardens,” Blake asked as they were returning from the old mage’s tower.
 
“He looks at me as if he suspects something is different about me. He is old enough to have possibly known something about the Griffons. I do not know if he can sense anything but he is not someone I would trust with such information. The Griffonsong were not always, hmm, happy while in Weisshaupt.” Jannasilane didn’t say anymore as they moved through the fortress and rejoined the others. She busied herself helping to breakdown their tent and packing up.
 
When Alistair rejoined them a short time later he was carrying a new sword he had found but shook his head when Blake asked if there was any useful information. “I found this, some interesting histories and correspondence but no information that could help us right now. I’m happy we’ve got a base and that it won’t be crawling with any more demons or undead.” He shrugged, “I wish there was something about the Archdemon but maybe no news is good news.”
 
“So we don’t have to dance the Remigold? That’s good to know, the possibility was keeping me up nights,” Blake replied with a straight face. Alistair laughed at the reminder while the others looked bewildered, except for Morrigan who curled her lip and muttered something about ‘Wardens’ and ‘idiots.’
 
They were well on their way before Jannasilane had a moment with Alistair. He hadn’t been avoiding her but he hadn’t taken advantages of opportunities to seek her out as he usually did. He didn’t know what to say to her so didn’t say anything. Jannasilane finally broke the awkward silence between them, “Are you alright, Alistair? You’ve been rather quiet.”
 
He looked at her then away, clearing his throat, “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking about . . . things.”
 
“No wonder she thought something was wrong,” Morrigan couldn’t help remarking. ”How many years has it been since you could claim you were ‘just thinking?’ Perhaps the old healer should check you over.”
 
“Still haven’t found a bush to crawl in, I see,” Alistair growled. Morrigan just smiled catlike and moved away. If she had wanted to keep them from talking she couldn’t have done better. Eventually Jannasilane moved ahead to help Blake scout the way ahead. “Handled that with my usual brilliance. Then again, maybe it’s just as well since I don’t know what to say.” He brooded the rest of the day and darted glances at her. A lifetime of belittlement and self-doubt was undermining the confidence which had been slowly growing since his conscription into the Grey Wardens.
 
That night when they retired Blake was reminded of the number of times Elissa used to cry on his shoulder and wanting him to fix what was wrong. Whenever she got in an argument she used to confide in him. When one of her father’s squires kissed her she talked to him about what she should do. She even asked him once to practice dancing with her so she didn’t embarrass herself the first time she was allowed to go to Denerim with her parents during the Landsmeet. Many of the nobles took advantage of the time to have parties and socialize with their colleagues from other parts of Ferelden. Package looked so unhappy that he wanted to make her smile just like he used to make his sister smile, but there wasn’t much he could do. “You fell asleep when I was telling you about Hohaku before, do you want me to finish?”
 
Jannasilane smiled a little. She snuggled into her bedroll and faced him, “the chief planned to choose Hohaku over his brothers and sisters because he was the biggest, strongest and smartest. If he was smarter than General Lee then he must have driven the villagers crazy.”
 
Blake smirked, “no mabari is smarter than General Lee. Hohaku’s problem wasn’t that he was smart. His problem was that he was proud and arrogant. He thought having the chief’s favor meant he could lord it over the other mabari. He took their food and generally bullied them. He not only bullied the other mabari he bullied the villagers. They complained to the chief but he did nothing to Hohaku. He said it meant Hohaku was strong and confident. He did keep watch, however. After all, this dog was going to guard his son and be his companion. The months and years passed and it was time to choose a mabari for his son and heir. At the choosing ceremony Hohaku sat proud and tall. He had no doubt of the outcome. When the chief chose one of his brothers instead Hohaku was furious. How dare he! He lunged forward and bit the chief before he ran away in shame. He ran down the mountain to the village. Every time he tried to find a place to rest he was chased away until he was alone in the wilderness. He was never heard from again.”
 
She snickered, “Morrigan would never run away, she would probably turn them all into toads so she could squash them.”
 
“Ha, you might be right. We probably shouldn’t tell her you compared her to a mabari or she’ll do the same to us. Good night, Package,” and smiled when she kissed him on the cheek before settling back into her bedroll.
 
When Alistair came into the tent after his turn at watch he couldn’t help noticing that Jannasilane was facing towards Blake and had left as much space for Alistair as possible. He wanted so much to just pull her against him and hold her tight but he resisted the urge. It wouldn’t be fair to her while he was so confused. She deserved more than that. He turned away from her and it was a long time before he could get to sleep.
 
Morning came and when he opened his eyes Jannasilane was propped on her side, watching him. He hated seeing the sadness in her eyes and knowing he was the cause. “If you find Blake attractive, why are you with me?” he blurted out.
 
She narrowed her eyes at him, temper beginning to build, “Blake is a friend and yes, I find him attractive. Are you saying I should be with him instead of you? Is that the only reason we have been together, because you find my body attractive? Perhaps I should go get him. If that is all then why have you not been with a woman before me? Surely you found others to be desirable.”
 
“Oh Maker, I knew I would mess this up. Look, I know I’m not the handsomest guy on Thedas and that Blake is very good looking, judging by the women flirting with him at Ostagar and Lothering and Denerim. I’m glad we’re friends and I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted more than to scratch an itch.” He sat up then and took her hands in his. He concentrated on them, turning them over and marveling at how something so small could be so deadly against darkspawn yet so tender or sexy when they were together. “I guess I never understood why you would prefer me over him, he has so much more to offer. It made sense when you spoke about . . . you know, the attraction.” He didn’t dare look at her. “I won’t lie, I have found other women attractive, but none like you. I keep thinking it’s not real, that one day you’ll wake up and your eyes will be open to who I really am, an awkward fool who makes bad jokes.”
 
She slapped him. Startled, his jaw dropped and he stared at her. She slapped him again, “Do you think I am so young and stupid that I do not know the difference between noticing that a man is attractive and finding somebody I want to, to be with, to share myself with?” A light blush overlay the red of temper in her cheeks. “Oh, Ali,” tenderly she kissed the cheeks she had just slapped, “when I met you I thought how handsome you both were, but you were so much more. You were so warm, your hair, your eyes which shone with heat and kindness, your smile. I was drawn to you as a flower to the sun. To you, not Blake. I like your sense of humor, the way you care about others. I find it hard to believe that you do not know how good-looking you are, do you never look in the mirror?”
 
He put his hand to his cheek, “At least I know I’m awake.” He shook his head ruefully.
 
“Does this mean I should slap you every morning?” she snickered.
 
“You are a wicked, wicked woman,” he muttered and kissed her thoroughly.
 
Jannasilane allowed herself to revel in his kisses for a few minutes before disentangling herself. There was more she should tell him before they went any farther. “Alistair, I like you and I enjoy being with you. But there is more you should know about the Griffonsong, something I could not say in that cold Tower,” she spoke very softly so none could hear outside the tent.
 
His desire wilted as dread possessed him. He sat there and waited for her to speak.
 
“I told you how my ancestors were ‘encouraged’ to be attracted to Grey Wardens. The results of the magic performed were uneven. Many experienced no more than I told you and can live normal lives. For some this attraction became a compulsion t-to mate, a c-com-p-pulsion so strong that a Warden, any Warden, could do absolutely anything and the Griffonsong would not complain.” Jannasilane didn’t bother disguising her bitterness, “if their need was not met they could go mad. They might even hurt themselves in an effort to find relief, no matter how temporary. Some stories say suicide was not uncommon.”
 
Alistair paled and looked sick, “But it’s not like that for you. Why are you telling me?”
 
“I am afraid, Alistair. Those were grown men and women, but the enhanced attraction is hereditary as well as the possibility of more.” Jannasilane hugged herself and wouldn’t look at him, “We call it the Time of Becoming, the time when, as an adult, this attraction will come into being. I am seventeen now. Eighteen seems to be the normal age for this to occur, but it can vary a year or two either way and lasts for approximately a dozen years. There is no way for me to know how strong my Time will be, if I will have the need. I cannot imagine being more attracted to you than I am already, Alistair. I hope that all I feel is more attraction to other Wardens. I do not want to become a mindless creature of want. I do not want to be with another. There are stories, horrible stories . . .” her voice trailed into silence. After a few minutes she spoke again, “this is why I cannot promise anything to another. Not until I know.”
 
“Y-you mean at some point you could w-want other m-men in your bed?” he whispered in a squeak. So many emotions came crowding down on him at one time he felt mauled. “No matter how much you might c-care for a p-person it might not be enough?”
 
“Need, not want, but yes.” Her hair hid her wince at ‘a person’, at the way he was distancing himself from her.
 
Images of her being with other men the way she had been with him started to pile up before his eyes. He saw himself being with her even as she beckoned to another. Without realizing it he started shaking his head, it was too much. “I don’t know if I can live with that,” he said so quietly she barely heard him.
 
She refused to let her tears fall. She knew from the beginning this was a possibility but she could not continue without letting him know what might happen. “I understand, Ali. I hope we can still be friends.” Quickly she got dressed and left him alone in the tent.
 
Slowly, as if ill and perhaps he was, Alistair got dressed. For once he had no appetite and decided to go ahead and pack everything up.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 19: A King’s Man
 
The next few days merged one into the other. Alistair didn’t smile or joke as he usually did and Jannasilane spent much of her time beside Sten, one of two who wouldn’t try to speak to her. They were skirting the edges of Bann Loren’s lands when they heard a disturbance. Blake motioned for Alistair, Jannasilane, Zevran and General Lee to accompany him to investigate. The others were to remain behind.
 
Quietly they moved through the forest until they could look down into a small glade. Guards wearing the colors of Bann Loren were surrounding a man on the ground. When they shifted Blake recognized the man on the ground as one of Cailan’s honor guard. A short scuffle broke out and Loren’s men were easily dispatched. Blake knelt by the wounded man, “Sorry we didn’t get here sooner. What were they doing with you?”
 
 “I escaped from Loren’s dungeon. I recognize you; you were Duncan’s newest recruit. I was one of Cailan’s guards, Elric.” The man stopped speaking to catch his breath. When he could speak again, he wheezed out, “Maker has a sense of humor it seems, you being the one to find me. When I saw those monsters and Loghain gone, I panicked and ran. King Cailan was my friend and I left him behind.” Elric shook his head in shame and self-disgust. Blake didn’t say anything, just let the man talk. There was nothing else he could do for him or to him, he was dying. “Cailan gave me the key to his chest, to guard it.”
 
“The Royal Chest? Cailan kept his father’s sword in that chest, said he was going to use it to kill the Archdemon,” Alistair interjected. “Do you still have the key or is there somebody else we need to find?”
 
Elric grunted, “Was worried I might lose it so I hid it at camp, didn’t I?”
 
“Do you think the darkspawn found it?” Blake wanted to know.
 
“Could they work it if they did? It’s at the base of a statue. The chest also has important papers, correspondence between Cailan and Empress Celene. Warden, if you go you need to get back Cailan’s armor. Don’t let it be pawed over by those monsters.” Those were the last words Elric spoke.
 
“I’m going with you, I have a score to settle,” Alistair stated.
 
Jannasilane spoke up, “I too shall accompany you.” She couldn’t help wondering if they would find her father’s body or something that belonged to him.
 
Blake nodded in agreement. “Tomorrow we return to Ostagar.”
 
That night Alistair had a hard time getting to sleep after his watch was over. He kept thinking about Duncan and Cailan at Ostagar and what they might find. Blake went on watch before his body finally shut down. For the first time in a long time he had nightmares, only these weren’t dreams where he could hear the darkspawn. He saw Cailan and Duncan and the other Grey Wardens. Once again he saw Blake’s Joining. His imagination supplied him with images of Duncan and Cailan being torn apart. He rolled over and caught the scent of Jannasilane. In his nightmare it signaled the way out and he reached for it, for her.
 
Jannasilane’s sleep since Soldier’s Peak was not as restful as before. She missed being cuddled by Alistair and still hoped that maybe they could find their way back to the way things were. When he reached for her and pulled her against him she didn’t even think. Even half-asleep embracing him was as natural as breathing and she responded instantly to his bruising kiss.
 
Alistair was still caught in his dreams. No longer nightmares, instead he dreamt that he and Jannasilane were married and it was their wedding night. She was so beautiful. Eagerly he removed her clothes and his own before smothering her breasts with kisses. With one hand he reached between her legs and found her wet and ready, nearly as desperate for him as he was for her. Grinning against her stomach he kissed his way up her chest, shoulders and neck until he once more took possession of her mouth. “Janna,” he whispered and opened his eyes, “Andraste’s breath, she’s so beautiful. I love seeing her like this, just for me.” For a brief second he thought he was still dreaming and then realized what he had done, and almost done, how he was using her without even realizing it. He closed his eyes again in shame and self-disgust. “By the Maker, how can I ever call myself an honorable man again? I shouldn’t touch her if I don’t know if I can accept and live with what she told us, told me. She deserves so much more.” He couldn’t stifle a groan and Jannasilane’s eyes fluttered open in time to see his disgust. A cold arrow pierced her heart at his gruff words, “I’m sorry, this shouldn’t have happened,” and he rolled away from her, facing the wall of the tent. He heard her breathing heavily while she got dressed and left their tent. For the first time since he was a young templar recruit he could feel tears sliding down his face.
 
“I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry,” she kept telling herself. She gulped in the night air and made her way to the fire. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Blake touched her arm.
 
“Are you alright, Package?” Blake asked softly, concerned. He wondered if she and Alistair had finally talked about what was bothering him.
 
She smiled tremulously. She did not realize the tears she refused to shed shone in the moonlight. “I am fine,” she lied. “I could not sleep so sought to sit by the fire.” She let him take her hand and get her settled, finding comfort in his presence.
 
Zevran saw them and his jaw tightened as he observed the tenderness Blake displayed. “Braska, what has that stupid templar done?” He pasted a smile on his face and joined them. “A goddess blesses us with her presence.” He took her hand and bowed as he brought it to his lips. She flushed prettily; his attentions were a balm to her spirits after Alistair. Frustrated desire made her respond more than she might have otherwise.
 
Blake was amused, and a little bit jealous. He acknowledged to himself he had no right to be since he had so far refused to act on his attraction to Zevran. If a little flirtation helped make Package feel better he wasn’t going to say anything, although he did wonder what was going on between her and Alistair. At least they were trying to be discreet about their differences. “We’re not going to have the luxury of setting up camp for the night for much longer,” he said.
 
“No, we will be getting too close to many darkspawn,” Jannasilane agreed. Then she yawned. At Blake’s look she lifted her chin, “I am not tired,” she said stubbornly.
 
“Should you change your mind you can use my tent if you like. I will not need it since I am on watch with the Warden and it is closer,” he offered the lie with a charming smile.
 
Jannasilane recognized the lie but accepted the face-saving excuse. The strain of pretending nothing was wrong was getting to her and she wasn’t ready to face Alistair. “Perhaps you are right. Thank you, Zevran.” She left them and crawled into the Antivan’s tent. She took a moment to marvel at how neatly organized it was before she settled down. Once she relaxed she once again saw Alistair’s face filled with disgust. Her body still tingled with unfulfilled desire. Her thoughts chased each other on the ruins of unacknowledged dreams. Finally she slept.
 
After she was gone the two men remained silent. Finally Zevran spoke, cautiously, “You are quite fond of the pocket goddess, my dear Warden.”
 
“I suppose I am,” Blake replied absently, his eyes on the tent where she lay. “She’s a good friend; it’s odd how quickly that happened. I don’t usually feel close to somebody so quickly but we have a lot in common.” He thought of the night after the Fade, their shared grief created a bond between them, one that promised to be lifelong. He wondered what Alistair had done to put the hurt in her eyes, but he wasn’t going to pry. At least not yet. He shook his head, he wasn’t going to take sides but it was hard to see her hurting. He turned his attention back to the elf, “She was right about a lot of darkspawn. Not that I expected anything else. I doubt we have more than two nights before we stop setting up camp and just take brief rests. I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back to Ostagar, not yet.”
 
 Zevran’s ears perked up, “Now this is interesting. The Warden has never shared more personal thoughts before; perhaps I am making more progress than I thought.” What was it like? I have heard the official version, and stories of course but they were all rather removed from the source.”
 
“I met Cailan a couple of times before Ostagar. He had a lot of charm, a bit like you but not as wicked. I got the impression he used that charm and general amiability as a shield, He was smart, I think a lot smarter than people gave him credit for.” Blake shrugged, “When I saw him at Ostagar he was very confident. He held the Grey Wardens in high regard and I think counted on their prowess more than was practical; though this might have been his way of keeping his troops confident. Alistair and I weren’t in the final battle.” Briefly he drew a diagram in the dirt to give Zevran a picture. “The plan was for the king’s army to draw the darkspawn in and then Loghain’s troops would come in from either side, trapping them. We were to light the beacon at the top of the Tower, signaling Loghain to move. He and Maric used this tactic very effectively in the war against the Orlesians.”
 
“Have you ever been in a war, Zevran?” Zevran shook his head. He could scarcely compare the rivalries, deadly as they were, between the Crow guild masters to a war. “We had to cross the bridge to get to the Tower. I took a moment for a look at the enemy. I will never forget the implacable river of torches marching against us. I couldn’t see the end of it. Nobody in their right mind could see that and not believe the threat was real. Alistair and I hurried to the Tower. There weren’t supposed to be any darkspawn but they must have tunneled up from underneath and we had to fight our way to the top. Any guards who survived fought along with us. I know we were late lighting the beacon, even without the darkspawn we needed to move. But we lit the beacon and I watched as Loghain turned away. He didn’t even make an attempt to save the king. Maybe I’m no great general, but from what I saw he could have cut a quick swathe through the darkspawn and rescued Cailan before retreating. The king’s army would have died anyway, but the king would have been alive and maybe the darkspawn disorganized enough that the slaughter would have been less. I think that’s what I can’t forgive him for, not that he made the decision to retreat but that he did so with no attempt to retrieve the king.”
 
“Kings die, nobles die, many die, my dear Warden,” Zevran said practically. “The Crows have been in business for many years because people want power and do not wish to wait for fate to favor them.”
 
“It shouldn’t be because he was betrayed by his general, his father’s best friend and his wife’s father,” Blake said hotly. “Loghain didn’t just betray the king, he betrayed Ferelden. He betrayed every man and woman fighting on that battlefield.” He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. “Only Grey Wardens can end a Blight and now there are only two in the entire country. The rest died at Ostagar.” Dawn was starting to break. “We need to get a move on.” He busied himself making coffee, not wanting to talk any more.
 
Zevran watched him for a minute and then wandered over to his tent. He ducked inside and smiled at the sleeping vision before him. He lay down next to her and put his hand on her abdomen, though he itched to touch those magnificent breasts. He wanted her to slowly get used to his touch and did not want to frighten her away. If she went back to the templar, no harm done. If she did not then he would be in a better position to seduce her later if he decided it was necessary. He put his head next to her ear so that his lips just barely touched. “It is morning, Pocket Goddess, time for you to wake,” his lips and words caressed her and he noted with interest her body responding. She was a very sensual young woman. He kept a bland expression on his face as she slowly woke and turned to face him.
 
“Z-zev?” Jannasilane blinked slowly in confusion before she remembered. Zevran saw the sadness fill her eyes before she sat up and turned away from him. “Thank you for letting me use your tent.” He let his fingers walk up her back before laying a friendly hand on her shoulders. Silently he backed out of his tent and then reached his hand in to assist her.
 
At the same time Alistair came out of their tent and froze when he saw the two of them. It took him a minute to remember that Zevran would have been on watch with Blake and therefore nothing could have happened but he still didn’t like it. “Not that I can blame her for not wanting to return to our tent after the way I treated her. Maker, how could I be such a selfish bastard?” He brooded for the rest of the day, only his training kept part of his mind alert and on the tasks at hand. When he caught himself watching Jannasilane he quickly averted his eyes.
 
Jannasilane wrapped her pride around her as much as possible. She avoided Alistair easily enough; he was avoiding her as well. She couldn’t help noticing that he looked away from her with a sense of shame or regret when he looked at her at all. Each time hurt. Fighting the darkspawn was a welcome relief. That night Blake and Alistair set up the tent without her help. As soon as it was up she went inside without speaking to either of them so she could arrange the bedrolls. She was taking no chances of the previous night repeating itself. No longer side by side, her bedroll was perpendicular to theirs with her head near Blake’s and she put the packs near her feet and Alistair’s head.
 
When the two Wardens entered the tent a short time later and noticed the new arrangement Blake whistled. “She is not happy with you, my friend. What did you do?”
 
Ashamed, Alistair blurted out, “I was dreaming and got carried away. I stopped as soon as I woke up, before things went . . . but . . . this is probably for the best. I just hope she’ll forgive me. Eventually.”
 
When he and Package turned in for the night Blake took the opportunity to speak to her, “Package, Alistair told me what happened last night. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
 
Surprised and embarrassed Jannasilane turned bright red and couldn’t speak at first. Finally she stuttered, “N-not ph-physically if, if that is what you mean. I h-had hoped, but I guess, no, it is clear we are done. I knew that such m-might be the case when I told you, told him . . .” her voice trailed off into incoherence.
 
Blake hugged her and soothed her. There was really nothing for him to say. He wasn’t sure she was right but couldn’t argue the point either. That they were both miserable was the only thing he knew for sure. The rest was up to them and he would leave it alone as long as their problems with each other didn’t affect the group. “Well, at least this way you can ‘accidentally’ kick him in the head. Just don’t do it too hard,” he teased. She sniffed and snickered before crawling under her covers. “Goodnight, Package,” Blake said before getting into his own bedroll.
 
Jannasilane woke when Alistair came in after his watch was over but pretended to be asleep. She could sense him looking at her before lying down. He tossed and turned but eventually quieted into sleep. Only then was she able to drift back into dreams of what was not to be.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 20: At Least One Bad Decision
 
They were no longer setting up tents at night, for which Jannasilane was grateful. She hoped things would be easier between her and Alistair once they started again. In the days since ‘the incident’ as she thought of it, they pretty much avoided each other. She found comfort in Blake’s company and Leliana’s stories. Zevran spent more time with her as well and she had to admit she enjoyed his flirtation. She was too naïve to suspect he had an ulterior motive. She told herself she was coming to terms with not being with Alistair any longer, and only hoped he wouldn’t hold it against her if she needed him when her Time came. She deliberately ignored the effect even the most incidental touch still had on her.
 
Alistair didn’t like their separation and knew he was to blame. As many times as he thought to talk to her memories of his behavior stopped him. He was ashamed of how he acted and he still did not know if he could live with what might happen later. A small niggling doubt was festering, doubt that her feelings were real and not influenced by her ancestry. His insecurity and lack of self-confidence had him halfway convinced it was for the best. That they were no longer sharing a tent made it easier to accept the lies he was telling himself.
 
Blake had decided to approach Ostagar from the east. They’d been on the move for a few hours when Jannasilane stopped them. “Blake, I recognize this place. I would like to stop here for awhile, if it is fine with you. We are getting low on some of the health poultices and this is a good place to find the herbs we need. Many are near a pond over there,” she pointed to the west. “And many grow by a stream there,” this time she pointed to the southeast. “The way to the stream is trickier. Somebody could gather herbs by the pond and I can gather those by the stream.” Blake nodded his assent. They certainly weren’t likely to find much at Ostagar.
 
“You can’t go alone,” Alistair protested.
 
Zevran saw his opportunity. For days he had stood by while the Warden and the pocket goddess teased each other. They appeared to be getting closer to each other and he burned that his progress with the Warden was being thwarted. He was convinced that if they weren’t already having sex it would be only a matter of time, leaving him out in the cold. He was determined not to let that happen, “I shall gladly accompany the pocket goddess. Perhaps Alistair could protect whoever goes to the pond.”
 
“Then let us go,” Jannasilane said before Alistair could say anything else. She was relieved to be almost alone. They moved in silence at first, but soon Jannasilane relaxed a bit and asked him more questions about Antiva and the Crows. She was tired of brooding about Alistair. For his part Zevran thought the blue robe she was wearing was quite conducive to his planned seduction. He moved so he was just barely inside her personal space, just enough for her body to be aware of his but not enough for her to object. “So you wish to know more of Antiva?” Jannasilane shivered as his voice seemed to vibrate through her skin. Zevran pretended not to notice and continued to use his voice to seduce her even as he spoke of innocuous things. “In Antiva City it is not only the flowers which perfume the air. It is rich with the scent of exotic spices and the best coffee. There are many fine cafes overlooking the ocean, where one can sit and watch people dance the dance of romance. Women with sultry eyes behind lace fans, handsome men preening and pretending to ignore them. I enjoy drinking fine wine and sitting where the breeze can caress my skin and the heat of the sun slowly thrusts deep inside with its warmth.”
 
He used his vast experience to caress her at every opportunity and yet have each touch seem perfectly casual, even incidental. Zevran recognized the signs of her arousal, the hardening of her nipples visible through the fabric of her robe, the way she trembled at his touch, her breathlessness when she spoke. Any qualms he had about taking advantage of her innocence and emotional state he pushed away.
 
Jannasilane had always thought Zevran handsome and graceful. This was the first time she’d spent any significant amount of time alone with him and the intensity of her reaction to his presence surprised and confused her. His touch and voice seemed so intimate, yet there was nothing she could object to. If she moved away he did not follow, yet it seemed as if no time passed before he was as close as ever. She wondered what it would be like if he touched her, really touched her, not by mistake or casually. She remembered Alistair seeking her out at night and then rolling away as soon as he realized what he was doing, leaving her body wanting and her heart empty. Would it really be so terrible to simply enjoy the company of another? One who did not find her disgusting?
 
She smiled with satisfaction when they reached the stream. There was a good supply of elfroot and other useful herbs. Thankfully the darkspawn horde was far enough away that the ground wasn’t tainted. She got down and sniffed the water, to see if any taint was coming from upstream. Zevran enjoyed the view, that delectable derriere nicely silhouetted, “You know, I have always enjoyed watching you walk. Your curves have such a lovely rhythm. But seeing them displayed like this is also very enjoyable.” His fingers lightly tracing her rear made it very clear to Jannasilane what he meant.
 
She sat up abruptly, blushing furiously, “Th-the water is s-safe. I’ll put some damp cloths in the bottom of the packs.” She couldn’t quite keep her movements steady when Zevran helped her.
 
They worked quickly. Zevran continued his campaign of seduction. At one point he stood and stretched, “All this grubbing in the dirt, I shall take advantage of the stream before we return to the others. Meanwhile, I see no reason not to air out my armor while we are here.” He quickly took off his armor and set it on some rocks. He was pleased at the reaction from Jannasilane. She couldn’t help following the lines of his tattoos; she kept looking away only to return her gaze to his body. When Zevran judged her curiosity was at its peak he pulled her to a kneeling position even as he got to his knees; carefully making sure no part of him was more than a breath away. Her breasts rubbed lightly against his chest with every breath, causing her to quiver. She was mesmerized by his actions. Zevran cupped her face, tracing her cheekbones with his thumb before closing her mouth and tracing her lips. “Like what you see, Pocket Goddess?” She whimpered when he leaned in to kiss her, his tongue replacing his fingers. Silkily he parted her lips and slowly ran his hands down her side and back. She put her hands on his shoulder but wasn’t sure whether to pull him closer or push him away.
 
Zevran smiled to himself. This was going to be even more satisfying than he could have hoped. She was indeed a ‘sexy little package.’ He moved his hands to caress the backs of her thighs and then back up, under her robe so only the thin cloth of her smallclothes was between his clever fingers and her sensitive skin. He pulled her closer so she had no choice but to move her arms around him or drop them to her side. She wrapped them around him. His kisses drugged her. His mouth traced the line of her jaw to her ears and he gently nibbled her lobe before moving down her neck. At the same time he slipped his hands under her smalls and eased them down over the silky flesh. Her protest died in her throat when he once again brought his mouth to hers. “Z-Zev-Zevran?” she was finally able to speak when his fingers found their way between her legs and began worrying her nub.
 
His breath hot against her ear he answered her question with one of his own, “Do you wish me to stop, oh spicy temptress?” He nipped the sweet curve where her neck met her shoulder. He pushed her back onto the soft ground and braced his hands on either side of her, imprisoning her with his body. He kissed her and then breathed more kisses against her skin and whispered once more, “Should I stop?” He became immobile as he waited; the closeness of his body to hers was an aphrodisiac.
 
Almost painfully Jannasilane opened her eyes. She stared at the tanned skin so close she could lick it without moving. She could smell his arousal and her own. Maker help her she wanted this. “N-n-no, d-don’t stop,” she stuttered. This time when he kissed her he took absolute possession. Under no circumstances would he allow her to come to her senses and change her mind. His tongue challenged hers to a duel as he held her close to him. His hands kneaded her bare bottom while only the material of her robe separated her from his erection. He nipped her lips and trailed kisses along the line of her jaw back to her ear. This time he nibbled and sucked more insistently. He spread kisses down her neck, leaving little bruises behind.
 
He moved his hands to the front of her robe and whispered in her ear, “Did the Warden ever bring you to woods just so he could bare you to his gaze?” She didn’t even have time to understand the question before he did just that, spreading her robe open so that her breasts spilled out into his eager hands. Masterfully he manipulated her, tweaking, pinching and caressing bringing her to the brink again and again. She would have done anything to stop the exquisite torture he was inflicting. He marveled at the texture of her skin and the feel of her nipple pebbling in his mouth. Even the slight touch of teeth as he rolled her nipple in his mouth had her begging him. Hungrily now he shoved her robe all the way off and feasted. He squeezed her breasts together so he could more easily divide his attention between them. Few understood how sensitive the underside of a woman’s breast could be. He licked the warm skin, enjoying the taste. With his fingers he parted the folds of her womanhood and slid them skillfully into her entrance. He bit under her breast then sucked and soothed with his tongue as his practiced hands performed their own magic. Her fingers were tangled in his hair and he reveled at the sensation of her nails lightly scratching.
 
When he moved to trace her navel with his tongue she bucked against him. She could feel his smile against her skin and didn’t care. He tongued her nub and then slowly brought it into his mouth, lightly teething and sucking. His fingers began moving more rhythmically in and out, stroking her and bringing her higher. He moved so that his tongue replaced his fingers and his hands had a firm grasp on that wonderful rear. She cried out when his tongue worked its magic. The roughness rasped delightfully against her inner flesh. He sucked and licked until she came, drinking up the juices as they flowed. When she relaxed he moved back to her mouth and spread her legs over his shoulders, leaving her completely at his mercy. She was wonderfully limber. He closed his eyes in pleasure when he entered her, enjoying being buried in a woman’s curves once more. And this one was such a wonderful example of the species.
 
After so many unfulfilled nights and Zevran’s skillful teasing it didn’t take long for Jannasilane’s desire to start building again as soon as he entered her. She could taste herself on his lips when he kissed her, bruising her. His tongue mimicked his thrusting manhood and brought her release. And again when he spilled his seed inside her. Breathing harshly he rode out the aftershocks, still thrusting. Looking at her swollen lips and sated expression, he smiled. He let her legs slide off his shoulders down to the ground. It was tempting to simply collapse on top of that wonderful flesh and savor the moment and he purred in her ear, “You are a very sensual woman, my little siren.”
 
Jannasilane felt pleasantly limp. She wouldn’t say so to Zevran, but it wasn’t as nice as it had been with Alistair before Soldier’s Peak. Still, it was obvious to her that he was very skilled and she couldn’t honestly say she was sorry. It was nice to pretend for a few minutes.
 
Gently he lay her down on the ground and kissed her. He found what was left of her smalls and cleaned the two of them as best he could. He was proud that his efforts had given her such satisfaction even as he accomplished his own goals. He stood and his eyes glittered strangely as they traveled down that luscious little body of hers, stopping on every bruise. They were well placed. Even if she could hide the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her robe the Warden would easily be able to see what she had been doing. Perhaps the Warden would not be quite so entranced and would turn his eyes to a more elven direction as they had before. He spoke to the girl lying before him, his tone lightly mocking, “Tsk, I wonder what your Warden would say if he saw you like this, covered in the signs of possession by another man?”
 
Jannasilane froze, her head clearing as dread replaced satisfaction. She had to clear her throat twice before she could speak, “Why do you care what Alistair thinks?” She watched him carefully to judge his answer, a heavy lump in the pit of her stomach.
 
“Alistair? What does the templar . . .” realization dawned on Zevran as he realized he had completely misinterpreted the changed relationship between the Wardens and this girl. His desire for the Grey Warden had blinded him to the fact that while he had an easy and familiar relationship with Jannasilane, the true connection was still between her and Alistair. All he had managed to do, other than have sex with an incredibly sensual woman was to damage further whatever was going on between her and Alistair, the possibility of enticing Blake, and whatever friendship he might have had with the lovely Jannasilane. And perhaps his desire, though not as strong, for her had also blinded him. Zevran was unfamiliar with jealousy or he might have recognized the signs before now. He was forced to admit to himself that his plan was ill-conceived even if she and the Warden were together.
 
“I see,” Jannasilane said hollowly, unaware of the slow tears falling. “Well, not really. I only see that I was not important.” Zevran didn’t dare touch her, he felt completely unworthy of doing so. “Alistair already made me feel like a piece of trash on a brothel floor. I didn’t need you to finish what he started,” she said bitterly. Slowly, like a wizened old woman, she made her way to the stream and tried to scrub away all signs of their recent activity. Still wet she pulled on her robe. So many bruises, Zevran’s marks, dotted the flesh left open by the robe she couldn’t begin to hide them. With as much pride as she could manage she finally looked at the brooding Antivan, “you’re old enough to be my father, Mr. Arainai, don’t you think it’s time you grew up?” She felt soiled. She picked up the herbs and left him. She felt so ashamed that she had allowed herself to be used. She didn’t realize that, inexperienced and emotionally vulnerable, she’d been an easy target for someone of Zevran’s skill and determination.
 
Zevran got dressed slowly. He was almost as unfamiliar with guilt as he was jealousy and he didn’t like either feeling. Her words and her tears kept replaying in his mind. “She is right, it is time I grew up and stopped acting like a selfish child.” He followed her, “I do not know what I can do to make this right, but I shall try. I am sorry. I would ask for your forgiveness but I do not deserve it.” He couldn’t blame her for not saying anything. She might want to be alone but it was too dangerous until they reached the others. He winced at the dull, lifeless expression in her eyes and felt lower than at almost any point in his life. Even the Crows’ training, designed to break the spirit, never made him feel so low.
 
They made their way back in silence. When they were close Jannasilane took a deep breath and lifted her head. Zevran was relieved to see the sign of pride. The pack of herbs she was carrying hid the bruises and the front of her robe.
 
“You’re back! I was getting worried,” Alistair said when he saw them. Then he frowned, “Your hair is wet.”
 
Jannasilane sniffed and raised her head, “Yes. We found many herbs,” she said turning to Blake. Zevran couldn’t help admiring the way she deliberately ignored Alistair’s unasked questions. “It will not take long to get these ready for poultices.” Zevran kept his features schooled to a mild interest when Alistair glanced at him suspiciously.
 
The routine preparations gave Jannasilane some solace and allowed her the chance to gather more of her composure.  She was able to take a moment to quickly change robes. She felt better once she was more covered and most of the bruises hidden. What was done was done. If she felt cold and sick inside, well that was her business. She felt Alistair’s presence before he spoke, “Do you need any help?” She shook her head dismissively. She didn’t want to talk to him, not now. But he didn’t take the hint. In a lower voice he asked her, “Did he hurt you?”
 
Jannasilane whipped her head up at that, her eyes gleaming like a wounded, angry lion. “How dare he ask me that! As if he has a right . . .” Her voice tight with fury she snarled at him with a question of her own, “You mean more than you did?” She watched his face go whiter than bone and tried not to feel guilty. She didn’t succeed, especially when he stumbled away from her. Part of her wanted to call out to him, but hurt pride wouldn’t let her. She scowled as she finished with the herbs and packed everything away. She wasn’t sure which was worse, what happened with Zevran or that she was going to have to apologize to Alistair. “I’ll think about it tomorrow, maybe.”
 
Soon they were on the move again. It was easy to put their differences aside as they drew nearer to Ostagar. They didn’t really have time to do anything but keep alert and fight.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 21: Ostagar Revisited
 
Winter came early to Ostagar. Snow drifted and covered everything. General Lee whined and the two Grey Wardens took a moment to gather their thoughts. So many memories came back, hopes and dreams now destroyed. So many good men dead. Jannasilane stood between them, the enormity of what happened hitting her. She reached for and took one of their hands into her own, giving what comfort she could. Alistair looked down at her and caught her looking up at him. Her eyes were dark with emotion but she didn’t look away. He took some comfort in that. Ever since she came back with Zevran several days ago they’d been avoiding each other. Truth be told he hadn’t been seeking her out in the weeks since Soldier’s Peak. Maybe, just maybe she was starting to forgive him. “Looks like the darkspawn have been redecorating,” he said lightly and was rewarded with a small smile. “Luckily for us the darkspawn don’t like cold, so we shouldn’t have as many to deal with.”
 
“We’re near Cailan’s war council,” Blake ignored Alistair. He didn’t realize he was squeezing Package’s hand. “Three months ago I was joking with Fergus about the cold and lonely march ahead of him. I came in from the other side, near the Tower of Ishal. Cailan met us just the other side of the bridge. He seemed quite happy to see us, to see Duncan returning with a new recruit. He promised he would deal with Howe once the darkspawn were defeated. It seems like another lifetime. Perhaps it was.”
 
“Uldred and I were the only mages who survived. How strange it is to be back here now. It feels like we are walking on their corpses,” Wynne sighed. The others stirred uneasily. They may not have been at Ostagar but they could feel the magnitude of the catastrophe which had occurred here. Even Morrigan was not unaffected.
 
Jannasilane sensed something. Darkspawn of course, but there was something else. It was hard to tell with so many of the twisted creatures nearby. She didn’t even have time to frown over it before they were attacked. Quickly they got into their accustomed positions and fought back. Zevran maneuvered so he could keep an eye out for both the Warden and the pocket goddess. He was determined not to let any more harm come to her. He’d been watching out for her from a distance since the day by the stream. Unfortunately for Wynne that meant she got the ‘benefit’ of his over the top flirtatious comments.
 
The combination of snow and groups of darkspawn meant they moved slowly. As they continued their battles against the darkspawn Jannasilane tried to keep her senses tuned to find the ‘other’ that she sensed. Unfortunately she ended up distracting herself. When Alistair nearly got hurt because she turned away from a darkspawn coming against her Blake had enough. As soon as the skirmish was over he grabbed her upper arm and marched her away from the others. “What in blazes is wrong with you?” he demanded. His temper wasn’t improved to see Zevran hovering nearby. “You need to concentrate on the battle at hand. Your personal issues cannot be allowed to interfere with the safety of the group, now what is going on?”
 
She was already pale from the realization that Alistair could have been hurt because of her. Blake yelling at her made her turn whiter, “I-it’s not, it’s not personal,” she stammered. “I th-think there’s a Warden somewhere.”
 
Blake let go of her arm in surprise and then cursed when he saw the beginnings of burn marks. “Damn it, why didn’t you say something? I wasn’t trying to hurt you.” He scowled at her.
 
 “If my actions caused Alistair or somebody else to be hurt then I deserve them. I didn’t even feel them until now.” She looked over at Alistair; he was sitting and watching them with an anxious expression. Blake pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers then motioned Alistair to join them. Before he could say anything Jannasilane spoke to the warrior, “I am sorry, Alistair. I do not wish to see you hurt, especially if I am the cause.”
 
“No harm done,” he shrugged, “to me anyway,” he added when he saw the marks on her arm. He turned to Blake, “What’s going on?”
 
“She thinks a Grey Warden is somewhere at Ostagar and she’s been distracted trying to determine exactly where this person might be.” Blake was silent a minute, thinking. “Maybe you are sensing a Warden, Package, but when we’re fighting darkspawn or anything else you need to keep your attention focused one hundred percent on the battle. You can try your sensing thing again when we’re not in immediate danger, is that clear?”
 
“Yes, Warden,” Jannasilane answered in a small voice.
 
“You knew we were Grey Wardens when we first saw you, how come you don’t know for sure if you are sensing a Warden now?” Alistair wondered.
 
“I suppose I assumed if more Wardens survived they would be with you and I sensed no others. You were not surrounded by darkspawn; we had just killed the only ones in the area. My sense did not become active until just a few years ago and I have not had much practice until recently. I know only that I got a quick sense of something that was not darkspawn, was not you and was not Blake. It felt related to how you and Blake feel to me,” Jannasilane struggled to explain what she did not completely understand herself. “Perhaps I should see if this is something I can make stronger.”
 
“That could be useful but right now we need to get ready. There are more darkspawn manning the ballistae overlooking the Wilds. Positions everyone!” Blake commanded. Another series of skirmishes commenced and steadily they cleared out the darkspawn this side of the bridge. The bridge seemed clear but there was no cover so they moved quickly until they reached the middle. There they stopped in shocked horror. “There used to be a statue here,” Blake growled quietly, angered by the darkspawn treatment of King Cailan. Alistair just clenched his jaw and stared, his expression a mix of grief and anger. Jannasilane’s eyes widened. In place of the statue which used to stand a man’s body had been placed and posed. Arrows dotted his naked form. For a minute she thought she was looking at Alistair and had to turn her head to verify the warrior was standing next to her. She looked again at the body of Cailan. In spite of the pain he must have suffered death had given him a luminous beauty and tranquil grace. In the background Leliana said a soft prayer.
 
Their battle continued when the corpses on the bridge came to ‘life’ courtesy of a genlock necromancer. Alistair made a vow to come back and give Cailan what honor they could. On they went. Even though Blake had decided they would salvage after all the darkspawn were cleared out Alistair insisted on retrieving any of Cailan’s armor they found. He didn’t want to risk it disappearing again. “Do you still sense a Grey Warden, Janna?” Alistair asked before they followed their enemy into the Tower of Ishal.
 
“Ye-es, but it is muffled. I do not think too far away but I cannot get a good direction. It feels like it is coming from below, which I do not understand,” she worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
 
“There are even older ruins underneath the Tower. The darkspawn broke through to come into the Tower from below but we’ll see soon enough,” Blake speculated. And in they went and just barely dodged a fireball. “We need to put that emissary down,” Blake gritted his teeth. Fortunately none of them were hurt. Ogres were in the main room waiting for them and reminding both Wardens of their last ill-fated visit. The darkspawn even released a Bereskarn from its cage. Once they took care of everything on this level of the Tower they tried to open the door upstairs but it was jammed shut. Their only option was to go down the hole in the floor and find out what they could. Alistair voiced the distaste they all felt as they jumped down, one after the other.
 
There were more spiders than darkspawn in the underground ruins. Jannasilane shook her head as they moved along, “I hate the sound spiders make; it’s creepy.”
 
“I have to agree with the pocket goddess. The sound seems to stay with you even when they are gone,” Zevran grimaced.
 
“I never noticed that. I agree they are unpleasant, but no more so than other creatures we have come across,” Leliana replied.
 
Wynne spoke up then, “Ah, but our ears are not as sensitive as Jannasilane’s and Zevran’s. They obviously pick up something we are fortunate enough to miss.”
 
“The way out seems to be up ahead. Our necromancer friend is out there and I am sure he has something special in mind,” Blake interrupted them.
 
“He is not the only one; I can sense the Warden as well.” Blake nodded at Package to show he understood and led the way outside. They had to blink in the sudden brightness. The two Wardens and Wynne also blinked back the sudden onrush of memories of the battle waged and lost on this very field.
 
“There he is, the Grey Warden, on the other side. He is surrounded,” Jannasilane shouted and began racing off to help. The others were spurred to action and that’s when the necromancer struck. He resurrected not just the dead soldiers but a giant ogre in Jannasilane’s path. Quickly she slid between its legs and leapt onto its back with daggers slicing, slowing and weakening it while the others caught up to her. When she reached its shoulders she launched herself backwards over the heads and reaching arms of the angry skeletons. She hit the ground running and continued to the lone Grey Warden. She heard Alistair yelling to draw the attention of the small mob behind her and smiled.
 
When she got close to the creatures surrounding the other Warden she screeched. Those not disoriented were at least startled enough that she was able to bowl a few over and join the Warden. He nodded appreciation of her assistance and together they quickly dispatched the dead. Breathing heavily she looked around, “There he is, the necromancer, we stop him we stop all.” Together they raced toward the fiendish creature. The other Warden fired arrows to distract it as they ran. Jannasilane separated from him in order to try and flank the creature. From across the field Alistair saw what they were doing and moved close enough to smite him before turning back to the ogre at hand. That smite gave them the opening they needed to take it down. Across the field the others were quickly dealing with the remnants of the attack.
 
Smiling, the other Warden turned to Jannasilane, “I thank you, milady, for your helpful intervention.” He took her hand and bowed to her, kissing the back of her hand as he did so. She blushed slightly and he let go of her hand when he stood. “My name is Riordan, and how should I address my rescuer?” Riordan had always had a weakness for small curvy women and he could not hide the masculine appreciation in his eyes as he looked at her.
 
Jannasilane grinned then, “I think, Warden Riordan, you would have been quite successful without my help. I am Jannasilane, you can call me Janna or Lane if you prefer.” His honest but gentlemanly appreciation was a balm to her ego, first damaged by Alistair then by Zevran. She chuckled at his look of surprise when she addressed him by his title but did not get a chance to explain before they were surrounded by the others.
 
Alistair and Zevran moved behind Jannasilane in a protective maneuver which was not lost on Riordan. He kept his eyes on Alistair even as Blake stood by her side, examining the stranger. “As I was explaining to the Lady Janna I am Riordan . . . Alistair? It is you, is it not?” he interrupted himself as he recognized the blond warrior.
 
“Yes, that’s right. Wait a minute, I recognize you now.” He spoke to Blake, “he was at my Joining, an Orlesian Warden from Montsimmard or Jader, I think. I’m sorry, I don’t remember which.”
 
Blake studied the older man. “Orlais? I thought all the Orlesian Grey Wardens were turned away by Loghain. Where are the rest of you?”
 
“You are correct in that we were indeed refused entry into Ferelden. This came as a surprise since King Cailan himself invited us but then we heard that the Grey Wardens were being blamed for his death. It was decided that one of us should try to slip into Ferelden and find out what was happening. I volunteered. I am Fereldan, born in Highever, and a friend of Duncan’s. We joined at the same time and we felt I might have the best chance of success. Running into you here is fortuitous indeed.”
 
“I have some questions of my own, if you don’t mind coming with me,” Blake answered him. He turned to the others who were watching with interest, “Alistair, Package, come with me. The rest of you, please salvage anything useable and take it near the old Highway entrance. Later Bodahn and Sandal can bring the cart and we can load up. I noticed a number of items we can use or sell and we’ll be better equipped.” He moved off with Package and his fellow Wardens.
 
“What about Cailan?” Alistair asked.
 
“I haven’t forgotten him, don’t worry. I would prefer to take care of the other business so we can focus on him when we send him off to the Maker. He deserves that much.” Blake thought about the timing of events before he spoke again, “Riordan, Loghain must have sent the orders to refuse you entry some time before the battle here, which means he planned for Cailan’s death weeks if not months ahead of time.” He went on to detail for the older man exactly what happened. By the time he was finished they were back at the mage’s camp.
 
“It is truly a shame that a great man would let blind hatred lead him down such a dishonorable road. I am glad you were able to find the old treaties. Grey Wardens are not supposed to involve themselves in politics but I do not see that you have much choice if we wish to contain this Blight. There have been increased sightings of darkspawn along the borders of Orlais and into the Free Marches though the focus remains here in Ferelden.” Riordan hesitated before continuing, “I have other things to do here and in Denerim, Grey Warden business I wish to discuss with you.” Delicately he nodded his head at Jannasilane.
 
Blake and Alistair looked at each other and grinned before looking back at Riordan, “Don’t worry about Package,” Blake laughed. “She probably knows more about Grey Wardens than either of us.” He shrugged then, “you knew her father, Duncan. But if we are going to talk Warden stuff . . . Package, I don’t think there’s much but why don’t you check out the circle up there where we defeated the first group of darkspawn. There’s too many of us here to search for the key, we’ll end up stepping on each other. Or worse we’ll step on you.”
 
“Now you make fun of my lack of inches,” she stretched herself as tall as she could.
 
“I assure you, Package, you don’t lack inches, now go,” he laughed when she looked at him in perplexity before rolling her eyes and scampering off.
 
The three men watched her leave. Alistair spoke first, “you know, one of these days she is going to understand everything you and Zevran have ever said to her and take you down.” Blake just grinned wickedly. Alistair scowled, “that is so not what I meant and you know it.”
 
“She is refreshing, an exuberant and charming young woman,” Riordan commented. “To the business at hand, my friends. My first duty is to make a list of all the Wardens who died here and notify my Commander. She will then do whatever needs to be done. The compound in the Palace is, or should I say was, not the only Grey Warden site in Denerim. We have a hidden arms cache near the Market District and a small apartment in one of the less affluent parts of Denerim.” He sketched out the locations and told them how to get inside. “You must be circumspect if you go to either location. I doubt that Loghain knows about them but I need to ascertain this for myself. I have some contacts, friends of the Wardens, and may need to be in Denerim some weeks gathering information.”
 
“Once we’re done here we’re going to Redcliffe to get Arl Eamon’s support. He was Cailan’s uncle. Why don’t you meet with us there before you head to Denerim? We should have some news for you and you can stock up on supplies,” Blake suggested. “Neither Alistair nor I have been Grey Wardens for even a year. We know a Grey Warden has to kill the Archdemon and about the nightmares, lower fertility, increased stamina, appetite and healing, the Calling and a shorter lifespan. Is there anything else to know or watch out for? Does it matter how we kill the Archdemon or only that it be a Grey Warden?”
 
“Be it by arrow, magic, sword or axe; be it in the head, heart or throat the only thing that matters is that the killing blow be by a Warden. Beyond that I think you already know the important part, to be firm in your beliefs, protect people from their own ignorance, and be as loyal as you can to your brothers, even knowing that you'll share their deaths." Riordan sighed, “This you do even though it seems an impossible task at times. I think I will do as you suggest and go to Redcliffe once I am done here. Do not wait for me if you are ready to move elsewhere. Once I am finished in Denerim I will return to Redcliffe and wait for you unless circumstances suggest otherwise, I gather it will be safer for you to resupply there than so close to Loghain.”
 
Alistair suggested he leave or look for any messages with Bann Teagan or Arl Eamon. “Yes, that would be good. I shall go see if the little one found anything and make sure she is alright while you look for whatever it is you seek,” with a smile and a slight bow he walked away from them. Alistair brooded a bit, he thought he detected a personal interest in Riordan’s last statement but realized he had no right to do anything about it.
 
Jannasilane was standing at the edge of the circle overlooking the Wilds and the Tower while the wind played with her hair. Riordan admired the scene a moment before he quietly walked up to join her. She didn’t turn around, kept her eyes on the world before her, “Hello, Riordan, I suppose this means you are done with your Warden business.”
 
He cocked his head as he studied her, “Indeed we are, little one. How is it you know it was me instead of Alistair or Blake?”
 
She turned then and smiled up at him. He wasn’t as tall either of her Wardens, about average height which meant she didn’t have to crane her neck as much to see his face. He wasn’t a young man, of course, but he was fit. His fighting skills were testimony to that. Dark brown eyes returned her gaze politely, reserved yet warm. She didn’t sense layers of secrets as she had when first meeting Leliana, Morrigan or Zevran but rather the aura of a man used to being on his guard and keeping information close to him. Guarding his secrets rather than practicing deceit. He was an attractive man with a worn elegance in his manner and the lines of his face. She continued to study him as she finally answered, “I have been traveling with them long enough to know their, hmm, their mental scent I guess is the best way to describe it. You are Grey Warden but not Alistair and not Blake, your Wardenness is much stronger than theirs.”
 
“I do not understand this ability of yours, but then it is hard for me to believe Duncan had a child and kept it secret all these years. He was good at guarding secrets entrusted to him, but I knew him as well as any. You are a lovely young woman and Duncan would have been a Warden for many years,” Riordan didn’t disbelieve her, the resemblance was there in the line of her jaw and strength of her chin if you knew where to look. He had only to remember the young fellow recruit; Duncan didn’t have his beard then, for a comparison. The Duncan he knew would not have turned his back on a child he fathered by some miracle.
 
“My mother said he was traveling a lot on many errands for his Commander or the First. They were friendly but there was never a, er, formal arrangement between them. She said he was very dedicated to the Grey Wardens and she wasn’t at all surprised when he was made Warden-Commander of Ferelden. He was away when she realized she was pregnant. She knew he would not marry her, or at least not want to marry her. So she left without ever telling him about me. You were a friend of his, perhaps you knew my mother as well? Alessandra-”
 
“Alessandra Alenahaella? She is a lovely woman, you have her eyes, little one,” Riordan cut in. “I remember her; I think Duncan cared more than she realized. He was distraught for several days when he found she left. Her note simply said that she wished him well and would always remember him but she was needed elsewhere. He took it to mean her skills with healing potions.” Riordan thought back to that time and considered. “I believe, though, that your mother was right about his sense of duty. By then he had come to fully embrace all that being a Grey Warden means, including the sacrifices which might have to be made. Some Grey Wardens do marry, but this happens rarely, and Duncan would not have been one of them. How does your mother fare?” he regretted asking as soon as he saw the grief in her eyes.
 
“She and my stepfather died in a fire shortly before I met the Wardens on the road to Lothering,” she explained briefly. “Would you be willing to tell me about Duncan? We were planning to meet him in Denerim before the fire. I’d like to know more about him,” she put her hand on his arm.
 
“Duncan was my friend, I would be honored to regale his daughter with stories of his time in the Wardens and perhaps even of his misspent youth,” he could not help but smile at her. “I wish to ask you something about Blake. I do not wish to make him uncomfortable but I am curious as to his relationship to the late Teyrn of Highever. I grew up there and remember Bryce Cousland before he married and I joined the Grey Wardens.”
 
She looked away from him then, “The Teyrn was Blake’s father. He was in the castle when Howe’s murderers attacked. Duncan, Duncan was also there looking for recruits and managed to get Blake away before Howe or his men tracked him down.” Jannasilane looked back at him, “if you and Teyrn Cousland were friends Blake might like to hear about his father as a young man. Did he also have a ‘misspent youth?’”
 
“It would not be right for me to tell you before Blake. Shall we return, my lady little one?” he crooked his arm for her and lifted an eyebrow when she started to put her arm in his then retreated. “Is something wrong?”
 
“I am sorry, I mean no offense, it is just that I am allergic to non-dragon leather,” she flushed with embarrassment that she might have offended him.
 
“Ah,” Riordan took off his glove, “then may I take your hand as I would if I were a high Orlesian noble and you a high Orlesian lady?” She giggled then and allowed him to take her hand. It wasn’t like when Alistair used to hold her hand; Riordan took the tips of her fingers and lightly grasped them so that her hand was resting on top of his. Together they rejoined the other Wardens.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 22: Goodbye, My King   
 
Jannasilane still had her hand in Riordan’s when they returned to her Wardens. In her other hand she carried a silver chalice. She held it up and marveled at the workmanship. A design had been etched into the silver so that it shone as if it were encrusted with diamonds. “Why would the darkspawn throw this aside?” she asked with wonder as she traced the circlet of griffons around the base. “It was not in either the sack or crate I found.”
 
Alistair was glad she was no longer holding hands with Riordan, “That’s Duncan’s, he used it for Joinings,” Alistair answered. “Maybe the darkspawn sensed its purpose and discarded it,” he suggested.
 
“Do you want it, Alistair? Blake?” she asked.
 
“No, I don’t need any more reminders of my Joining,” Blake pointed to his amulet.
 
Alistair shook his head, “I think you should keep it, Janna. I’d like a keepsake if we find one, but he was your father. You should have it.”
 
She smiled happily, the first true smile in days. Alistair blinked; he’d almost forgotten how radiant she was when she smiled. “I would like that. Thank you, Ali. Perhaps I should keep an eye out for something more suited for a ‘manly man,’” she teased. He grinned; happy that maybe they could at least be friends again. Assuming he could ignore the lust surging through him at her smile.
 
“I appreciate that. I’m glad you finally realize I’m a manly man, Package,” Blake intervened with a straight face. He was almost as happy as Alistair that tension was easing between his two friends. Jannasilane snorted and carefully put away the chalice. This was not going to be added to the loot they’d scavenge and sell. Wynne, Morrigan and General Lee joined them then. Blake looked at the newcomers and held up a key. “We found the key to the Royal Chest. There were a lot more statues than either of us remembered but we found it. We found a fair amount of supplies and equipment worth salvaging as well. I want to save whatever coin we get until we absolutely need to spend it. We still have a lot to do.”
 
“I agree,” Morrigan said regally. She was glad to see that the Warden was finally seeing some sense though she was less glad to see Alistair and the play toy easier in each other’s company. “I suppose the elf’s charms have a limited appeal though I would think they would still be preferable to that fool templar,” she huffed to herself. “Although, maybe the older Warden can keep her occupied. He obviously finds her attractive and he is too old to be of any use to me.” She began calculating how she could push that female towards Riordan.
 
The quartermaster’s forge was one example they found of darkspawn ‘redecorating’ as Alistair referred to it. Leliana shivered, “It looks like some sort of altar and I do not wish to see what they worship.”
 
“Oh look, one of our chests is undamaged. I wish I had the key,” Wynne said.
 
Blake looked through his pockets, “Maybe this is it.” He then unlocked the chest and bowed, “Voilà.”
 
“I don’t think I’ll ask how you got that key, young man,” Wynne raised an eyebrow at the Grey Warden and then began looking through the chest, muttering to herself, “potions, herbs, good, good, amulets, ah . . . yes, I remember this.” She pulled out a staff and handed it to Morrigan, “I think you will be able to use this Morrigan. It’s more powerful than the one you have with you. Irving gave me one of his before I left and it’s quite good enough for my needs.”
 
Morrigan blinked when the staff was placed in her hands, “Yes, I can feel the power. Surely you want something in exchange.” She couldn’t believe someone would just hand over something so powerful and valuable. That simple statement told the others more about her relationship with Flemeth than anything she had volunteered in the weeks and months since joining the last two Fereldan Wardens.
 
“Morrigan,” Wynne chose her words carefully. The last thing she wanted was for the temperamental woman to sense the pity she felt, “with the enemies we’re facing it is best for all of us if each of us is as well-equipped as possible. Certainly if you remain with the Grey Wardens until the end you will have earned it.”
 
“I . . . thank you.” Rarely unsure of herself Morrigan said nothing more. She tried it out on the darkspawn altar and was more than satisfied with the results. She almost purred at how well it felt in her hands.
 
“Now to the Royal Arms Chest,” Alistair said. By now there party was back together and they all trooped behind the two young Wardens. Jannasilane remained at Riordan’s side, Zevran once again taking a protective stance near her. Alistair pulled out Maric’s sword, an exquisite example of the best artisan's work.
 
“That is one sexy blade you hold in your hand, Alistair,” Zevran couldn’t help exclaiming. “I would love to have it in my hands.” Alistair looked at him, certain there was a double meaning but Zevran’s eyes were glued covetously on the gleaming blue blade. Carefully he slid it into its protective sheath and put it next to him. There were a few other things in the chest, some gold, some gems. He felt around for the mechanism to open the secret compartment Elric mentioned. “Blake, you try, you’re more skilled with devious devices than I am.”
 
“Thank you for noticing,” Blake said drily. Alistair shrugged his shoulders and moved aside, hovering anxiously to see what Blake might uncover. Blake concentrated and delicately moved his fingers over the bottom and sides, especially where two planes met. He felt a slight difference in one corner and pressed. There was an almost inaudible click as a seam loosened. Quickly he pried it open, he looked up at Alistair and smirked, “Do you want to read them or shall I?”
 
Alistair grabbed them and started reading, “Here it is, she pledged the support of her chevaliers to help defeat the Blight. Help which will never come now,” he commented bitterly.
 
Wynne tried to soothe him while Blake read the letters, “Never is a very long time, Alistair. Once some time has passed and cooler heads prevail perhaps there will be peace between Ferelden and Orlais.”
 
“I hope we both live to see it, Wynne,” he replied.
 
Blake finished reading the letters and carefully folded and put them away in his pack. “Cailan and the Empress seemed to be on friendly terms,” he said lightly. He looked at Riordan then.
 
Riordan nodded, “Yes, there were rumors that the two leaders were quite comfortable with each other, even shared a mutual fondness.”
 
“Well that’s good, isn’t it? The next king might be able to build on what Cailan began,” Alistair stated.
 
Blake raised an eyebrow, “Possibly, though maybe not as easily as you think.” Riordan also had a twinkle in his eye. Only General Lee, Alistair and Jannasilane did not get the implications in Blake’s statements. “Alistair is really going to have to ditch that naïveté soon or he’ll be eaten alive. Speaking of eating . . .” his gaze shifted to Zevran. Something sparked between them when their eyes met. The elf was the first to look away. Blake wondered about that but put it aside so they could deal with Cailan.
 
They returned to the center of the bridge and looked up at the former king with varying emotions. “Ugh, they left him to rot,” Alistair muttered with pained disgust.
 
“He looks so beautiful,” Jannasilane whispered. Alistair turned around and looked at her in disbelief, as did some of the others. Morrigan snorted in amusement.
 
Leliana was surprised enough to look more closely, “What do . . . oh, I see what you mean. If you look past what was done to him his expression is one of beauty and grace. I think the darkspawn would not have displayed him so if they realized this was the result.”
 
Riordan looked thoughtfully at the small woman next to Alistair and Blake. “Duncan’s daughter, I need to remember that. She is a surprising young woman to be sure.” He lifted his eyes to the dead king and tried to see what Jannasilane saw, “Hmm, yes, if I use my imagination to remove the insults to his body . . . there it is. Duncan was fond of Cailan because of Maric as much as anything. I think he would have been pleased with his daughter’s observation. Her beauty is fiercer than her mother’s and not as obvious, yet it calls to me. Perhaps I have been alone too long; I am almost old enough to be her grandfather.” He ended his reverie and helped take Cailan down and carry him to what used to be Duncan’s fire near the royal enclave.
 
As the only survivors of Ostagar Blake, Alistair and Wynne set the torches to the pyre. Behind them Leliana quoted from the Chant of Light and softly played an old Ferelden dirge. Morrigan stayed away. As far as she was concerned the dead man was a fool who walked into his death and she would not honor a fool. Sten watched from a distance. He didn’t approve of the time being wasted and didn’t understand this preoccupation with a dead husk. Qunari understood that it was just an empty shell and had no more value. Humans had a lot to learn.
 
Zevran was watching the Warden from the shadows. Blake was unlike any man he had ever met, certainly any nobleman. He was confident and could even be arrogant but wasn’t pompous or full of his own importance. He was a natural leader. Yet he was also flexible and more open-minded than he was used to in nobles, well nobles interested in more than their own pleasures. Those sorts of ‘nobles’ would do anything in pursuit of pleasure and were always an easy mark. The Warden was pragmatic, was willing to bend his morals as needed for the cause but at core was strongly principled and wouldn’t cross certain lines. He had too much willpower to bed a handsome, willing elf such as himself just because of mutual attraction. And there was no longer any doubt in his mind that Blake wanted to be with him.
 
Which brought him to the other reason he was brooding. Ever since becoming a member of the Warden’s traveling companions he had felt unsettled, unlike his normal self. When he had a job he would do anything necessary to fulfill the contract and never felt guilty. Then the Warden allowed him to live. Never, until the Warden, had he set out to destroy an innocent in the pursuit of his own pleasurable goals. He had always been willing to take what was available or offered, even pursue his desires directly but take any rejection philosophically. He did not like himself for his actions to the delectable Jannasilane. “I could accept a straightforward seduction. When I first saw her I thought of ways to seduce her, get my hands on those curves and tangled in that wild hair of hers. When did I put that aside in favor of the Warden, even though he is proving difficult? In the past I would have shrugged it off and reveled in the attentions of soft flesh and abundant curves. She is a warm, exciting and surprisingly sensual woman. I would have been more than satisfied to have her in my bed for as many nights as we both wished. Now I can’t bear to be with the Warden or Pocket Goddess, not with all this guilt. The pain in her face haunts me still. It is most annoying.”
 
Alistair was the last one standing by the funeral pyre. He didn’t know why he felt compelled to stand there alone. Cailan and he weren’t close, he hardly knew the man, though there were times when Cailan came looking for Duncan and found Alistair instead. They talked then, a little. The king was a busy man after all. From those talks he knew that they shared a love of cheese and silly jokes. Cailan asked him how he felt about being a Grey Warden and nodded his head in understanding when Alistair haltingly explained that he felt it was a good fit for him, that it was an honorable profession. “I can hear his response even now, ‘I’ve often thought about what it would be like, to have one duty that none can argue with. I can’t imagine any of the Bannorn saying we should try to reason with the darkspawn instead of destroying them.’ For the first time I wondered if Cailan’s fascination with the Grey Wardens was a release for him from the pressures of being king, the politics, the endless bickering of the Bannorn, the unrelenting duty and tedium of governing. I wouldn’t want that job, why would anybody?” Finally he saluted the king one last time and joined the others.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 23:  Riordan Tells Some Tales
 
Leliana was asking Riordan for any news from Orlais and Wynne was sitting nearby just listening to the chatter. She looked tired but seemed to enjoy the talk around her. Blake was sitting nearby with General Lee. Sometimes he looked at Riordan, sometimes he watched Zevran but mostly he stared into the fire. Sten and Morrigan were on opposite sides and a slight distance away. Jannasilane didn’t say anything just looked up when Alistair sat down next to her. “You said you were from Highever. Is your family still there?”
 
“It has been some time since I heard from them. Traveling with the Grey Wardens does not make it easy to stay in contact, you understand. My father did some tailoring when he could and the rest of the time he and my mother ran a small shop, mostly dry goods. My sister and her husband run it now. Perhaps you are familiar with them? Peasegoods is their name.” Riordan let Blake think about it and continued when recognition lit his face. “My brother joined the Teyrn’s army. He preferred being among those who traveled the Cousland lands and keeping them free from bandits and the like. He married the daughter of a farmer near Highever. Her brother owns the farm now but they have a small house on the property. It works very well for the two of them. He likes the bit of travelling he does but has the satisfaction of knowing that his wife and their children have a stable home. He never had the yen to travel any further than that. My feet were a bit itchier and I decided to see what opportunities awaited me elsewhere.”
 
“Did you know my father?” Blake and Jannasilane asked simultaneously. They looked at each other and snickered.
 
Riordan’s eyes twinkled when he answered, “Yes and no. Though we were both born in Highever I did not meet Duncan until shortly before we became Grey Wardens. I met Bryce Cousland when his father brought him to my father’s shop for a new set of clothes suitable for his first Landsmeet. He had about as much interest in that as I did in cutting cloth and we discussed many things while our fathers did their business. He liked to hunt and fish, as did I, so in time we did so whenever our schedules allowed. He used to tease me about my efforts to get close to our game with stealth but stopped teasing when I began to be more successful than he. He was quite competitive, something he tempered with other nobles. As we grew older we sometimes drank together and hunted other game, as young men do.”
 
Blake whispered to Package, “He means wenching, looking for women, Package.”
 
She blushed and said, “I know,” though in truth she didn’t until he explained. Then she had a thought and whispered back, “I guess he wasn’t like you then.” She blushed more furiously and wouldn’t look at Blake after she said it.
 
Blake’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Alistair was startled as well but the look on their leader’s face broke him and he simply guffawed. Zevran couldn’t help chuckling as well. Leliana thought she looked adorable, blushing so hard over saying something naughty. The way Blake and Zevran teased her sometimes it was about time she zinged back. Riordan didn’t hear what they said to each other but he did find it refreshing to see the exchange between the young people.
 
Morrigan joined the others when Riordan began talking in the hopes she would learn something useful. She didn’t speak until the laughter died down. “You are an attractive man, I imagine you were quite successful when you were ‘hunting,’” she purred silkily. She decided her comment had the desired affect when Alistair glared and the Wardens’ toy looked at Riordan with female approval.
 
Riordan inclined his head, “Thank you. It has been a long time since I have enjoyed the compliments of a beautiful woman.” He turned his attention back to the Warden. “It was a casual friendship we shared, one neither of us figured would last once we followed our separate destinies. You could say we were more in the nature of friendly acquaintances when we did see each other. The last time was fifteen, twenty years ago. He was settled in his role as Teyrn and seemed comfortable and happy. I was visiting my family and we ran into each other while he was with your mother, an attractive and intelligent woman. I am truly sorry for your loss. They were well-liked and respected by the people of Highever,” Riordan offered his condolences. Blake accepted them quietly but Riordan noticed how hard he was grasping the hand Jannasilane offered in sympathy. They obviously weren’t lovers and he wondered what sort of bond there was between them but he kept his questions to himself.
 
After a moment during which he collected himself Blake asked about Duncan. “You said you didn’t know Duncan in Highever, how did you meet?”
 
“I was in Val Royeaux with some other recruits. We were only waiting for Warden-Commander Genevieve. There was a delay and only later did I discover Duncan was the cause. Commander Genevieve and some of the senior Wardens finally came to us with a scruffy young man in tow. He was a couple years younger than I and looked like one of the street rats common in Val Royeaux                   and that is how I met Duncan.” By this time the others had wandered off, leaving only the Wardens and Jannasilane.
 
“How was he recruited, do you know?” Jannasilane wanted to know more about the Warden who fathered her. Alistair was also interested.
 
Riordan hesitated before answering but decided Duncan would want his daughter to know the truth. “He was not so much recruited as conscripted before he could be executed for murder.” Nothing he said could have surprised them more.
 
“Duncan conscripted? A murderer? There must be some sort of mistake,” Alistair shook his head in disbelief. Jannasilane and Blake were startled as well.
 
“I did not know all the details right away, you understand, but you feel a special camaraderie with those who Joined with you. Duncan’s family moved to Val Royeaux when he was very young and died not many years later. He and his uncle did not have a comfortable relationship and he was mostly on his own. He resorted to thievery to support himself. One night he was caught while breaking into a hotel room and fought with the occupant over a ring. He accidentally killed the man, was arrested and sentenced to be executed. Before his sentence could be carried out the Warden-Commander came to see him, the man he killed was a Grey Warden, and suggested that Duncan take his place instead of hang. Duncan refused.”
 
“Why? If he did not mean to kill then would this not be a more appropriate type of atonement than hanging?” a frown formed between her eyebrows as she tried to figure out his reasoning. She also wondered how much her mother knew.
 
“He was scared. Later he told me that before he died the man thanked Duncan for killing him. That’s why Duncan got scared, how bad could the life be if he was thanked for ending it? Duncan said he preferred a clean death to whatever horror awaited him. But the Warden-Commander was not one to take ‘no’ for an answer and she conscripted him. Many times after he tried to run away until one of the older Wardens told him that the dead man was not just a Grey Warden but the Commander’s fiancé and that the ring was purchased especially for her. After that, no more running. He became one of her more devoted Wardens, though he did keep his hands flexible with a little thievery now and again.” Riordan couldn’t help smiling at the memory. “We were healthy young men and occasionally went out together seeking company for an evening.”
 
“Is that why he was so dedicated? I never would have guessed Duncan was ever anything but serious about the darkspawn,” Alistair still had a hard time reconciling the Duncan he knew with the Duncan who was a thief and murderer, even if the murder was accidental.
 
“No, that came a bit later. He wanted to make up to the Commander for the wrongs he committed against her but something else happened which made him the absolute fighter of darkspawn you knew. I do not know the details, I know only that Commander Genevieve took a few Wardens, Duncan among them, on a specific task into the Deep Roads and most of the Wardens did not return. Duncan eventually told me they met a talking darkspawn, I think he said it called itself the Architect but would not say anymore, that he could not say anymore.” Alistair and Blake exchanged a look, remembering what Jannasilane told them at Soldier’s Peak. “Whatever happened changed him, he understood before the rest of us the importance of what we do and the types of sacrifices we might have to make. Only with his recruits did he allow himself to relax and display any fondness.” He looked at Jannasilane then, “this was a few years before he met your mother. I seriously doubt he told her any of this, by then he I doubt he ever thought of the rebellious young man he used to be.”
 
“I wonder if that’s why he recruited Daveth,” Blake muttered. Alistair snorted at that while Riordan and Jannasilane looked at him with questions in their eyes. Blake smiled crookedly, “Daveth was a sneak thief in Denerim. He made the mistake of cutting Duncan’s purse but Duncan was faster than he expected. If the guard hadn’t caught him he said Duncan would have. Apparently the guard was looking for him, probably to hang him. Instead Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription. Daveth was committed to fighting the darkspawn; I have to give him that. He would have liked you, Package, and I think you would have liked him.”
 
“Of course he would have liked her,” Alistair retorted, “before you came he spent all his time trying to . . . err . . . um . . . flirt, that’s it, flirt with every female he could talk to.” Blake smirked at his discomfort and rolled his eyes in reproof at the same time making him realize how uncomplimentary that sounded to Jannasilane. “I mean, that is, you’re beautiful and sexy and of course he would have tried to flirt with you even if he didn’t flirt with everybody else and . . . and I think I will just stop talking.”
 
Trying not very hard to stifle his amusement Riordan took some pity on the young warrior, “Now that it’s been established that Duncan’s daughter is a lovely young lady,” he bowed in her direction, “I shall get a little something more to eat.”
 
“I’ll come with you, if you don’t mind, Riordan,” Jannasilane got up and left with the older man.
 
“Talking darkspawn, that’s not good,” Alistair shook his head and watched gloomily as Jannasilane chattered away with Riordan.
 
Blake sighed, “Nothing we can do about it now. How long do darkspawn live? Maybe it’s dead by now. One thing we do know, they’re not common or Riordan would probably have heard of more than one.” He looked into the dwindling pyre where Cailan’s remains lay and brooded.
 
Alistair too stared into the funeral pyre. He preferred that to watching Jannasilane talking to another man, even if it was another Warden, maybe especially because of that. It didn’t matter that she was probably asking questions about Duncan.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 24: A Late Admission 
 
Morning dawned a wintry gray over Ostagar. The Wardens and companions quickly loaded the items onto Bodahn’s cart before saying good-bye to Riordan. “Are you sure you do not wish one of us to stay and help, Riordan?” Jannasilane asked.
 
“No, little one. Your help clearing out the darkspawn is enough. One day, two at the most and I will be finished here and head to Redcliffe as discussed. If we do not meet again then we shall assuredly do so later. It has been my pleasure to meet Duncan’s daughter and his latest recruit,” he smiled at her even as he refused her offer of assistance. He took his leave of the others and went back to the fields of battle to identify the dead.
 
Blake and Alistair were glad to leave Ostagar and all its memories behind them. Wynne was as eager as they were to leave and nobody was inclined to linger though Jannasilane did turn around to watch Riordan leave. “He is handsome, is he not? I can hardly blame you for a second look,” Morrigan said, keeping her eyes on the distant Warden. She didn’t change the direction of her gaze even when she noticed the Wardens’ toy looking at her in surprise and suspicion. Instead she sighed as if regretting an opportunity lost and moved on.
 
They trudged through the snow. The first days the farther they moved away from Ostagar and Riordan the more darkspawn they fought. “At least Riordan should have an easier path to Redcliffe,” Jannasilane thought. She looked forward to seeing him again and hoped she would have the opportunity to ask him questions about her mother and Duncan. Alessandra had told her daughter very little about him.
 
Once they were clear of the darkspawn they made good progress. The closer they got to Redcliffe the more nervous or wary both Alistair and Jannasilane seemed. Leliana and Jannasilane were a bit ahead of the others, scouting. Leliana smiled to herself, thinking of a conversation she’d had with the young girl next to her. It was before Ostagar and after Zevran’s seduction. In a strange way his callous behavior cemented the growing friendship between the two women.
 
Leliana kept close to Jannasilane. She knew without being told that Zevran had seduced the younger woman. She could also tell that her friend was hurting and suspected Zevran’s actions simply added a layer of new hurt over the old. What surprised her was that the assassin felt bad about what he had done. She doubted anybody else noticed but she was a trained observer and little things gave him away, such as the way he looked at Jannasilane with only the briefest of glances and started positioning himself to protect her in battle as well as the Warden. He kept his distance but performed little acts of, well, she supposed kindness was as good a word as any; little things such as making sure she had a cup of fresh coffee in the morning or if he found berries he placed them near her but was careful not to have direct contact with her. Leliana knew the elf wasn’t interested in Jannasilane romantically. He probably didn’t realize how often his brooding gaze studied the Warden.
 
When they were far enough away from Ostagar they made proper camp for the night. All of them could use the rest. Tensions were high between Jannasilane and Alistair and it was only with a great deal of restraint that she kept herself from snapping at him when he said something about stopping for the night. The redhead was close enough to see that Jannasilane’s eyes, bruised with regret, followed him as he moved away. As soon as they found a good camp site Leliana volunteered her services and those of Jannasilane, to look for firewood and anything which might augment their dinner. Jannasilane trudged along without complaint.
 
As soon as the two women were out of earshot of the others Leliana decided it was time to speak, “I am sorry Zevran hurt you, Janna. He seems to be as well, for what that is worth. I hope his actions did not make things more difficult between you and Alistair.”
 
“I, what . . . how did you know? Does everybody know?” Jannasilane’s voice was full of distress and then she shook her head and looked away. “It doesn’t matter, Alistair was already disgusted so I do not see how Zevran could have done more harm.” At Leliana’s sympathetic expression and willingness to listen the whole story came out in a disconnected rush. Everything from the morning Alistair pulled away from her to the ugly truth behind Zevran’s seduction. Leliana wrapped her arms around Jannasilane’s shoulders and laid her cheek against the top of Jannasilane’s head.
 
“I am so sorry. I like Alistair and can only hope you misunderstood. I think you are an adorable couple and it always made me smile to look at you. As for Zevran . . .”Leliana sighed, “he is an experienced man in many ways. It is one thing to be with someone and realize it was a mistake; but to be with someone only to be told you were unimportant and not the reason for the seduction . . . that is a blow to anybody’s pride and self-esteem. You certainly did nothing to deserve his cruelty. Alistair knows something, he is still very attuned to you no matter what else he might be feeling. Blake might guess something, he is very clever as well as observant but he is very difficult to read. Those dark grey eyes give very little away.”
“I don’t think I’d want to play against him in a card game,” Jannasilane agreed.
 
“If you wish to talk any further my tent is always open to you,” Leliana said with a smile. She cocked her head, “Do you ever think about braids or pulling your hair back?” They continued gathering wood while filling the air with feminine chatter.
 
“Have you noticed that there are fewer birds in the air the closer we get to Redcliffe?” Jannasilane muttered quietly. “Other wildlife seems to be scarcer as well. I don’t think it is because of the darkspawn.”
 
Leliana nodded thoughtfully, “I too have noticed this. Perhaps hunters? Having to go further from home? Not all merchants are as intrepid as our friend, Bodahn.”
 
“Doubt it, but I suppose we’ll know soon enough. I’m beginning to think that if something weird is happening somewhere we’ll be the ones to trip over it,” Blake joined the two women. “If we’re lucky we may reach Redcliffe by tomorrow night but certainly by the day after. I wouldn’t mind a beer or three in the tavern. From what I remember the one in Redcliffe is small but decent.”
 
“I have never had beer, before. I think I would like to try some,” Jannasilane said.
 
“Never?” Blake threw his arm across her shoulders, “I’ll buy the first round then, but you have to promise me something,” he paused until he had her full attention, “if I get drunk you’ll take advantage of me.” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer.
 
“You want me to take all your money? Or maybe strand you naked in the yard . . . or I could also -” that was as far as she got before he clapped his hand over her mouth. He shook his head, laughing.
 
“I like the ‘naked in the yard’ idea,” Zevran couldn’t resist chiming in. “Have you ever run over the rooftops in nothing but your skin?” Blake’s eyes practically crossed at the visions conjured up by the Antivan but he wouldn’t look in that direction.
 
Jannasilane looked at him doubtfully, “That doesn’t sound very comfortable.”
 
Zevran was relieved she was speaking to him without cringing, “It was not, Pocket Goddess, of that I can assure you.”
 
Gradually they spread out again. They were making good progress but Blake didn’t think they would reach Redcliffe that night. Inwardly he sighed. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was looking forward to a pint or two. He thought they would all appreciate the opportunity to sleep in a bed that wasn’t on the ground and under a roof which didn’t leak or let the wind blow in to chill them through their bedrolls. Funny about Package, the cold just didn’t seem to bother her, at least not nearly as much as it did the rest of them. For all his size Sten probably suffered the most, even more than Zevran.
 
They set up camp for the night. Alistair was antsy all evening but refused to say what was bothering him so Blake left him alone. He knew the templar well enough by now to know he would tell him soon and that prying would only make him flustered.
 
Alistair knew the time had come to tell Blake the truth, he probably should have done so earlier but he didn’t see how it could possibly have made any difference. He was more concerned about what Jannasilane would think; things were still a bit strained between them. He had a hard time getting to sleep and even then he was troubled. The next morning, before Jannasilane woke he left the tent to find Blake. He nodded curtly to the assassin, whom he just knew had seduced and hurt her, and told Blake they needed to talk.
 
“You know, Alistair, conversations which start with ‘we need to talk’ never turn out well. I’m not going to like this, am I?” Blake demanded.
 
“Well, I never have,” the big blond muttered. “You remember how I told you Arl Eamon took me in, raised me?” Blake just waited silently for him to finish. “He didn’t do it because my mother was a serving maid at Redcliffe Castle but because . . . um,” Alistair closed his eyes and just blurted out the rest, “HediditbecausemyfatherwasKingMaric. There, now you know.”
 
“So you’re not just a bastard, you’re a royal bastard?” Blake snickered then sobered up, “Why didn’t you tell me before now? Don’t you think it was important for me to know?”
 
“Yes, maybe, probably . . . look, you knowing earlier wouldn’t have changed anything. Loghain still would have done what he did and blamed the Grey Wardens. Maybe it was a dumb thing to do but how do you tell somebody something like that?”
 
Blake shook his head, “Nuh-uh, you’ve had plenty of opportunities, Alistair, you just kept quiet. I didn’t think you could do that, to be honest.” Alistair flushed.
 
“Alright, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to treat me differently. I liked being just Alistair. As soon as somebody finds out they change. Even Duncan didn’t let me go into battle because of it. If it makes any difference, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
 
“I can accept that, my Prince,” Blake smirked at the disgruntled look on his friend’s face. “I suggest you tell Package. You probably should have said something to her first.”
 
What neither of them realized was that Jannasilane heard their entire conversation. The minute Alistair left the tent she was awake. Deciding she wanted some fresh air away from the others she crept out after him and sat behind a rock where she had a good view of forest and the night sky. Of course Alistair and Blake moved there for their tête-à-tête and never knew she was right there. Jannasilane was stunned, “He’s royalty, a prince . . . no wonder he doesn’t want to be with me anymore. I’m just a commoner and a Griffonsong, not someone a noble could . . . He could have told me . . .” She couldn’t continue that thought, it was too painful. What she knew, if she could put it to words, was that the death knell sounded over her still faint hopes for a future with the big sunny warrior.
 
She didn’t move until she was sure they were gone and used that time to compose herself. She peeked around the boulder and saw that people were starting to stir but nobody was looking in her direction. She went back to their tent in a circular fashion and found Alistair waiting inside.
 
“Good, I’m glad you’re here,” Alistair began, “I thought you’d still be asleep, is anything wrong?” She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. He didn’t look as if he quite believed her but knew enough by now not to pry. “Jannasilane, there’s something I need to tell you. I told Blake first because he’s our leader but I also want you to hear it from me before you find out from somebody else. And you probably will once we’re in Redcliffe. My father,” he hesitated, stumbling a little under her serious gaze, “my father wasn’t just some nobody, or even just anybody. H-he was King Maric, which makes Cailan my half-brother, I guess.”
 
Before she could stop herself she blurted out, “And you didn’t trust me enough to tell me before now.” Behind the hurt her eyes accused him.
 
Alistair cringed at the hurt and pain she couldn’t prevent herself from showing, “No, no, no . . . it’s not that. We m-m-may not be as close as w-we were but there’s nobody I trust more. Not even B-blake and I c-couldn’t ask for a better friend. Look, let me try and explain. Arl Eamon raised me but it was made very clear to me early on that I should expect nothing, could hope for nothing, and would be nothing. That in no way, shape or form should I even think of capitalizing on my unfortunate birth. And I’m fine with that. I don’t know why anybody would even want to be king. But when people know they treat me differently. Instead of Alistair I’m the bastard prince and they either resent me because of it or worse treat me special. I liked being just Alistair, somebody who recently joined the Grey Wardens. With the Grey Wardens I finally felt I could make my way just as myself. At Soldier’s Peak,” he closed his eyes for a moment, this was as close as they had ever come to talking about her revelations, “I completely understood why you wanted a few days before t-telling me, us, everything. But it looks as if my birth is going to follow me wherever I go, whatever I do,” he said bitterly. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’m sorry I hurt you,” he hoped she understood he was apologizing for more than just his secrecy.
 
“I understand, though I wish you told me earlier, because you felt comfortable rather than because you couldn’t avoid it,” she answered finally. They were both silent for a few minutes until some of the tension dissipated. Jannasilane smiled weakly, “I never thought that one day I would sleep with a prince.” Alistair’s smile was pained, but he appreciated her attempt to lighten the mood. Before she left the tent she looked at him more seriously, “Alistair, I . . .” She shook her head and left her thoughts unsaid.