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[QueenPurpleScrap]

Real life is being very insistent lately which accounts for the recent and foreseeable future lag in updates. Thank you for your patience.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 25: Redcliffe at Last
 
They came upon the sturdy little house overlooking Redcliffe village. Alistair tortured himself with a brief vision of children playing in the yard while he fixed the roof and Jannasilane did something in the garden before Blake’s elbow nudged him. “Sorry, memories. I wonder where the family is who lived here, the place looks abandoned.”
 
Jannasilane was poking around and trying to see inside. “It has not been empty for long, Alistair. It is a nice house and obviously well-maintained. From what I can see there is not enough dust for them to have left a long time ago.” She then wandered over to the wall and looked down, “I like the view of the village. You can see almost everything from here and are close without being too close. Something is not right,” she frowned thoughtfully.
 
The Wardens and Leliana joined her and studied the picturesque scene in front of them. “Where are the children? Is it usually so quiet, Alistair?” the redhead softly inquired.
 
“You’re right; there should be a lot more activity this time of day. I remember that the yard in front of the Chantry was always busy with kids running around while men and women stopped to talk. See how a lot of the houses face the yard? There should be people going about their business but instead it looks all closed up. We need to find out what’s happening,” Alistair concluded.
 
Blake nodded towards the little bridge they’d have to cross, “I daresay that man will tell us.” They moved in that direction.
 
The man on sentry duty was more than a little nervous, “Have you come to help us with our troubles?” he asked with a hint of desperation. Blake’s answer that they’d heard the Arl was sick was met with a nervous outburst, “He could be dead for all we know! Nobody’s been able to get into the castle for days and at night we’re attacked.”
 
“Well that's just typical, isn't it?" Zevran remarked sardonically.
 
“What’s attacking you?” Alistair was blunt. The man, Tomas, took them to Bann Teagan for answers.
 
Bann Teagan was a comfortably attractive man with reddish hair and blue eyes. Jannasilane thought he must normally smile judging by the crinkles at his eyes and lines around his mouth. Right now he looked tired and harassed but was still polite to the strangers coming his way even as he demanded to know who they were. Before Blake could answer Alistair spoke up, “You remember me, Bann Teagan? Though the last time we saw each other I think I was covered in mud.”
 
The smile that lit up Teagan’s face made more than one of the women in the party take notice. Jannasilane was happy to see a friend of Alistair’s. “Alistair! You’re alive, this is good news. I thought all the Grey Wardens died at Ostagar along with my nephew.” He turned to Blake then, “You look familiar, ser, but I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Bann Teagan, Arl Eamon’s brother and Cailan’s uncle.” He held out his hand and Blake grasped it in a quick, firm handshake.
 
“You probably knew my father, Teyrn Cousland,” he replied with a smile. It was getting easier for him to say his father’s name without cringing inwardly or outwardly. “What seems to be happening here, Bann Teagan?”
 
Teagan then described Eamon’s illness which was eventually followed by nightly attacks on the village. They didn’t know what was causing them, only that the dead seemed to rise and each night there were more attackers than the previous one.
 
“Demon,” Jannasilane sighed.
 
“The toy is most likely correct,” Morrigan reluctantly agreed.
 
Wynne shook her head, “I’m afraid that is the most likely explanation.”
 
Bann Teagan looked from one woman to the other before settling his attention on Jannasilane. “I don’t understand how this could have happened but I daresay your experience is greater than mine. This is the first time I’ve faced such an unnatural situation.”
 
“Ha, it seems to be an amazingly common occurrence for us. When this Blight is over we could probably go into the demon busting business if all else fails,” Blake said drily. He questioned Teagan more closely and made some decisions. “Package, you stay here and talk to Teagan and the others in the Chantry. Maybe you can get some more details from people. I also want you to see if there’s any way to shore up the defenses in here. We’ll do our best, of course, to make sure none of the monsters get through but just in case . . .” He motioned the rest of them to leave the Chantry. Alistair looked back and scowled to see Jannasilane and Teagan with their heads close together. Blake elbowed him to get his attention, “She appears to be in very good hands, Alistair, and so does he. You don’t have any claim on her, remember?” Alistair flushed at the uncomfortable truth in that statement.
 
“Bann Teagan,” Teagan looked down at the young woman speaking to him, “has you or anybody else tried leaving to get help?”
 
“I cannot leave the villagers, my lady, there are precious few fighters left to defend them and we are trying to train the remaining villagers to defend themselves but it is no easy task. I suppose they will have to consider this practice for the battles which lie ahead with the darkspawn, if one can truly be prepared for them. Some did try to leave during the day, but we found out they were attacked as well. It’s as if someone; something wants this village and every one in it dead. I will continue to stay here in the Chantry as a last defense for the women and children. Ser Perth and Murdock can reach me at any time and I have complete confidence in their abilities. Ser Perth has been a knight in Eamon’s service for several years; recently he returned from his quest for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Do you know of this?”
 
“I have heard something of the quest,” Jannasilane replied cautiously. “We met one of your knights in Lothering before it fell.”
 
“Yes . . . I don’t know if it was a wise decision but Isolde was growing desperate and she’s a pious woman. She hired another tutor for Connor, their nine year old son, some months ago. Eamon fell ill well before the loss at Ostagar and I do not look forward to telling him of that or what has happened. The attacks by the walking dead began just a few nights ago. Are you a Grey Warden as well, my lady? Is that how you met Alistair?” He thought she looked rather young to be travelling without her family, much less a Grey Warden but he wasn’t sure. He was sure only that she was charming and attractive in a rather exotic fashion. He was fascinated by her hair which seemed almost a living creature the way it flowed around her.
 
“No, I’m no Warden, though my father was. I met Blake and Alistair between Ostagar and Lothering while having a mild disagreement with some rather annoying darkspawn. I have traveled with them since. Do you have a family of your own, other than Eamon?” she couldn’t help asking. She liked being around the older man, not because he was attractive but because even though he was obviously in a difficult situation he still exuded an aura of good nature.
 
Teagan was a bit startled and a bit flattered by the question, “Oh, you mean am I married . . . well, no though I would consider myself fortunate indeed to have found someone as lovely and charming as yourself.” He was pleased with the blush he caused and continued, “Dare I ask what of you, my lady, surely there is someone awaiting your return?”
 
Jannasilane hesitated as she thought how to answer and if Teagan hadn’t been looking so closely he would have missed the sorrow or regret which briefly flashed in the back of her eyes. “No, I suppose you could say I am bound to helping the Grey Wardens but that is all.”
 
“I find that difficult to believe, but please forgive my boldness, my lady,” he gave her a shallow bow.
 
“There is nothing to forgive, Bann Teagan, and please just call me Jannasilane. I’m no lady of noble birth,” she added, flattered by his attentions.
 
“You are a lady in every way that matters and I will only call you Jannasilane if you dispense with the title and simply call me Teagan. I can’t think what else I can tell you of these attacks. There seem to be more of them with each onslaught and I fear tonight will be the worse yet. Have you truly had much experience with demons? I find it difficult to believe that one so young could be so battle-hardened. Could it possibly be something else at the root of this evil?”
 
“It, I can only say it feels like a demon instead of a necromancer or blood mage or anything else. I’ll know better tonight when the attack comes,” she shrugged with a nonchalance earned only by someone who was indeed very experienced in the area. Teagan was impressed and intrigued.
 
Blake, Alistair and Zevran approached Murdock. The others were busy seeing what else was available to help in defense of the village. They would meet in front of the windmill where Ser Perth stood watch before returning to the Chantry. After speaking to the rather taciturn mayor they opted to approach the dwarf he spoke of and try to enlist his help. Zevran decided it was time to stir the waters, “What do you know of this Bann Teagan, Alistair? Is he a good man?”
 
“Ye-e-es,” Alistair replied slowly, “When I was little and living in Redcliffe he always had a kind word and would sneak me treats when Isolde was being particularly unfriendly. Why do you want to know? He’s not going to be interested in you, you know. You are definitely not his type,” he added snidely.
 
“Oh, I was not thinking of myself,” the elf was cheerful. “I merely wondered if he was good enough for the pocket goddess. It looked to me as if he was well on the way to being quite taken with her abundant charms.” When Alistair glowered at him he feigned astonishment, “Do you not think so? Well, perhaps I am wrong. It would be a good match in Antiva.”
 
Blake decided to help stir the pot, “Have to agree with Zevran on this one. Teagan is well-respected as much for his affability as his basic common sense and I never saw him lacking for female companionship. Elissa had a crush on him, heck, so did I at one point. Thankfully he never knew about either of us. One of the joys of being awkward is that social ineptitude can cover a variety of sins as long as it isn’t too obvious and doesn’t go on for too long,” he gave a pointed stare at Alistair.
 
“Humph,” Alistair grunted but said nothing that would give either of them an excuse to make fun of him anymore.
 
“Eloquent as always my stalwart friend,” Zevran rolled his eyes and turned his attention to their leader. “So, you like older men, do you? I cannot envision you being awkward, Warden. On the other hand I can see how you might be taken by a likeable and mature man, such as your Bann Teagan.”
 
“My tastes have changed since I was a growing boy,” Blake let his eyes linger over the Antivan for a moment, his meaning quite clear. Then he grinned, “Don’t worry, Alistair, we’re not going to a wedding any time soon. Even Teagan doesn’t work that fast.” Blake didn’t miss the flush of anger staining the other man’s cheeks and mentally smiled to himself. There was more than one way to kick some sense into that stubborn head. He wasn’t going to let Alistair keep hurting Package with his indecisiveness. He knocked on Dwyn’s door, effectively ending the conversation.
 
By the time they met back in the Chantry all had been done that could be done. Blake charmed some amulets from Mother Hannah for Ser Perth and his knights; Ser Perth was setting up the oil in order to set the creatures aflame; Dwyn and Lloyd were both convinced to fight and Owen was busy at his forge once again. Teagan and Jannasilane were chattering like old friends, which thrilled Morrigan and irritated Alistair. As far as the witch was concerned Teagan was as good as Riordan for her purposes. “Bann Teagan, we’re as set for tonight as we can be. Now we just need to decide how best we can deploy our services,” Blake said.
 
“Teagan told me that the attacks have mostly been coming from near the bridge where we met Tomas. I do not know if that is because they lack the numbers to divide their efforts or the intelligence to do so. It might also be that the farther from the demon they are the less control it has over its victims,” Jannasilane concluded.
 
“Teagan, is it? They certainly got friendly fast,” Alistair thought but didn’t say anything.
 
Teagan looked at the young woman he knew he could become very fond of, “Why do you call them victims?”
 
Jannasilane was surprised, “Are they not? They were men and women who served your brother and died in that service. Now their bodies, instead of being treated with respect are being used to hurt their friends, neighbors, even family members. Surely this would not be their wish. I know we need to stop them but when all is over should we not remember this?”
 
Blake brushed his hand over her hair but it was Alistair who spoke, “You’re right, Janna, they’ve been victimized twice.” Alistair’s gaze was warm when it rested on her. She flushed at the expression in his eyes and then turned away, confused.
 
“Oh-ho, so that’s the way of it. What did Alistair do to make her think there was nothing there? Idiot,” he thought with more fondness than Morrigan had when she thought of Alistair as such. Then Teagan sighed, he liked Jannasilane and had hoped to convince her to stay in Redcliffe awhile. Before he fell ill Eamon had been hinting that it was past time he found a wife and had children of his own. He never told his brother that he found Isolde the best argument against marriage. These thoughts flashed through his brain quickly and never showed in his expression. “I look forward to discussing this with you in more detail after the battle, Jannasilane,” he smiled warmly at his new friend and then turned to Blake. “Do you have any ideas, Warden?”
 
Blake’s eyes were dancing with suppressed mirth even as he answered soberly, “Alistair, Morrigan, Leliana and I will wait with Ser Perth. Sten, you’ll station yourself on that end of the defenders here and Zevran over here at this end. General Lee will be in the middle at the front. The archers will have no trouble shooting over him. Wynne, I want you to stay back and keep everybody healthy. Package, I want you on the porch. If any get this far you’re quick enough to take care of them before they can get inside. And if you get surrounded your voice will still them long enough for help to get to you.”
 
Teagan took offense at that, “Warden, I don’t think insults are necessary. The Lady Jannasilane is a lovely young woman and it is ill-mannered of you to suggest that her voice is some sort of horror.”
 
The others looked at him in surprise and then some started chuckling, which simply confused the Bann. Even Jannasilane was smiling. She took his hand and her smile increased in warmth, “Thank you, Teagan, for defending me, but in this case no insult was intended. Blake was not speaking of my normal voice,” at this she sniffed and raised an eyebrow at the still smirking rogue, “at least he better not mean that.” Blake tilted his head at her and she turned her gaze back to the Bann whose hand she was still holding, “I have this ability, a particular kind of shout, which can have a paralyzing or stunning ability on those close to me. Alistair calls it a directed shriek. You would not appreciate a demonstration.”
 
Teagan bowed and kissed the back of her hand, “if you say no insult was meant then I take back my rebuke. I admit it is hard for me to fathom such an unattractive sound as you describe coming from such a lovely throat.”
 
Alistair was trying very hard not to grit his teeth, but it was hard when he wanted to grab her away from the older man and declare that she was his. He was definitely ready when Blake signaled it was time for them to join the knights at the windmill but Leliana and Morrigan didn’t improve his mood when they both started sighing over Teagan. “It was so romantic, how quickly Bann Teagan came to her defense when he thought she was being insulted. So many men look and sound foolish when they say something like that.”
 
“For once I agree,” Morrigan’s participation surprised the others. “I think perhaps it was because of the sincerity behind his remarks. I daresay he is not one to indulge in idle flattery and he certainly seems taken by the toy.”
 
“Ser Perth!” Blake called before Alistair could explode. He knew it was probably wrong to take such amusement from his friend’s predicament, but he would be the first to admit he wasn’t perfect. “We’ll be here with you.” The knight was glad to see them and they settled down to wait for the next siege. They didn’t have long to wait.
 
In the middle of the village the others waited. When evening came the villagers not fighting entered the Chantry. Jannasilane verified with Bann Teagan that all were accounted for and slipped back outside to resume her position the porch so she could better search the growing shadows. Lloyd moved to stand next to Jannasilane; he hadn’t met her before and was curious. She was curvy like Bella and since she wasn’t wearing armor like the redhead he decided she was probably some strumpet following the Grey Wardens who happened to be handy with a blade. In Lloyd’s world strumpets were good for a squeeze and a quick tumble in the back room or alley, nothing more. “So, you travel with the Grey Wardens, must be kind of exciting,” he said without looking at her. “Guess it’s handy for them to have a girl like you around, nice and friendly.” He glanced down at her to see her looking perplexed. “Silly tart, thinks she can pull the innocent act on me,” he continued to look at her, “You are friends right, good friends? Maybe if we survive I could show you a few things at the tavern, stuff I keep in the back unless someone comes in who travels around like you do,” he added with grin that was halfway to a leer. Fortunately for him it was too dark for her to see him that well.
 
Jannasilane didn’t care for him and thought he had an unusual way of talking but answered politely, “Yes, we are good friends. If there is time perhaps I will look at your stock.” She didn’t say anything else but did breathe more easily when he moved away. “That was odd, I wonder if I missed something. Perhaps I should talk to Leliana or Blake.” She shrugged and forgot all about it when they heard the sounds of battle at the top of the hill. Everybody was quickly too busy to think of anything but fighting the corpses coming their way.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 26:  The Source of the Plague
 
At his request Jannasilane accompanied Bann Teagan to the windmill after the night’s fighting gave way to victory with dawn’s arrival. “‘Twould appear your Bann is smitten with your toy, Warden,” Morrigan addressed Blake rather than Alistair as she rubbed salt into the templar’s wounds. She noticed the fool watching Teagan walk away with the toy’s arm in his and his wince at her words. “She seems to enjoy his company as well.”
 
“Yes, so it appears,” Blake answered mildly, hiding his annoyance, “Maker, when will she cut herself on that tongue of hers? She’s got enough venom to fell an entire division of darkspawn.” He looked at the witch then, “Why do you keep calling her a toy?”
 
“Why do you keep calling her ‘Package?’” Morrigan demanded and moved away so she wouldn’t have to answer any more asinine questions.
 
“Walked right into that one,” Blake knew it was pointless to pursue the argument and was annoyed with himself for even bringing it up. Package was more than capable of dealing with Morrigan if she chose. “I suggest in a few minutes we meet Bann Teagan. If you need healing, take care of it. I need to talk to a few people first.”
 
“It is beautiful and looks so peaceful from here,” Jannasilane commented with her gaze on the lake and the castle, mountains in the distance.
 
“Even more so today,” Teagan answered with his eyes on the young woman standing next to him. “I owe you and the Wardens an apology, Jannasilane.” He waited until she was looking at him, questions in her intriguing eyes. “I know a way into the castle but I didn’t tell the Warden. I will when he and the others arrive, but I wanted to apologize to you first. I feel we’ve become friends even in such a short period of time and I don’t like that I lied to you.”
 
“I feel the same, Teagan, but why did you not tell us this before?” she was curious but not upset.
 
“Yes, I’d like to know that as well,” Blake’s tone was as dry as the ashes from the fires burning the corpses from last night.
 
“Forgive me, Warden, but I knew you would want to go into the castle immediately and I have a duty to protect the villagers. Thanks to you and your companions we can safely leave them while we find out what is wrong with Eamon or if any even survive. There is a -” his attention was diverted by somebody calling his name.
 
They all looked towards the woman running towards Teagan, obviously a noblewoman by her dress and Orlesian by her accent. She ignored the strangers as she placed herself close to Teagan and put her hands on his arm in a pleading gesture, “Teagan, I am so glad you are alive. You must come with me, Connor . . . Connor needs you. Please, Teagan, I beg of you.”
 
“Isolde! We were afraid everybody was dead, how is my brother?” Teagan demanded.
 
“He is alive, so far. An evil force has invaded the castle and is keeping him alive from the poison infecting him for now, as long as we do what he says. But you must hurry Teagan, I do not have much time,” She was unaware that her fingers were digging into his arm.
 
“Poison, you say Eamon was poisoned? How?” Teagan hadn’t expected that.
 
“The tutor we hired for Connor, he was a, how you say, an infiltrator. He poisoned my husband and, but I must return.” She was becoming incoherent.
 
Blake spoke up then, “Yes, I think we should go and introduce ourselves. Is it a demon?”
 
“A d-demon, Maker no! Teagan must come alone, if I bring back anybody else Eamon might die and Connor . . .”
 
“You’re hiding something,” Jannasilane spoke up for the first time since the other woman first flew down the path. Her eyes were flat as she stared up at Isolde.
 
Isolde reared back and looked down her nose at the young woman standing next to Teagan, “I beg your pardon that is a rather impertinent thing to say. Who is this woman, these people, Teagan?” the flash in her eyes betrayed her arrogance.
 
“Not impertinent if it’s true,” Blake said.
 
At the same time Alistair responded with a deep sigh, “You remember me, Lady Isolde?”
 
“Alistair!” The pure dislike in her voice caused Jannasilane to stiffen with outrage as the woman continued, “Of all the – what are you doing here?”
 
Teagan hurriedly interrupted, “Isolde, Alistair and his friends saved the village. We would all be dead by now if it weren’t for them.”
 
“I beg your pardon,” dismissively she turned back to her brother-in-law, “Teagan, please, we must hurry.”
 
“Very well, wait by the gate. I must talk to the Warden privately,” Teagan directed her. Pleased she was getting her way Isolde left them, admonishing Teagan once again to hurry. Shaking his head Teagan waited until she was out of earshot before speaking, “I must go. But I have no illusions about being able to deal with whatever is there alone. Warden, take my ring, it opens a secret door in the windmill and a passage into the castle. If you choose to go Ser Perth will wait at the gates for you to open them. Whatever you find inside Eamon is the priority. Me, Connor, the rest of us are expendable.”
 
“No, we will find a way,” Jannasilane protested.
 
Teagan smiled at her resignedly, “The Maker smiled on me indeed when he sent you here. If only,” he quickly turned away to join Isolde and go to the castle.
 
“We’ll do our best, Package. Too many have died for us not to try and save as many as we can,” Blake said quietly with a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him gratefully and then snickered when he added, “besides, I want to see Isolde pay for whatever she’s done. I’ll bet you a pound of candied nuts that she’s involved somehow. Sten, I’d like you, General Lee and Leliana to stay here in the village. Some of our weapons and armor need to be repaired and now that Owen is back in business you can get it done while we are at the castle. Leliana, keep an eye on Berwick. I don’t want him leaving Redcliffe.” He led the rest of them into the windmill and down the secret passage.
 
“Why would somebody build a tunnel under the lake?” Morrigan wanted to know.
 
“Many castles have secret escape tunnels for the family in case of attack, my lovely Morrigan. In my line of work I have frequently found them to be handy entrance tunnels,” Zevran answered. “And may I say that I am glad your loveliness is with us to banish the gloom. May I hold on to you? I get scared in dank cellars.”
 
“More idle flattery,” she snorted, though not as strongly as before.
 
It took a little while to get to the other end of the tunnel and the going was a little slippery on the way down. Jannasilane started to giggle the third time somebody slipped. “You think it’s funny for us to be falling down, Package?” Blake growled with a mock glower.
 
“No, no, I was just thinking it would be fun to slide down. Sit on top of a greased shield and go.”
 
Blake grinned, “Sure, give us your shield, Alistair. Package can go first.”
 
“Will you two be serious?” Wynne admonished.
 
“You ask for the impossible, old mage,” Morrigan snorted. “They probably haven’t considered that the tunnel is likely not straight and they would run into a wall or that coming back up would be that much more difficult.” She refused to acknowledge the small voice in the back of her mind telling her that it would be fun.
 
“Have you ever been sledding, Morrigan?” Jannasilane asked. “There was a hill not far from our farm and sometimes my father would take me there after a snow, the proper type of snow, and we would sit on top of a large, round wooden shield he polished beforehand and let it take us down. Each time was faster than before.”
 
Morrigan didn’t answer at first and when she did she sounded a bit wistful, “I can see where that might be fun, however Flemeth was not into games or doing anything for simple amusement. She might make a game out of a necessity when I was a child but everything was a lesson in survival or furthering my studies.” Her voice turned brisk, “My skills are probably more advanced because of it and have proven quite useful so I won’t say I regret it.” The last thing she wanted was any sympathy.
 
“I’ve been sledding,” Wynne interjected. The others looked at her in surprise and she couldn’t help chuckling, “I haven’t always been an old woman, I was once young and adventurous like you.”
 
“Did you have your magical bosom then?” Zevran asked slyly.
 
“Stop talking about my bosom,” she huffed. “Now what . . . oh yes, sledding. I was at the Circle, a little younger than you, Janna, and it was a very cold winter. Lake Calenhad froze for possibly the first time – certainly the only time in my memory, and then it snowed day and night. When it stopped the world as I knew it was truly beautiful dressed in nature’s magic. I forget who started it but soon many of us were sledding down the hill and over the lake. Even some of the younger templars.” She chuckled at the memory, “It was fun, the cold air blowing into our faces and hair. The difficult walk back was part of the enjoyment. Of course, all things must end and one of the more recent apprentices lost some control and sparks flew like lightning until the snow on both the lake and the hill around the Circle was alight with electricity, dangerous but incredibly beautiful. The Maker himself probably saw us, or so we said. Fortunately enough older mages were supervising and nobody was hurt. We were all hustled inside to stand near warm fires and drink hot tea or cider. I don’t think any of us ever forgot that day so many years ago.” She smiled at the memory, the young girl she was peeking at her companions through the face of the old woman.
 
“You truly enjoy the cold, Pocket Goddess, it is hard for me to understand,” Zevran shook his head.
 
Jannasilane lifted her head proudly, “I am Fereldan.”
 
“Well said, Package, though you may like the cold more than most. We’re almost near the end, I wonder if the climb up will be as long as the climb down on the other end,” Blake mused. Slowly they made their way to the top, Alistair in the rear so he wouldn’t crush anybody if he slipped and fell. Morrigan muttered something about him being a clumsy oaf but there wasn’t much heat in it since she was having a hard time herself. Only Jannasilane seemed unaffected and practically pranced her way uphill. “Package, I swear you must be part mountain goat,” Blake grouched. When she just grinned at him his eyes narrowed, “or perhaps it’s because you’re so short the ground thinks you’ve already fallen.” She wrinkled her nose and lightly danced to the top as if mocking him.
 
Unfortunately that was the last bit amusement for some time. Jowan, the sorrowful mage, confirmed that Loghain tricked him into poisoning Eamon, saying the Arl was a threat to the nation. He offered to help any way he could and after Jannasilane confirmed the mage was telling the truth Blake decided to let him out of his cell with the proviso he assist any way he could and stay out of the way. Jowan was grateful not to be further harassed by reanimated corpses and to be out of his cell but he was not going to get any closer to the barefoot girl traveling with the Wardens. He admitted to himself that she rather creeped him out when she stared at him.
 
The bad part of getting closer to the demon causing havoc was its ability to call on stronger aid in the form of other demons instead of relying on the minimal skills of the walking dead. They fought their way through to the gates so Ser Perth and his knights could reinforce their group. Quickly they cleared the castle yard and made their way inside.
 
“By the Maker!” Ser Perth was aghast. None of them expected to see Teagan cavorting and chortling like a fool while a demon-child grinned and a defeated Isolde looked on. ‘Connor’ motioned Teagan to cease while he talked to his new guests. The Bann squatted at his nephew’s side like a well-trained dog though those close enough could see the struggle in his eyes.
 
“We’ve come to put a stop to you and the trouble you’re causing.” Connor-demon’s reaction to Blake’s announcement was to pit Teagan and the castle guards against Blake, Ser Perth and those accompanying him and then run away. Those under the demon’s thrall had the advantage; they weren’t trying to avoid serious damage to those they were attacking. Isolde tried to shrink into a corner while wringing her hands helplessly. When Teagan sliced open Jannasilane’s leg Alistair practically threw him against the wall. Teagan slumped into a pile on the stone floor. In desperation Jannasilane shrieked to try to disorient those enthralled and hoped she didn’t hurt anybody too much in the confined space.
 
It worked, the fighting stopped and quickly as she could she limped to Teagan’s side where he was starting to stir. When Isolde rushed over, crying, “Teagan, Teagan,” Jannasilane snarled at her, growled really, stopping the Orlesian mid-step. She turned back to the Bann and helped him to his feet. Alistair watched, brooded and pouted, but he didn’t interfere.
 
“It’s good to be myself again,” Teagan started to say and rubbed the back of his head. He saw the blood on Jannasilane’s leg, “You’re hurt!” He picked her up and deposited her on a bench so he could examine the wound more closely. Wynne’s ears were still ringing but she moved to the Bann’s side.
 
“Don’t worry, Bann Teagan, it’s a clean cut and easily mended,” she reassured Teagan as well as the Wardens.
 
“Good thing she’s faster than you were,” Alistair grunted. He didn’t think about Teagan’s reaction to his statement but a small part of him, one he wasn’t proud of, was happy at the other man’s obvious dismay.
 
Teagan paled, “I’m the one who hurt you? I’m so sorry, Jannasilane, you have to know that’s the last thing I would want to do. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
 
“Do not fret, Teagan,” she smiled as Wynne sent some healing energy into her. “It is not your fault but the fault of that demon inside Connor. Besides,” Jannasilane glared at Alistair for his insensitivity, “one cannot travel with Grey Wardens fighting darkspawn without incurring damage at times.”
 
“Speaking of Connor, he’s the danger you’ve been hiding,” Blake turned on Isolde. “I knew you were involved with the troubles here but I didn’t think you would let a demon kill all these people. Where is Arl Eamon and where is Connor? Start talking now, Arlessa,” his voice was as cold as Wynne’s frozen lake.
 
Isolde puffed up with outrage at his tone but one look at Teagan, sitting by that, that impertinent girl and looking at her with narrowed eyes told her she would get no help from him. “I did not summon a demon, it was that mage. First he poisoned my husband and then the demons came. All I wanted was to keep my son home instead of sending him to the Circle, which Eamon would do if he knew. Was that such a terrible thing?” she cried.
 
“And Eamon knew nothing?” Teagan asked watching her closely.
 
“If he knew he would only insist on doing ‘the right thing,’ but why is it the right thing to send a child away from home?” she asked bitterly.
 
“I think recent events have answered that question,” Blake said pointedly. After more wailing and deflections from Isolde they finally got the whole story. Connor showed signs of being a mage and she didn’t want to send her little boy to the Circle. Loghain said he knew of a mage looking for a tutoring position and she leapt at the chance. The tutor began teaching Connor a little magic and poisoned her husband. Somehow Connor made contact with a demon and the demon was keeping her husband alive but at a terrible price. “Connor is not always like what you saw, sometimes his true self is able to come through and that is why he ran away. Please, you must help him,” she was practically incoherent.
 
“I’m sorry, my lady, Connor is an abomination now,” Jowan spoke up from the back. Bravely he moved forward to face the woman he wronged, “if somebody could go into the Fade and fight then there might be a chance to save him, but not much of one. But that would take lots of lyrium and several mages or . . . or blood magic. I know a ritual. It uses the life force of another, but it’s not a very good option since it uses the entire life source.”
 
Lady Isolde stood straight and firm when she answered, “Then take mine. He is my son and I will not let him die.”
 
“How can more blood magic be a good thing?” Alistair asked in irritation.
 
“Alistair is right; The Circle owes me a favor so we’ll ask them. Some of us will stay here with Jowan and keep an eye on Connor,” Blake decided.
 
“Please hurry, Warden. I don’t know how long we have before the demon becomes active again,” Teagan was concerned about Connor, about Eamon and balancing the needs of Redcliffe against their lives. He hoped he didn’t end up regretting the delay but felt he owed his brother at least that much.

Сообщение изменено: QueenPurpleScrap, 09 Июль 2013 - 03:23 .

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 27: Waiting for the Mages 
 
Jannasilane sighed. She already missed her Wardens and they were hardly out of sight. She didn’t regret missing another trip to the Circle, however. Just the thought of going back made her shudder. “Are you alright? Is your leg bothering you? I am so, so sorry I hurt you,” Teagan put his arm around her shoulders and helped her to a chair. He insisted on propping up her hurt leg and examining the wound to make sure it was healing.
 
She shook her head, “Teagan, I told you, I’m fine. It wasn’t your fault and I don’t blame you.”
 
Teagan patted her leg and looked her in the eye, “Maybe I like the excuse to touch you. You have very pretty legs and I feel guilty that I had any part in hurting them.” He lightly trailed his fingers over her ankle before removing them.
 
“Are you flirting with me, Teagan?” Jannasilane couldn’t help asking with wide eyes and a light blush.
 
“You are an interesting and attractive woman as well as a friend. Would you prefer that I stop?” he waited intently for her answer.
 
She tilted her head and considered what he was saying. “I think I would like to learn more about flirting. I also think you flatter me but I do not think I mind,” she answered him.
 
His mouth quirked just a bit at that, “The first thing you should learn is not to argue with a man when he calls you attractive.” He kissed the back of her hand and sat down next to her, close but not touching. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question? It’s rather soon but in these uncertain times I don’t want to wait until a more proper moment which might never come.”
 
She chewed her lip as she thought how to answer him, “I might not want to answer but I will not know if you do not ask.”
 
“Fair enough.” He just sat there looking at her for a few minutes, “you have the most extraordinary hair, it just begs a man to bury his hands in it,” he murmured half to himself. She blushed but didn’t say anything. “Is there a chance we could be together or are you in love with Alistair?” he asked bluntly. “I know he hurt you.”
 
“I think perhaps we hurt each other,” Jannasilane spoke slowly. “We were close but I do not know if I even understand enough to answer your question. I miss our friendship very much and hope that in time we can be friends again even though nothing more.” She took a deep breath before answering the other part of his query, “I do like you Teagan, and I find you attractive but I can make you no promises, not even the most basic ones. I explained as much to Alistair. Whether this is partly why he wants nothing more from me I cannot say. My duty and my destiny for the next few years lie with the Grey Wardens, which at the moment is Alistair, Blake and Riordan.”
 
“I’ve always been fond of Alistair but right now I think he’s a fool,” he twined a lock of her hair around his finger, marveling at the texture and sense of life. He looked her in the eye, “I would enjoy a more intimate relationship even if it’s just for now and count myself the richer for it.” Her eyes widened and she blushed but didn’t look or move away when he leaned in to kiss her, lightly at first. The pulse in her neck started to beat more rapidly and she leaned into him deepening their kiss. A few minutes later she broke away from him, confused by her response. Teagan let her go and watched the battle she waged within herself play out across her face. “I am not a fool, my dear, nor am I a raw boy with a simple outlook on the relations between a man and a woman. I will be honored if you decide to pursue this part of our friendship further, but I won’t hold it against you if you do not. Remember this; I will always be your friend.” He took his leave after squeezing her hand and giving her a promise to return after a room was made ready for her.
 
Jannasilane watched him leave, his stride confident and sure. She touched her fingers to her lips, reliving their kiss. She was a bit surprised but glad that he didn’t press her further. She believed him when he said he would be fine with her decision no matter what it turned out to be. “If Alistair and I had never . . . Even though I know it is over with Alistair I still want to be with him. When will it stop? Zevran, Zevran was a mistake even if he weren’t just playing some sort of game. I used to dream about one day, a few years from now, being able to make a promise to a man. I suppose it was stupid to think there was a chance for Alistair and I to stay together. How can I still want him and yet feel attracted to Teagan? Is this a sign that my Time will be more severe? No, I can’t. I do not want to be that person. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But would it be wrong?” She groaned and dropped her head onto her knees. “I think my head is going to spin off if I think on this any further. Connor-demon is quiet, maybe I shall go see what Lloyd has to offer. I doubt there is anything of interest to the Wardens in his back room but it is better than making myself crazy.” She spoke to Jowan and verified that Connor was quiet and likely to remain so for a while.
 
“You’re in a suspiciously good mood, Alistair,” Blake eyed him thoughtfully. “Is it getting away from Package or Isolde that lifted your spirits?” First Enchanter Irving agreed to help them try to free Connor from the demon’s grasp even though Knight-Commander Greagoir didn’t like it. Soon Wynne, Leliana, the First Enchanter and one of the senior templars would be returning by boat to Redcliffe so they could help prepare for the rest of the mages and to reassess the situation. More templars and mages would be returning with the Wardens and Sten while Morrigan opted to make her own arrangements.
 
“Both,” Alistair answered cheerfully to Blake’s surprise. They were combing the Tower for supplies and just to make sure no stray demon remained behind. Blake was also looking for a grimoire which reputedly once belonged to Flemeth, though he wasn’t sure if he would give it to Morrigan even if he did find it. “I really miss her,” before Blake could make any smart comments he clarified, “Jannasilane, not Isolde. Maker, I’ll be happy if I never see her again.” Blake bit back a chuckle at the relief in Alistair’s voice. He didn’t like Isolde any more than the warrior did and wondered how Package was faring. He’d put his money on Package any day of the week. Alistair haltingly continued his explanation, “I know how I feel about Jannasilane, now. I was worried that, because of, you know, I didn’t feel what I thought I felt, that her mere presence blinded me. I love her. There are still some issues but at least I can think of moving forward now. I just hope she doesn’t hate me.”
 
“Took you long enough to come to that conclusion,” Blake said sternly. “What other issues are there?”
 
Alistair looked around and thought about telling him, getting his advice but they heard footsteps and he remembered that the Circle Tower wasn’t a good place for discussing secrets, especially ones not his own. “Later, it’s personal and there are too many ears in the mages’ Circle.”
 
“I hope you don’t mean that literally, you just gave me a vision of ears floating from floor to floor, gathering secrets like a bird gathers twigs for its nest. And then there are eyeballs looking for papers and secret hideouts,” Blake could have gone on and on but Alistair stopped him.
 
“That’s enough creepy, thank you for sharing,” Alistair rolled his eyes. “I’ll be glad to leave here,” he muttered.
 
Jannasilane’d made her decision. She was leaving with Riordan. He was in the process of resupplying from whatever stores were available at the tavern and the castle and would be leaving first thing in the morning. Blake, Alistair and the others wouldn’t be back from the Circle until late the next evening at the earliest. Perhaps she was being a coward but she couldn’t stand any longer the cold shoulder she was getting from Alistair, broken by the occasional glimpse of former warmth. They’d see each other in Denerim and maybe he would be able to talk to her more like he used to. She missed the days of their friendship.
 
“Stealing from the Arl is a flogging offense,” Teagan’s pleasant voice startled Jannasilane into jumping up, banging her knee in the process. Teagan came around the desk in Eamon’s study, effectively sandwiching her between it and him. “Letters to Blake and Alistair, why don’t you just talk to them when they return? They won’t be gone long,” he sat down effectively blocking her escape. He eyed her with obvious appreciation; his eyes positively gleamed with desire when she licked her lips nervously. “I can’t get over how exciting your hair is, how sensual and alive,” he whispered and slid his hands to the back of her head and began massaging her scalp, bringing her head closer to his when she moaned in pleasure. “I would very much like to be with you tonight, if you have no objection, my lady,” he nibbled on her ear.
 
Jannasilane enjoyed the feelings he engendered. He was a very attractive man and kind. He was older, and might not be a great fighter but he was obviously fit. She was under no illusions. He wanted her and considered her a friend but he wasn’t going to pretend to be in love with her. She hadn’t felt wanted for herself since before she revealed the truth to the two Wardens. “I’m leaving in the morning to help Riordan, that’s why I was writing, to tell them” she said breathlessly.
 
Teagan sat back in surprise, “Is this what you want? If you don’t want to travel with Alistair and Blake you can stay here, with me. I wasn’t just making conversation last night; I would like you to stay and perhaps see if we suit. Marrying you would not be the worst decision I’ve ever made.” He thought about what he had just said, “That sounds less sincere than I mean. I’m not a young man looking to marry for love; most nobles don’t have the luxury. A friend, however, who is smart and sexy and kind, that’s the kind of woman I want to marry. A woman such as you, for instance.”
 
Tears didn’t fall when she spoke, but only because Jannasilane made the effort to prevent them, “Oh Teagan, I cannot marry you and I cannot stay. You deserve a woman who can make promises to you and keep them, and the vows of marriage are the most important of promises. For reasons I cannot speak there are duties which require my being with the Wardens. The Grey Wardens, not Alistair or Blake. If my duty were done I would seriously consider your offer but it is not and you must look for another.” She cupped the side of his face with her hand, “I think I will be jealous of her. You are a good man, as well as attractive and charming. If she does not value you I will be sorely put out.”
 
“Well, I can accept that for the moment. I will miss you; it’s hard to believe how fond I’ve become of you in such a short time. I will let you get back to your letters. You can leave them on the desk and I will see that your Wardens get them.”
 
Before he could stand Jannasilane wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He had a moment to savor the feel of her in his arms before she spoke, “I will miss you Teagan. Perhaps . . .” They heard Isolde gently shrieking in the distance.
 
Teagan sighed, “I better go before she wakes the bats. Until later, my dear.” He quickly stood and left.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 28: Leaving Redcliffe 
 
Alistair was eager to get back to Redcliffe and Jannasilane. There was no doubt in his mind anymore about how he felt. He loved her. He didn’t know what would happen with them, but going forward in some direction had to be better than the limbo and hurt he’d put them both through.
 
When they arrived Teagan gave him a funny look and he didn’t see Jannasilane at all. He started to worry then decided that their experience with the Tower and the demon inside Connor were too recent and she was staying away from the mages. He started to look for her but Blake stopped him. “We need to get this done now, Alistair. The demon has been quiet but won’t stay that way for long, not with all these mages around. Jowan has offered to go into the Fade, but there’s only enough lyrium for one mage to go in and if that doesn’t work we’ll have to consider his alternative.” Blake raised his hand to forestall any protests, “I don’t like the idea any more than you do so let’s pray that Wynne succeeds. Even Irving admits she’s our strongest hope. I’m glad Package isn’t in the hall, not just for her sake but Connor’s. We don’t understand her particular affinity well enough to know if her presence might somehow disrupt the magical energies of the ritual.”
 
Alistair let out his breath instead of protesting. He hadn’t thought of that. He certainly didn’t want either Jannasilane or Connor to be hurt. He resigned himself to more waiting and turned his attention to the ritual about to be performed. It wasn’t too different from a Harrowing, only instead of an apprentice being sent alone into the Fade the mages supporting Wynne would also paint runes of lyrium on each other in order to provide her a safety tether and a means to loan her their strength if she should need it. Wynne lay down on the floor and the supporting mages lay down in a circle around her. First Enchanter Irving guided their placement and then he and the remaining mages formed a looser outer circle and began chanting and tracing runes in the air. Alistair kept an eye on the templars, after what happened at the Tower he wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them were a little jittery.
 
Morrigan was intrigued by the elegance of the ritual. “Tis not the most direct path into the Fade, but the safety net being woven is quite remarkable. The one called First Enchanter is quite adept at monitoring and directing the energy created so no one mage is unduly burdened. Perhaps all their training isn’t useless. Too bad they allow themselves to be collared by the Chantry.”
 
All the mages and the magic in the air made Sten uncomfortable. If he were a lesser creature he would be squirming or shifting uncomfortably as some of the Redcliffe knights were doing. Or even find a way to not be there. He wondered where the small woman was and almost envied her for being absent.
 
Leliana, Blake and Zevran watched the ritual with interest from their various vantage points. The air above Wynne took on the color of lyrium and the Fade. Sometimes sparkles of energy flared and even though she looked asleep it was obvious to them that she was in a deeper state. Leliana thought it was rather like some of the ballets she had seen in Orlais and wondered if some dances had their origins in ancient rituals. She frowned a little as she considered that it might be possible to conduct some magic rituals in the guise of entertainment and resolved to learn a little more.
 
General Lee yawned and sneezed.
 
Everyone was relieved when Wynne was successful and the ceremony over. Isolde was crying with relief and hugging Connor as if she would never let him go. The templars and mages prepared to leave for the Circle. Teagan thanked them for coming and promised some assistance in rebuilding.
 
“Let’s find Jannasilane,” Alistair muttered. “Isolde actually smiled at me, I don’t want to be around when she comes to her senses.”
 
Blake slapped him on the back, “Ha, Teagan wants to talk to us and I’m sure he knows where she is. I’m rather looking forward to seeing the little minx. Come on, he’s in the family quarters with Connor and Isolde.” Teagan’s news wasn’t good. Connor appeared to be well but Eamon was still sick. Without the demon’s influence perhaps medicine and magic would have an affect but Teagan wasn’t convinced. Isolde smiled determinedly at the Wardens, making them both uncomfortable, and began insisting they must search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, that she was convinced they were the only ones capable of finding it. Brother Genitivi in Denerim had done considerable research and was certain they could be found. Blake finally stopped her, “We have to go to Denerim soon anyway, we’ll look him up once we are there and see what he has to say. That’s all I can promise,” he said firmly.
 
That was enough for Isolde. She was convinced they would be successful and didn’t hear the implied negative. Bann Teagan smiled wearily and motioned for them to follow him downstairs. “We will continue to try to heal Eamon without your help Wardens, though I don’t know how successful we will be. Connor seems his old self and doesn’t remember what happened, which I suppose is a blessing; when the country is more settled we shall send him to the Circle for training whether Isolde wishes it or not. I know you didn’t promise to search for the Urn but I think you will find that Genitivi’s research is promising . . .”
 
Alistair couldn’t wait any longer, “Bann Teagan, where is Jannasilane? I thought we would see her by now, surely she knows the mages are gone and she doesn’t need to stay away. Is something wrong?”
 
Teagan didn’t say anything as he continued to lead them downstairs and into the Chamberlain’s room, he only clenched his jaw. Once the three of them were inside the room he shut the door and punched Alistair in the face. Alistair staggered back and put his hand up to his cheek as if he couldn’t believe what just happened; he stared back at Teagan in a mixture of hurt, anger and surprise. “She’s gone Alistair,” the veins in Teagan’s neck pulsed with his anger, “I don’t know what you did to hurt her but she’s gone. She left with that other Grey Warden, Riordan. I even asked her to marry me; here in this room I held her and asked her to stay but she said ‘no.’ I can’t believe you are such a fool. Here, she wrote each of you a letter and I promised to deliver them to you.” He handed one to Blake and threw the other at the stunned warrior before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
 
“She’s gone?” Alistair whispered though he found it hard to breathe. Surely his heart stopped beating. In a daze he looked at the floor and slowly knelt down to pick up the letter she wrote him, praying it was all some sort of mad joke and she would pop out and yell ‘surprise’ but knowing he was fooling himself. He sat on the floor with a graceless thud, unable to stand and kept turning the letter and something else over and over, afraid to open it.
 
Blake sat down on the edge of the bed and kept one eye on Alistair while he read his own letter. She’d also left him some sort of wand or rod. It didn’t take long to read, she apologized but felt it best to go with Riordan just now and meet up with them later. Blake’s mood lifted. He didn’t think he could bear to lose his new ‘little sister’ and at least she should be safe with Riordan until they regrouped in Denerim and began to think the temporary separation would be a good thing for both her and Alistair. Maker knows the tension between them couldn’t go on without something breaking. He focused on the non-personal, “A golem? From what I’ve read one golem is worth a dozen warriors. Small as our group is I think we better go to Honnleath.” He folded up his letter and looked at Alistair, who still hadn’t made a move to read his own letter. “Alistair,” he hesitated when he saw the pain in the other man’s eyes, “I’ll leave you alone.” He left and closed the door behind him.
 
When he heard the soft click Alistair picked up the letter and opened it with trembling hands. Something wrapped in cloth dropped out and he picked it up but didn’t unwrap it while he read.
 
“Alistair,
 
I am so angry at you for hurting me when I did nothing to deserve your cold disdain. I knew sharing certain intimate details with you might mean the end of our relationship and thought I was prepared. They do make a normal relationship difficult if not impossible; I understand this. My only hope was that we would find a way to still be friends and then I saw the disgust in your eyes. Why? This I did not understand until you decided to inform us of your noble birth and realized that a Grey Warden might be willing to have certain friendships but a prince would not. I am a commoner and unable to make simple promises; as such I am unworthy of you as you realized for yourself. Somebody like me would cause many problems for a noble, much less a prince. Even so I do not understand the disdain or disgust; the anger I feel, the pain is tearing me apart.
 
Riordan is leaving for Denerim and I shall join with him. He can use my help and perhaps by the time we see each other again it won’t hurt so much. I refuse to regret our time together before Soldier’s Peak, Ali. For a while I felt treasured and hope that distance will calm our feelings so we can become friendly, if not friends.
 
I found this in Eamon’s desk. He must have begun to repair it years ago. It may not be as good as new but I did the best I could to finish what he started. I believe it is yours. I sometimes want to pluck your eyes out (and other parts) but I do want you to be happy even though it will not be with me. Maybe not right away, this is truth.
 
Do not die, Ali.
 
Jannasilane”
 
“What did I do?” Alistair whispered to the empty room. He thought he knew pain and grief when Duncan died, but this . . . this was hot and sharp, cold and merciless all at the same time. The bitter taste of fear ran through him, fear that he might never see her again; fear that he might find her only to be too late to tell her he loved her, fear that he had ruined the best thing to have ever happened to him. He bowed his head and smoothed out the painful missive. The words were smeared in places as if by tears and he didn’t know if they were hers or his. Carefully he folded it and tucked it away, the only thing she had ever written him.
 
After what seemed like ages where he sat still as stone he remembered the item which was with the letter. Slowly he unwrapped the small package and stared in surprise, “My mother’s amulet! I thought it was lost forever,” he picked it up and dangled it so he could see it better. It was obvious that all the repairs had been carefully done and only showed on the closest examination. “She wouldn’t have taken so much trouble and time if she didn’t care for me. I need to find out what I did and make it right, convince her that I love her and want to be with her no matter the difficulties.” Even in his own head he shied away from voicing the possibility of other men in her bed. He undid the clasp and tried to put the amulet on but he was a lot bigger now and he couldn’t even fit the chain around his neck. He scowled and then undid his Warden amulet. He wrapped his mother’s gift, now also Jannasilane’s gift to him, around the cord and secured it so it fell below the Warden vial and was able to wear it that way.
 
The Alistair who stood and left the room was a vastly different one from the one who entered it. He had a purpose, not just a job which he felt was worthy, but a personal goal. For the first time in his life he was determined to fight for his own happiness and the first step was to talk to Teagan. Fortunately Teagan was in Eamon’s study, taking care of business and waiting for Alistair to leave the Chamberlain’s room. The study was the first place he looked. He closed the door and leaned on the desk, “Are you in love with Jannasilane?” he asked bluntly.
 
Teagan was careful to keep his expression one of mild interest, “That’s rather personal, Alistair. Why do you ask?”
 
“Because I do love her and am going to do everything within my power to convince her of that and to come back to me. If that’s going to be a problem for you I would rather know now; you were always good to me and I don’t want to dishonor that by even the appearance of going behind your back. Do you love her?” Alistair asked again, struggling to ignore the visions of the Bann wrapped around his Janna in bed.
 
Teagan leaned back and smiled, “It’s about time you grew a set,” he said bluntly. At Alistair’s look of surprise he explained, “A lot of decisions were made for you and in spite of you when you were younger. But you’re not a child anymore and at some point a man has to take control of his own life, of his own choices. I am very fond of Janna and I did ask her to marry me but she turned me down. She said there were reasons and I suspect you are one of those reasons though she did not elaborate. I admit I was disappointed, we are friends and she is a very attractive young woman but I am not in love with her. I don’t know what you did, Alistair, but the cut went deep. I wish you luck but don’t know if you’ll be successful.”
 
“Neither do I but I have to try,” Alistair said slowly. “And there is nothing more you can tell me?” Teagan shook his head and watched Alistair leave. Sighing he returned to the distasteful job of the arling’s paperwork. He would be glad when Eamon was back on his feet. Being a Bann was enough for him.
 
Next Alistair went in search of Blake. Maybe Blake, who was vastly more experienced than he was, could tell him what he did wrong. One of the guards told him Blake was checking the battlements and that Zevran was also looking for him. Alistair grimaced but didn’t let the news deter him. He and Zevran found Blake at the same time, fortunately he was alone and nobody was in nearby.
 
“Blake –,” “Warden, I” the two began speaking at the same time.
 
“When do we leave for Denerim?” Alistair spoke quickly and glared at the Antivan. “I have to find Jannasilane.”
 
“I am glad you are here, Alistair. I need to speak to you both, I may be able to shed some light on why the pocket goddess felt compelled to leave,” Zevran had decided to confess his sins and hope neither Warden decided to kill him. His words certainly gave him their full attention; he only wished it was for other reasons. Cautiously the Antivan looked at Alistair and took a step away from him, “I know you hurt her, Alistair, though I don’t know how. I thought,” Zevran closed his eyes in shame, “I thought that as a result of your actions the lovely Jannasilane turned to our leader. I was, and this is a hard thing to admit because it has never happened before, I was jealous.” He opened his eyes and looked straight at the Warden. “I will understand if you wish me to leave your company, but I think you both need to know what happened. Jealousy is a new emotion for me; until I met you I was never intrigued enough to care if my interest was not returned. This feeling festered and I began to think that if I could somehow make her less in your eyes you would then return your interest to me. You have not acted on it but I do know when someone is interested in my handsome self,” he added with a somewhat shaky parody of his normal ****iness.
 
“I seduced her,” he stated baldly. “You suspected as much judging by your glares, Alistair. I am a very experienced man in the arts of seduction; it can be very useful in my line of work. An “innocent” touch here, a “casual” touch there, all carefully timed and placed to bring forth a woman’s desire without her being aware she is being manipulated. Almost any woman can be brought to the point of considering an assignation and believing that it is their choice to continue if one as skilled as I is willing to take the time. Since I found the pocket goddess desirable from our first meeting it was no hardship on my part. Her innocence and yes, her hurt, made it much easier for me as did her innate sensuality. She has no idea that the strong desire she felt was artificially created by my actions. Any qualms I had I pushed away. I will not go into details but when we were both quite satisfied I did a truly horrible thing. I looked at her lying flushed and beautiful against the green of the forest floor and mocked her. I let her know that our play was simply a means to an end and she was just a pawn.”
 
“You – you smarmy, Antivan assassin!” Alistair spat out the words and grabbed Zevran around the throat and lifted him off the ground, limiting his air supply. “How could you do that to her? To Blake? To anyone?”
 
Blake didn’t stop him; he was too stunned, hurt and angry. “Poor Package, no wonder she wanted a reprieve from us.” His lips curled in disgust, “I’d rather a knife in the back,” he muttered, not realizing he spoke aloud. “Why didn’t she tell me?” he demanded. “Alistair, loosen your grip, I want answers.” He waited until the warrior complied and once again asked, “Why didn’t she tell me?”
 
“Shame,” Alistair and Zevran answered together, surprising all three of them. Zevran continued, “She was embarrassed and ashamed as well as hurt. I, I was also shamed by my actions. It was quite clear to me from her reactions to my words that I had been incredibly, horribly wrong and had inflicted deliberate hurt on one of life’s innocents. Never have I done so before; it was a point of pride with me. It is easy to be proud when one has never faced the temptation. I should have listened to my inner doubts, perhaps I would still have seduced her but I would not have deliberately hurt her. I hurt her, I hurt myself, I hurt any chances for a friendship which I have since come to realize I would treasure, and I know by telling you I have burned any bridges leading to your bed and a closer relationship. I have been all kinds of a fool. I am no more used to feeling shame and guilt than I am jealousy. I do not excuse my actions; I merely explain how they occurred.” Taking a deep breath he turned to the warrior, “I understand why you want to kill me, Alistair; I probably deserve death for many reasons. Before you do, you should know that what I did merely added to the pain of your actions. In her words you had already made her feel like brothel trash.”
 
Surprised, Alistair dropped his hands from the elf, “What did I do?” He was truly puzzled because he didn’t see how his indecision could have made her feel that way.
 
“You do not know? Hmm,” Zevran replied. He kept an eye on Blake who stood silent since his one question. “I apologized to her and promised I would do my best to make things right, or as right as possible. She told me it was time for me to grow up, that I was old enough to be her father,” he couldn’t help wincing as he recounted her words.
 
“Bet that hurt,” Alistair muttered distractedly.
 
“Yes, but I was glad to see her spirit was not broken. There is more, however.” Blake cocked an eyebrow and Zevran hastily added, “It has nothing to do with any actions of mine.”
 
“Teagan told me he asked her to marry him,” Alistair shook his head, “but that’s not what you mean, is it?”
 
“No, but I am not surprised. He flirted quite openly with her and was honest in his intentions, although I would not be shocked if perhaps that added to the, how should I say it, the emotional tension of the pocket goddess. No, she went to see a man named Lloyd at the tavern. Before the battle he indicated to her he had some unusual items which might interest the Wardens so she decided to take a look. If she had spoken to me I would have gone with her for I did not trust his interest in her. He got her alone, mauled her and called her a ****.” Zevran’s eyes went flat with anger at the memory, the two Wardens looked equally angry, more so when Zevran continued. “She came out of his backroom before I could finish unlocking it, her clothes in disarray. There were bruises. He,” a wealth of contempt was in that single word, “was reeling from one of her shrieks. She was holding that rod,” Zevran pointed to the control rod Blake had stuffed in his belt.
 
“No wonder she left; travelling with Riordan must seem like a haven to her,” Blake shook his head. He pinned Zevran with a stormy gaze, “I don’t know if I can ever forgive what you did to her. Alistair’s an idiot and never meant to hurt her, but you did. You’ve been useful and I’ve noticed you watching her back more than once, but when we meet up again if I think your presence is a problem for her then you are gone. If I think you are acting in such a reprehensible manner again I will slit your throat myself and leave you for any crows which come along. Leave.”
 
The two Grey Wardens watched Zevran leave the battlements with fury, bafflement and sorrow. Before he left Zevran turned around and spoke to Alistair, “You should talk to Leliana. I believe the pocket goddess confided in her.”
 
Tentatively Alistair placed a hand on Blake’s shoulder, “I’m sorry, Blake. I know you liked him.”
 
Blake nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes still on the departing elf. “I still want him. Right now I want to bend him over the wall and pound into him, but as punishment. Maker, I must be desperate for release.”
 
“If you need some release you can pound on me if you like,” Alistair offered then flushed in horror, “n-n-not like that, I mean pound as in fight, not pound as in . . . p-pound.”
 
Blake laughed. His laughter had an edge of hysteria but it was laughter. He shook his head, “I know what you meant, Alistair. I’m afraid that just wouldn’t be the same thing.” After a moment he leaned back against the wall and looked at his friend. “You are an idiot, you know. Are you sure you don’t have a clue what you could have done?” Alistair shook his head miserably and leaned on the opposite wall. “We’re probably as alone as we can hope to be, what are the other issues causing problems with you and Package? I want to know everything, Alistair, no matter how embarrassing. You never know what might be important.”
 
“Right. I’m not breaking a confidence; she just wanted to tell me first. It’s a Warden/Griffonsong thing.” Alistair explained everything he knew about the Time of Becoming, for once not incoherent on a sex-related topic. Blake’s eyes opened wide as the templar explained everything and why he needed time to think. Alistair concluded, “I know for sure how I feel about her, but even if I can convince her to come back to me we still need to figure that out.”
 
Blake let out a long, slow whistle. “That is, well, I certainly did not expect that. No wonder she left with Riordan instead of staying with Teagan. At least Riordan seems like a decent sort, just in case . . .”
 
Alistair nodded glumly. That possibility had occurred to him and he was just going to have to live with it if they were going to have a chance together. “So, when do we leave for Denerim?”
 
“After we go to Honnleath to see a man about a golem,” Blake decided. “This will give you time to make some decisions and Package time to heal. She needs space from us, Alistair, all of us,” he forestalled the man from speaking. “But first we’re going to pay a visit to the tavern. Somebody needs to learn some manners, don’t you agree?” United they went to the village. Once they finished their ‘visit’ the two Wardens owned the tavern and put Bella in charge. Lloyd was grateful to be spared his life.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 29:  Time to See a Man About a Golem
 
Alistair was in a foul mood. Two days after leaving Redcliffe he finally had a chance to talk to Leliana alone. If Jannasilane confided in anyone other than Blake it would be the pretty redhead, Zevran was right about that. After some hemming and hawing he finally asked her if Jannasilane ever talked to her about them, why she thought he didn’t like her anymore. The redhead questioned him closely and when she was satisfied Alistair was truly clueless she told him. Alistair was bewildered, “I never . . . how could she think that? I apologized to her for my behavior but I was never angry or upset with her. I’ll admit I was disgusted with myself for being less than honorable. I tried to stay away because it wasn’t fair to her, not while I was unsure about so many things. Why didn’t she say something?”
 
Leliana finally took pity on him, “Other than a quick apology in the night did you ever speak to her? Or did you continue to avoid her as you had been? I am glad that she was mistaken, but you hurt her badly. A young girl’s self-esteem can be very fragile in matters of the heart. Regardless of your intention you were cruel.” She left him alone then, realizing he was badly shaken and needed to think.
 
“Leliana is right, I should have talked to her more. I was so busy being sorry for myself and considering my own feelings that I didn’t even think about hers. I am such a fool. And arrogant to think I had plenty of time to think and that she would meekly wait for me to make up my mind. Ha, there’s nothing meek about my Janna.”
 
Alistair’s mood didn’t improve when Wynne cornered him a few days later, “Alistair,” Wynne began when she was darning one of his socks, “I wish to speak with you. I noticed your growing relationship with Jannasilane and I am sorry for the pain you are feeling now but you must realize it is for the best. You are a Grey Warden, one of the only two Fereldan wardens who remain alive and have a responsibility. Love is ultimately selfish, a distraction, one you can ill afford in this crisis. What if you had to choose between saving Ferelden and saving your love? I know you don’t agree now, but one day I hope you see that I am correct and that this thought brings you some comfort.”
 
Alistair stared at her in disbelief and growing anger, “I have never in my life not done my duty, even when it was one not of my choosing. But I am a man, not just a Grey Warden and I have the right to a personal life.”
 
“I’m not going to lecture you, Alistair. I’ve given you my opinion and what you take from it is up to you,” Wynne replied stiffly.
 
“I believe you’re doing what you think is best,” he was angry but he struggled not to hurt her feelings. She’d been friendly to him from the beginning and he enjoyed what he considered her grandmotherly attention. He tried to smile as he left but didn’t know if he was successful or not.
 
Later that evening he and Blake were patrolling camp. Alistair was brooding and Blake was on edge, “So now you’re picking a fight with Wynne. Are you planning on alienating everyone in camp, Alistair? I understand why you avoid Zevran,” when he said the assassin’s name a keen observer would have seen the fleeting sadness, “but you try not to speak to Leliana and now you’re getting angry with Wynne. If you keep this up you won’t be able to stand yourself.”
 
“Look, Blake, I don’t need -” Alistair turned and slammed his fist into a tree. “I’m sorry, Wynne got on my nerves with her advice. She told me it was for the best that Jannasilane was gone because I can now concentrate on being a Grey Warden. Leliana just makes me feel guilty when she looks at me with those big blue eyes. I think she misses her too.”
 
Blake scowled, “Old busybody, she should have kept her mouth shut. Maker, I could use a good night’s sleep. I don’t know how you managed before Package, Alistair, I really don’t. I wish she were here, not understanding half of what I say when I tease her or flirt with her.”
 
Alistair sighed, “I’ll try to keep my brooding to a minimum. Morrigan has enough ammunition, no need to give her more. Are you sure we can’t just throw her at the darkspawn? One look from her would surely shrivel an ogre down to size.” Alistair hesitated, “I hate to bring this up, but are you okay about Zevran?”
 
Blake involuntarily turned his eyes toward the elf sitting in front of his tent cleaning his weapons. He too had been subdued since Package left, though whether it was because of her departure or his confession the Warden didn’t know. “I have to be, don’t I? Regardless of my personal feelings he’s a very useful member of our group, if only he weren’t so damned sexy. I just have to look at him and I start imagining all sorts of things we could be doing and then I imagine him with Package. I think he truly regrets what he did, but just the fact he was capable of such horrible behavior isn’t exactly endearing. A bit of danger is one thing . . .” he shrugged as if it didn’t matter but Alistair wasn’t fooled.
 
The next day Alistair made a point of talking to Leliana. After walking in silence for some moments he spoke up, “I’m sorry, Leliana. I know I haven’t been the most companionable person recently, especially with you.” Leliana looked at him and remained silent, her blue eyes missing nothing. “I want you to know I’m not angry with you, it’s just that after our last conversation every time I looked at you I felt guilty about Jannasilane. I never ever meant to hurt her. Thank you for telling me.”
 
Her eyes warmed, “I understand Alistair. When one receives unwelcome news one does not always want to speak to the messenger. I truly hope you are able to convince her that you love her, I think you are so cute together and she is good for you.” For the first time in days Alistair felt lighter, as if the black cloud he’d been under was now a less ominous shade of grey.
 
Morrigan was happy for the first time since the toy joined them. She didn’t mind that Alistair was miserable, that just added a fillip to her satisfaction. She didn’t even have to trouble herself to be snarky since he was being much quieter and therefore not making stupid comments. She didn’t understand why the Warden was miserable, but decided maybe they shared the toy in that large tent. In time he would be more likely to turn to her for some satisfaction and making it easier to implement her plan.
 
Sten wondered about these humans. The small one who was gone was an unusual fighter but not strictly necessary to their success yet her absence had a profound effect disproportionate to her size or contribution. It was distinctly odd. Among the Beresaad everyone knew their role and if one fell others would step in with little fuss. He was not even sure what to call her; each of his companions seemed to have their own name for her. How could one know their role when one did not know what one was called?
 
They neared Honnleath and were nearly run over by villagers escaping the darkspawn. The small village was crawling with darkspawn but fortunately th4ey were lower tier creatures who provided no real challenge. They approached the village center and stared at the unusual statue in the middle.
 
“Is that, is that a golem?” Leliana asked with wonder. “I have heard of them, the great dwarven creations designed to fight the darkspawn but have never seen one.”
 
“There is a damaged one in the basement store room of the Circle. I don’t think it’s been active in my lifetime but it does look very much like this,” Wynne replied.
 
Blake pulled out the control rod Package left for him and pointed it at the golem, “Dulef gar.” Nothing happened and he loudly repeated the command but golem, if it was a golem, remained motionless.
 
“So we have wasted more time when we have an Archdemon to find?” Sten asked. He didn’t really expect an answer and wasn’t disappointed.
 
“I sense more darkspawn, I think from inside that house there. Perhaps there are also some survivors who can help us,” Alistair suggested.
 
Morrigan snorted, “Why not? What is more wasted time? Is it really likely that a remote village such as this would have a working golem? If what you want is a head full of rocks I would like to point out that we already have Alistair.”
 
“Helpful as always,” Alistair muttered. Blake was already at the entrance to the house and the others scrambled to catch up. Morrigan was disappointed that the templar proved to be right and rolled her eyes when the Warden agreed to help a man find his daughter. It was like Lothering when they ran around solving everybody’s problem.
 
The mage who used to work in the laboratory had created his traps well. Even Morrigan was impressed, “I wonder what he’s protecting down here that requires so much security. It is odd.” They got an answer soon enough, a demon trapped by the mage Wilhelm had the little girl enthralled and tried to use her as a bargaining chip for its freedom. Blake lied and tricked the demon, saving the girl and breaking the seal so they could all get out.
 
“Let’s get the activation phrase, the golem and head back to Denerim, shall we?” Blake asked wearily. The girl’s father was beaming in gratitude and gave them the correct phrase and a warning about murderous tendencies. Blake wasn’t worried and hurried out into the sunshine and the golem.
 
He was contemplating it when Alistair joined him, “Are you sure you want to do this? It did murder its former master after all.”
 
“Still less dangerous than Morrigan’s tongue,” Blake quipped quietly. Alistair stifled a snicker. “Besides, think of it as a portable battering ram.”
 
“Better it than me,” his friend muttered and watched, ready to defend the Warden if the golem got any funny ideas. “Jannasilane would love to see this,” he sighed.
 
Blake agreed, “We’ll have a fun surprise for her when we see her again.” He pointed the rod at the rock statue and said the, hopefully, magic words, “Dulef har.”
 
They watched it carefully. At first nothing happened then a slight, shimmery glow enveloped the creature. Slowly, stiffly it lowered first one arm then the other. The golem stood there, looking at the two Wardens and heaved a great sigh, “It found the control rod I see, and it isn’t even a mage. How thrilling. Well, what does it command me to do?”
 
The corners of Blake’s mouth twitched, “Oh yeah, Package would love this,” he thought. He slanted his eyes to Zevran and smiled wickedly. “Hug the elf,” he commanded.
 
Startled, Zevran backed away, “While I am fond of being caressed by strong hands I prefer that my insides stay in place when this happens.”
 
“Odd, I feel no compulsion to obey. I am awake so the control rod cannot be broken. Why did it want to waken me?”
 
Blake tapped the rod thoughtfully and stared at the rock creature. “I am a Grey Warden, as is Alistair. We need to defeat the darkspawn and kill the Archdemon in order to end this Blight. What will you do now?”
 
“I have free will; I can go wherever I wish. I need to think on this but for now I am willing to follow it. I am called Shale. These darkspawn creatures are nearly as evil as the feathered fiends of the sky and need to be exterminated.” Blake couldn’t tell if Shale was staring at him or if that was just how golems looked at people. It was rather disconcerting.
 
“Glad to have you aboard, Shale.”
 
“This shall be interesting,” and Shale fell in line with the others. On the way out of the village woe to any chickens which crossed Shale’s path. They were met with a rock foot and crushed with a splat. Shale just shrugged when anybody looked at him, or her, askance.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 30: Reunion in Denerim
 
“Have you made any decisions, Alistair? We’ll be in Denerim soon and you’ll be able to talk to Package. You better know what you want,” Blake warned. With Shale in the party they made good time after leaving Honnleath. The acerbic golem didn’t encourage much chatting, perhaps it was simply observing its new companions and getting used to being on the move again without being controlled.
 
“I love her. I wouldn’t blame her if she hates me but I need to explain myself and beg her forgiveness.” Alistair closed his eyes in misery for a moment as he remembered the moment he realized she was gone. He’d read and reread her letter so many times it was engraved on his brain, each reading more painful than the one before. Teagan was a good man; he wouldn’t blame Jannasilane if she chose him. He and Zevran, he gritted his teeth at thoughts of the elf, had hurt her enough. “I never really thought I would ever have a chance for love. It was quite a shock to realize I was in love with her at the same time she was telling me she might, um, need other lovers.” He looked down at the ground and muttered half to himself, “It’s a moot point if she can’t bear the sight of me.”
 
Blake clapped him on the shoulder and moved on. There was nothing for him to say, he figured Alistair had only slightly better than a 50-50 chance. He shook his head, he honestly didn’t know what he would do if he were in the warrior’s shoes. He missed Package and hoped she would be joining them again. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at Zevran and wondered what he was thinking.
 
Zevran hated feeling guilty. Only when she was gone did he realize how much he enjoyed Jannasilane’s presence at camp. Her innocent pleasure in new experiences was a joy. Then he deliberately crushed her for his own selfish ends. He constantly thought about what she said to him, ‘you’re old enough to be my father, isn’t it time you grew up?’ She was right. And his efforts didn’t even pay off; instead of bringing the Warden closer to him his actions pushed him away. The Warden made it very clear that Zevran’s continued presence depended on somehow making amends with the little pocket goddess. Zevran shook his head at the mess he’d made of his situation with the Wardens.
 
The Denerim marketplace was as busy as usual. Alistair fiddled with his mother’s amulet while he waited for Blake to check with his contacts. He tried to block out Morrigan sniping in his ear, but it wasn’t easy. At least Janna had Riordan to take care of her, not that she needed much help in that direction. He wondered . . . well it didn’t matter. It wasn’t any of his business. He looked up in relief when Blake returned.
 
Jannasilane was all nerves. Her Time of Becoming came while on the road with Riordan. Vividly she remembered the day it started. She’d been feeling strange and edgy all day. Riordan seemed to be his normal charming self. She enjoyed their talks about his travels, the Grey Wardens and her parents. He seemed to enjoy listening to her talk about growing up and her stories of traveling with the Wardens. If he was just being polite he certainly hid it well. One of his contacts lived near the Brecelian forest; he was a solitary man who primarily fished and hunted but somehow managed to hear many interesting things. Riordan hoped that when the other Wardens joined them in Denerim they would be able to combine their information and get a more complete picture of the state of affairs in Ferelden.
 
They never found his friend. Riordan was disappointed but not surprised. They had met with a few of his other contacts, Warden sympathizers or friends of his family, along the way and learned a bit more. He suggested they stay at the man’s small house for a day or two, hopefully his friend would return. Jannasilane ran a hand over her hair and grimaced, “Do you think I could wash my hair while we are here? Having a spider explode over one does not leave behind a clean feeling.”
 
Riordan looked at her in amusement. His thought when those spiders attacked was to kill them quickly, unfortunately they concentrated their efforts on his small companion and one was directly over her when he sliced it open with his blade. Her face when the skirmish was over . . . he didn’t think he would ever forget her standing there, dripping with spider remains and glaring at him. “I would be more than happy to help you, little one. Spiders do not exactly leave behind a pleasing scent and we do not want you to cause a panic when we reach Denerim. We will need to be discreet.”
 
“I bet you think you are so funny,” she accused. “However, I will accept your kind,” she rolled her eyes, “offer of assistance. My hair feels so sticky that I think washing it will be quite the chore.” She was quite right. In fact washing all of her was a chore. She had to practically rub her skin raw before the spider residue was all gone. Riordan wisely didn’t risk getting his armor wet and put on a pair of old trousers. Jannasilane couldn’t help but notice he was nicely in shape. She hesitated for a moment before stripping off her robe so it could soak, though she had her doubts it would recover.
 
Even with her back to him while he doused her with bucket after bucket of water Riordan was well aware of her curves. He was glad she couldn’t see his reaction. By the time she was ready to get the soap for her hair he was gritting his teeth and his eyes were heavy lidded with lust. She didn’t know he had desired her since Ostagar. Being a Grey Warden for so long made one very disciplined. His fingers tangled with hers amid the wet mass of hair. Soon they found a rhythm she found incredibly enticing and she leaned back ever so slightly. His hands slid down her neck and massaged her shoulders. He tried reminding himself she was the daughter of his friend and colleague but when she opened her eyes and looked at him he gave up the battle. He was a man with needs that hadn’t been met in months. Riordan closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. She nuzzled his chest, “Riordan,” she breathed.
 
Riordan took control then and quickly rinsed her hair before picking her up and carrying her inside, her curvy body squirming for his touch. She was ready and Maker help him he couldn’t wait. Without warning he pushed himself deep inside and enjoyed the look of pleasure on her face as she fell over. One, two thrusts and he joined her. Ecstasy filled him just as he filled her with his seed. The night was just beginning for them. He touched her breasts, exploring them with hand and tongue. His beard rasped against her skin and she cried out for more. “Please, Riordan,” she begged but he ignored her. He suckled her breasts, her nipples growing hard and firm under his tongue. He found her nub and began pleasuring her with clever fingers until she found release once more. Only then did he move to kiss her lips tenderly, his tongue gently inserting itself to dance with hers.
 
She whimpered when she felt his manhood growing against her but he made no moves to enter her just yet. “We have the rest of the night, little one. And for me it has been a long time since I enjoyed the pleasure of a beautiful woman in my arms. I plan to savor the experience.” He kissed her and prevented her from replying. Slowly he trailed kisses across her cheek until he could nibble her ear. He nuzzled her hair, “you have the most unusual hair. A temptation for any man worthy of the name, it is like a living creature, beckoning to be touched.” He placed small kisses on her neck and shoulder punctuated by small nips of his teeth. He continued his path down her breasts, bringing them to hard peaks once more before moving down her torso, her navel, until he finally reached the wet heat of her core.
 
When he lightly nipped her nub and began tonguing her she pushed him back until she was on top and slowly sheathed herself on him. Her hands were firm on his chest, massaging him and exploring his muscles. He laughed, “Such impatience,” even as he grabbed her hips to move against her. She growled at him and began moving up and down, deliberately clenching and unclenching herself around him until he could stand it no further. This time she brought him up and over before letting herself go. His eyes crossed with pleasure. It was a long time before sleep claimed them.
 
The sun shining through the small window was warm on their skin when they woke. Riordan took a brief moment to admire the play of light against her complexion and how he could see faint freckles before he swatted her rear, “We need to move, little one. The prospect of meeting my friend naked is not pleasing to this old man.”
 
Jannasilane snorted, “you are not old, Riordan. Mature, yes, but not old.”
 
Riordan grew serious, “in Warden years I am old, near the end of my time. I think you know this.” She looked away; she didn’t want to think about it but knew it was so. “I thank you for last night, your company gave me more pleasure than I have known in a long time and I will value it long after we part ways. If I were a young man perhaps I would challenge Alistair for your affections but I am not.”
 
Her eyes wide with surprise she answered him, “Alistair doesn’t care for me. Maybe at one point,” she shrugged but Riordan could see the hurt deep in her eyes and inwardly sighed at the stupidity of young men, unknowingly echoing Teagan’s thoughts. She smiled uncertainly at him, damning herself for wishing he were a certain templar, “I enjoy your company as well.” She blushed slightly, charming him. She decided she would wait until Denerim before considering how much to tell him. Meanwhile they had a day before traveling again.
 
That was weeks ago. They continued enjoying their more intimate relationship until they reached Denerim and Riordan left to investigate. She was fine at first but then the need for Warden contact began steadily building, sometimes bringing her to tears of pain. She pored over her mother’s book, seeking for any remedies which might soothe her craving. Bitterly she finally understood why some of her kind chose life in a brothel. Sex with non-Wardens seemed to be the only balm and that lasted such a short time. She couldn’t do that. If it killed her she was determined to wait it out. The only consolation she got from her reading was that the Becoming was more intense when it first occurred and usually settled at a more comfortable level. She hoped it would happen soon.
 
Jannasilane stood near the window looking for some sign of Riordan before she began pacing for the thousandth time. Her bare feet made no sound. She didn’t realize her nails were gouging deep slashes in her arms where she tried to hold herself together. She felt a faint sense of Warden, but she didn’t even look up. She’d felt it before but could never tell where it was from. The city itself seemed to block the sense or cause it to echo against stone walls. She felt need mocking her. Noises came from the empty store below and the familiar sense of Warden was stronger. Jannasilane grew still with hope.
 
Blake had directed the others to find rooms while he and Alistair went to meet with Riordan. He’d accepted a couple more jobs so they would be in Denerim a few days. Zevran was determined to prove his worth to the Grey Wardens and followed them, keeping an eye out for any assassins, including those of the feathered variety. He slipped inside the store after them and hid in the shadows in case he was needed. He waited while they went upstairs.
 
Alistair licked his lips nervously. He didn’t know how Janna would react to seeing him again. He just hoped she would hear him out before throwing him out. Neither he nor Blake expected the sight that greeted them. Jannasilane was standing in the middle of the room, holding herself still except for the tremors shaking her. Alistair stared in horror at the bloody furrows in her arms and felt immense sorrow when he looked into her eyes. She looked . . . haunted, desperate even. Her face was gaunt and her voice hoarse when she whispered, “Ali? Blake?” Then she lost control and threw herself at them, “help me, please.” She began crying.
 
Alistair automatically wrapped his arms around her as he struggled to understand what she meant. It was difficult because he was hard as a stone inside his armor; her nearness had such a strong effect on him. “This, this is what you meant? This is the Becoming?” She nodded her head, still refusing to look at him.
 
“Where is Riordan?” Blake asked quietly, worried about the older Warden’s absence.
 
“I d-do not know. I-I h-haven’t s-s-seen him s-since w-we arr-rrived,” Jannasilane could hardly put words together. Their presence made her need greater. “P-please!” she cried.
 
“I’ll just go downstairs and leave you two alone,” Blake began.
 
“No!” Jannasilane interrupted him. She bit her lip and looked away in shame even as she burrowed against Alistair, “No, please, you must stay. I am sorry, Alistair,” she looked at him in dread as she continued, “you are a young Grey Warden and your, erm, your Wardenness alone is not enough. Not right now.” Tears fell down her face and she looked down at the ground, not wanting to see the disgust in his eyes.
 
“Blake,” Alistair flushed. This was not something he ever expected to ask, “You have more experience than we do. You should probably take charge so nobody gets hurt.”
 
Blake nodded. He knew this was hard on Alistair, but looking at Package he knew they didn’t have much choice. Softly he spoke to her, “Package, help me get Alistair’s armor off of him. Alistair, as soon as you are free of all this metal, carry her to bed. I think holding her will be better for her. I’ll make sure we’re secure and join you.” Gently he stroked her face until she looked up at him. He smiled crookedly at her, “I fantasized about this, you know, under happier circumstances.” He kissed her then, gently and reassuringly. As quickly as possible they removed Alistair’s heavy plate armor.
 
The moment he was freed of all encumbrances Alistair swung her into his arms and kissed her deeply. When he could take a breath he asked huskily, “Where’s the bed, love?” She just pointed and he walked in that direction, holding her as if he would never let her go again.
 
Quickly Blake headed downstairs and made sure everything was locked tight. Sensing a presence he whirled around, “Zevran,” he said flatly, “why are you here?”
 
Inwardly wincing at the tone Zevran replied lightly, “Making sure no assassins followed you, of course. Excepting my humble self. I took an oath to protect the Wardens. I may not be the world’s most admirable person but when I give my vow freely I honor it. There are not enough Grey Wardens in Ferelden for you and Alistair to wander the less savory parts of Denerim alone.”
 
Blake looked at him, brooding. He rubbed his temple and sighed, “You may be right but you shouldn’t be here. However what’s done is done. Stay down here unless I call for you.” He turned to go.
 
“Warden, I hesitate to ask, but did you find your young goddess and Riordan?” Zevran asked.
 
“Package yes, Riordan no. The situation is . . . complicated.” Blake continued upstairs without looking back. Zevran sighed. He supposed he should be grateful the Warden talked to him even that much. He made himself comfortable, he had a feeling he would be waiting for some time.
 
Alistair reverently lay Jannasilane on the bed, “Shh, let’s get your robe off,” he delicately touched his lips to hers, waiting for them to open in invitation even though it was prompted by need rather than love. Soon her clothes were tossed aside and he could look his fill. She was so beautiful. He held her against him with one arm and with his other hand stroked and caressed her. She might be trembling from need, but he was going to make sure she was ready for him. He didn’t want to hurt her again. His hand moved lower to between her legs. He kissed her breasts and slid his fingers to her entrance. She was damp but not enough and he removed his fingers to her nub. He tweaked and pulled in a way designed to drive her wild and first slid one finger, then two and three in and out until he felt her gush. Only then did he position himself on top of her. He eased into her slowly. She went over for him and seemed to relax just a bit. When he was completely encased he looked down into her eyes. He tried to put all the love he felt for her in his gaze but she looked away. Sighing he bent his head down and kissed her. He didn’t start moving until she did, letting her need and desire set the pace. He started thrusting faster and she met him motion for motion until they both came. He rolled over so she was on top of him and he was still inside her. He held her close during the aftershocks, stroking her hair and back soothingly.
 
Blake was next to them by then. He moved her hair behind her ear so he could look her in the eye. “Feel better?” he asked. She hesitated and nodded, not ready to speak. He looked into her eyes. “It’s better but the need is still clawing at you, isn’t it?”
 
“Y-yes,” she answered, relieved that he understood. She refused to look at Alistair even as she reveled in his close embrace.
 
“We’ll have to fix that, then. You two look so beautiful together,” he whispered before closing his lips on hers. When hers opened in surprise Blake deepened the kiss. Alistair continued stroking her, for which Blake thanked the Maker. Knowing the cooperation was necessary and bringing himself to do it were two different things. “Alistair, stay inside if you can but slowly widen your legs.” Blake moved so he was behind Package where she lay sprawled on Alistair’s chest. “Move your hands to her hips and gently hold her,” he directed. Lightly he placed his hands on the small of her back and began softly massaging. Sometimes he leaned down and planted a delicate kiss against her spine. Jannasilane sighed in pleasure and arched into his hands. “That’s it,” Blake whispered in her ear. “I know this is new for you, and it will be uncomfortable at first but trust us. We’ll make it as easy as possible and pleasurable for you.” Alistair felt a tightening in his groin at the motion of her breasts against him.
 
Blake reached for a vial of oil he’d brought with him. He poured some of the oil into his hands and began rubbing it into her and caressing her to prepare her. Alistair gently rubbed lazy circles with his thumbs as she began to squirm under their joint ministrations. Blake could feel Alistair twitch inside her. He slipped an oiled finger inside and began moving it in and out while Alistair kneaded her curves and held her close.
 
She was being bombarded by sensation. Jannasilane felt herself being stretched and then a pang when Blake started using two fingers. When he twisted his fingers she gasped in pleasure and felt Alistair growing thicker inside her. Blake did too and decided to hurry things along a bit. He covered his own erection in oil and positioned himself, “be still,” he ordered hoarsely. Carefully he pushed himself inside. Jannasilane bit her lips with the pain and discomfort but was soothed by the gentleness of both men. Blake had to control his breathing when he was all the way in. He held himself still while the three of them got used to each other. Slowly he leaned back and when he felt Package tightening around them he carefully eased her so she was leaning against him. He wrapped his arms around her and began fondling her breasts. He delicately licked her ear and nuzzled.
 
Alistair was surprised at how aroused he was by the situation. He started breathing heavier when Blake played with her nipples while Jannasilane was staring down at him with desire. He moved his hand and reached between them and began stroking her. She gasped and leaned farther against Blake, granting both men more access. Her desire began to reach its peak and the two Wardens began moving in tandem. “Careful,” Blake warned, as much for his own benefit as theirs. When she clenched around them Blake felt himself go. “Yes,” he cried out. Blake’s release gave Alistair more room to move and he in turn came while Jannasilane was lost in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Jannasilane and Blake lay boneless on top of Alistair. He chuckled but shifted so she was between them on the bed, their heads pillowed on his arm.
 
 Jannasilane was so relieved not to have the need clawing at her any more she relaxed for the first time in weeks. She didn’t want to admit how comforted she felt by their presence and she was truly glad to see Blake again. She didn’t want to be glad to see Alistair. She didn’t want to look at him, knowing his opinion of her was now confirmed. She sat up and moved so she was only touching Blake. Her voice as cool as she could possibly make it she spoke to Alistair, “Well, now that you’ve had your fun I suppose you’ll be leaving. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She would have been furious to know that both men heard the slight hitch in her voice. When Blake sat up she let him pull her against him, it moved her further away from Alistair.
 
Alistair closed his eyes at her tone. “Ouch, that hurt. I deserve it though. Maker help me,” he thought. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed his hands over his face to give himself a minute to compose himself and turned to face the woman he loved. Blake was supporting her but he took the opportunity to mouth the words ‘don’t blow it.’ Alistair hated that he was responsible for the distance between them. He took a deep breath and began, “Janna, I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. That was never my intention. I was self-absorbed and inconsiderate. I admit I was every kind of idiot, a total jerk and a complete bastard in every sense of the word. But not for the reasons you think. I love you and didn’t know how to deal with it, you, or what you told me about-”
 
He didn’t get to finish because faster than Blake could stop her she punched him, knocking him right off the bed. “Love,” she hissed crawling to look at Alistair on the floor. “Is that what you call it?” She was incensed.
 
He carefully stood up, holding his nose, “You broke my nothe!” he said disbelievingly. Blake tried not to laugh, but when she stood on the bed and grabbed the templar by his chest hair he lost it. He howled so hard with laughter he fell to the floor.
 
Downstairs Zevran wondered how long he would be stuck waiting for the Wardens to finish their business when the ceiling shook and he heard a loud thump. He was already racing up the stairs when he heard Alistair’s cry of pain shortly followed by a second thump and howling. Nothing in his life surprised him so much as the sight that met him when he opened the door. The Warden was on the floor helpless with laughter. The pocket goddess was pulling on Alistair’s chest hair so hard Zevran winced in sympathy and felt fortunate elves did not have to worry about such tortures. And Alistair, the large warrior was standing with his head tilted back, holding his nose, repeating in disbelief, “you broke my nothe, I tol’ you I lub you an’ you broke my nothe!”
 
“I see I am vastly overdressed for this party. I thought perhaps someone needed rescuing but I am not sure who that might be,” Zevran quipped. “I also did not realize templars were so well-equipped. I wonder how many opportunities I have missed over the years. Would you like me to straighten out your . . . nose, oh mighty Warden? It will do until our healer with the almost magnificent bosom can treat you.” He was delighted to see faint signs of amusement from both Blake and Jannasilane.
 
“I think that’s a good idea. Package, be a good girl and let go of Alistair.” Blake got off the floor and moved closer to the warring parties, “Alistair, sit down and take your medicine. I can’t have you walking through the city with your head tilted back.” Alistair glared at the assassin but did as Blake directed. He tried to hear what Blake was telling Janna but he was speaking too softly. Blake had grabbed her by the arm and walked to the other side of the room, “Package,” he said softly, “I know he hurt you but at least listen to what he has to say, for my sake if not yours or his, please. Zevran and I will be waiting downstairs for you. Both of you.” He gathered up his clothes and grabbed the Antivan by the arm and hustled him downstairs before the elf could say anything to further antagonize Alistair. “You might be right about templars though I haven’t seen many -,” was the last thing Alistair and Janna heard.
 
Awkwardly the two of them began to get dressed. Alistair didn’t want to put on his armor so he settled on the thin cotton pants and shirt he wore underneath to prevent pinching and chafing. Alistair ran his fingers through his hair, wondering where to start. Finally he pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “Are you going to hit me again? Not that I don’t deserve it but I would prefer a slap in the face to a broken nose.” Jannasilane smirked but she sat down and just crossed her arms, waiting for him to continue. Alistair sighed, “I’ve missed you. You, not just the, um, the sex bit. Not that I haven’t missed that too,” he hastily added. “Let me start over. I wasn’t sure love really existed between people. I understood the concept but wasn’t sure I believed it, and certainly not that I would find it. Templar and Grey Warden are not exactly careers conducive to the whole love and commitment thing, you know. And I always assumed fidelity and marriage would naturally follow.
 
I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you. I knew I was attracted to you, more than any woman I’ve ever met. I enjoyed talking to you. I miss our morning talks about anything and nothing. The happiest part of my life has been since we met you on the road to Lothering. Even when I was miserable I was still happier than before we met. I didn’t have any experience dealing with women in a, a social or romantic capacity before Duncan recruited me. You know that. I thought what I felt for you was friendship mixed with lust and . . . and gratitude for being with me.” Alistair flushed with embarrassment. “That sounds pretty lame. I don’t understand why you even bothered with me, but I’m glad you did.” He got up and started pacing back and forth and then leaned against the wall to face her. “When you came to Blake and me at Soldier’s Peak to talk to us about Griffons and Wardens, do you know what I heard? That my feelings and yours might not be real. Then later in the tent I heard you saying it might be necessary for you to be, um, to be intimate with other men. The very thought hurt me. I realized I loved you and dreams I didn’t realize I’d been building started to tumble. I swear I could hear them crashing. I never believed you wanted to be with these imaginary men, but I believed that you believed in the possibility and I couldn’t handle it. You were saying fidelity might not be an option and I couldn’t dream of sharing the woman I loved with anybody else.”
 
Alistair waited, hoping she would say something. When she didn’t he continued, “It’s hard for me to think around you, sometimes. Leaving Redcliffe to go to the Circle gave me the chance to think clearly. One thing became absolutely crystal, I love you, Jannasilane Alenahaella. I would rather have you in my life even if it means that it can’t be one hundred percent than not have you in it at all. I know about Teagan and am guessing you were with Riordan. I can’t say it doesn’t bother me at all but I can live with it. If you can forgive me I’m willing to do anything I can so we can both find happiness. After today I understand so much more than I did then.” He watched her closely, hoping against hope.
 
Jannasilane felt herself softening towards him but was determined to have her say, to make sure he understood exactly how she felt. “I too was happy, until after Soldier’s Peak. You made me feel as if I were a-, as if I belonged in a brothel,” she stalked towards him angrily. “You turned to me in the night when you felt the need and then you rolled away from me as if I disgusted you. You made no effort to see if I was s-satisfied.” She reddened with a mixture of shame, embarrassment and anger. When tears started falling down her cheeks Alistair slid to the floor at the magnitude of the hurt he had inflicted. “I tried talking to you and you turned away. I was hurt and frustrated and yes, I had sex with Zevran. I didn’t plan on it but he seemed to be offering me comfort or relief you refused. I was wrong but that’s between him and me. Maybe I wanted to hurt you, maybe I wanted to prove that others could value me but I was wrong. I left with Riordan because I valued myself, and I could not let another person dictate my self-worth. Teagan helped me see what I was doing. I was scared of what might happen to me if I stayed.”
 
Alistair was shaking his head, “I am so, so sorry,” he said brokenly. “I was struggling with myself, not you. If I had just spoken to you even a little we could have avoided so much pain. I tried not to reach for you at night because I wanted to be clear about what I wanted and could accept. I was so mad with myself for not being fair or honorable in my treatment of you, I didn’t realize what I was doing to you.” Slowly he stood again. “I guess that’s that, then. I hope in time you can forgive me enough so we can be friends.” He began gathering up his armor.
 
“Ali,” he turned around, startled that she called him by her nickname for him and noticed her looking at the amulet around his neck. “That is your mother’s amulet, is it not?”
 
“I, yes it is. I forgot to thank you. I’ve worn it ever since you gave it to me, to remind me of you, because you gave it to me.” He couldn’t read her expression but he felt hope flare up again. “For the record, I have always hated being Maric’s bastard son and certainly don’t consider myself a noble. I never, ever felt you were unworthy. Instead I’ve always believed you deserve better than me.” He went downstairs to get Blake and Zevran.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 31: Riordan is . . .
 
Alistair got as far as two steps down when he turned around and went back inside to Jannasilane. She hadn’t moved. She looked at him suspiciously when he returned, “I forgot something,” he mumbled. Quickly he gently cupped the sides of her face and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. He felt her tremble and lean into him and inwardly danced for joy. When he stopped she was looking at him bemusedly and his breathing was none too steady. He leaned his forehead against hers, “Remember this, Jannasilane Alenahaella, I love you with everything I have and there will never be another. I love you today, tomorrow, always.”
 
She watched him leave. When he was out of sight she placed shaky fingers on her lips. “I’m very much afraid I love you, too, Alistair Theirin,” she whispered. “Maker help us both.” In a daze she looked around the hideaway. When her gaze landed on the bed in the next room she swore she could feel her toes blushing. She flushed even more when she saw how neglected the place was, including herself. She sighed and wished there was time for a bath.
 
While waiting for Alistair and Jannasilane to finish their long overdue discussion Blake and Zevran explored the ‘store’ without speaking. Blake felt awkward around the Antivan for the first time in their acquaintance. He knew that there was no way for the other man not to know what went on upstairs, especially since he saw the three of them naked together. His groin twitched at the idea of adding Zevran to that scenario.
 
Zevran wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he wasn’t at all envious. He couldn’t recall seeing such an attractive display of human flesh before today. They were all superior examples of the species. He couldn’t help smiling at the picture of Pocket Goddess pulling on the warrior’s chest hair. He was glad for the Warden’s sake that his chest hair was more of an attractive dusting.
 
Blake raised an eyebrow, “Why are you smiling?”
 
“Did the pocket goddess really break Alistair’s nose because he told her he loved her? And why was she yanking him by the chest hair? Is this a Fereldan custom, dear Warden, or an Alistair one?” Zevran’s droll questions allowed Blake to relax.
 
He laughed, “Package has a temper and it finally came to full boil with Alistair. I hope he explains himself without inserting those oversize boots too far into his mouth.” He shrugged, “We’ll know soon enough.” Blake opened a door and found stairs going down. “Curious,” he murmured, “most buildings in Denerim don’t have a cellar.” He and Zevran went downstairs.
 
“Well, well, you Grey Wardens are a tricky lot,” Zevran said appreciatively. It wasn’t so much a cellar as a well house. A Warden could stay hidden in the building for some time and never have to leave to retrieve water. Zevran pulled on a rope on the wall and realized it was a pulley system; buckets full of water could be pulled to the top instead of carried one at a time. A pipe from upstairs over an opening in the floor suggested to him that the waste water was disposed of just as conveniently.
 
“Huh, that’s nifty,” Alistair joined them. “I wonder how long this has been a Warden hideout.” He led the way back upstairs which was the source for a fair amount of noise. “What is she doing in there?” He opened the door and they could hear Jannasilane cursing in the next room. They looked in to see her standing precariously on a chair and trying to loop some rope over a hook on the wall. Alistair moved quickly and plucked her off the chair with one arm and secured the rope with his other hand.
 
Once she was down on the ground she glared mutinously at him, “I could have done it,” she pouted.
 
“And I helped,” Alistair replied in exasperation. “What are you doing?” She lifted her chin and told him, daring him to say anything. “Good idea,” he said cheerfully, “what do you want us to do?” She looked at him suspiciously before deciding she was being silly. Judging by the amused expressions of Blake and Zevran she was correct. Soon Blake was at the well filling buckets of water. Zevran started the cook stove to heat water and prepare some soup from the plentiful store of supplies. Alistair started filling a small tub while Jannasilane straightened and cleaned.
 
When Alistair finished filling the tub and turned around he saw Jannasilane eyeing it wistfully, “What is it, my love?”
 
She blushed and refused to meet his eyes, “Nothing, I just wish I had time for a bath and to wash my hair.”
 
Alistair’s eyes practically crossed out of their sockets but he offered to help, “I think that tub is too small even for you but I can help you wash your hair. I love your hair; I’ve always thought it was like nature’s defiance in the face of winter, so many shades of gold, red, and brown with streaks of lightning running through it. Kind of fierce and proud, like you.”
 
Jannasilane looked at him in surprise, “Ali that is the most poetic thing I think you’ve ever said.” She grew flustered at the warm glow in his hazel eyes and looked away in confusion. She’d forgotten how he made her feel whenever he looked at her like that.
 
In the other room Blake and Zevran were sitting at the table while the soup simmered. “Camp will be more interesting now that the pocket goddess will be rejoining us,” Zevran said casually. “I do hope she doesn’t plan on breaking Alistair’s nose every day though Morrigan might enjoy that.” Blake laughed. He sobered up when Zevran brought up Riordan, “Where do you think her most recent traveling companion is? I do not like this disappearing act.”
 
“No, neither do I,” Blake frowned. “I can only think that something happened to him, Package says she doesn’t know where he is but maybe she can tell us more when she comes out.” He looked at Zevran. There were so many things he wished to say but what he did to Package kept getting in the way. “Zevran, about Package, I . . . never mind,” he sat back and brooded. They were silent, each man lost in his own thoughts.
 
When she and Alistair came out of the bedroom Zevran looked her over very carefully and frowned slightly. He stood and made a big production of seating her at the table as if she were royalty then quickly took hold of an arm and examined it closely. “You have not been taking care of yourself, some of these gouges are fresh and others are days if not weeks old. You are thinner and I do not believe you have been sleeping well. Your loveliness now has a certain ethereal quality which does not suit you as much as your usual wild beauty. Why have you done this to yourself?”
 
He held onto her arm until she answered. She flushed and looked away in embarrassment, “Have you ever had to fight to hold on to who you are, afraid that one false step on your part and the force besieging you will suck you down a never-ending hole of madness or self-loathing?”
 
Neither Warden stopped him when he took hold of her chin and turned her face back to him. Her eyes were glazed and haunted, full of shadows, “Yes, I understand. I am sorry you had to go through such an ordeal.” And he did know; his Crow training was designed to make one lose such a battle. It was their way of eliminating the weak. Gently he patted her arm, “Now you are back with your Wardens and we have a delicious soup prepared by yours truly.” He moved to the stove and gracefully began filling bowls and cups. Jannasilane watched him, confused by his avuncular, even paternal, tone. She wasn’t the only one.
 
Once her nose was teased by the delicious aroma of Zevran’s soup all she could think of was eating. She forced herself to eat slowly, savoring every bite and every sip of broth. Alistair and Blake quickly emptied their bowls and refilled them. Zevran idly thought a good cook could make a fortune working at a Warden base. Once their initial hunger was sated Blake was ready for some answers, “Package, tell me everything you can remember about Riordan, what he said, what he took with him. You arrived in Denerim and then . . .”
 
“We did not come straight to Denerim from Redcliffe; ours was more of a zigzag. He knows people, either through the Grey Wardens or his family connections he thought could give us news. And possibly a different viewpoint than we might find here in the capitol. Once or twice we had to avoid troops which delayed us as well,” Alistair wondered at the sudden blush when she said that. Blake and Zevran were intrigued though tried not to show it, they had their own ideas and neither thought the templar or Package would appreciate hearing them. Studiously she avoided looking at Alistair when she continued, “it was late when we arrived in Denerim and we had to be very careful arriving here. We decided to rest for the night,” to his credit Alistair said nothing even though his cheeks were stained pink, “and the next morning he made plans.”
 
Jannasilane tilted her head thoughtfully, “I believe he was going to make his way to the docks. I was under the impression his friend might not be in town and if recently arrived could be in a tavern, or something, somewhere.”
 
Zevran nodded his head, “Sounds like a sailor, perhaps. Even in these times many ships stop in Denerim though not always of the highest character. It is good he did not take you with him, you are much too attractive and would draw a great deal of unwelcome attention.” Alistair was obvious in his agreement. He shuddered to think of what might have happened in some of the more notorious dockside bars.
 
“Riordan said I was too conspicuous and did not know how to blend in, that without meaning to I could endanger both of us. I thought he meant I wasn’t sneaky enough, which is also truth. He did say it could take two or three days to find his friend and I should not concern myself if I did not see him. That it would be best if there were not too many trips to and from this ‘abandoned’ store. I began to worry when he didn’t return on the fourth day. Finally, six days after he left I went out looking for him.”
 
Alistair took her hands in his, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt, that could have been really dangerous for you.” Blake pictured her lying by the docks the same way Elissa lay in the library and was grateful to the absent Warden for convincing her not to go with him.
 
Jannasilane kept her eyes on Alistair, not realizing how telling that was to the other two men. “I know I am not clever enough to talk to people and get information but I thought I could at least use my ability to sense Wardens to find him. It was odd, Ali,” she frowned as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. “As much as I tried I could not get a good sense of even which direction to look. I know he is alive, but it as if the walls of the city themselves try to confuse me or as if he is far underground. Sometimes I thought I sensed him in one direction and then minutes later a different one.”
 
“Do you think it might be different now, now that you’re feeling better?” Alistair was careful in how he referred to her condition when they arrived.
 
“I do not know, but I do not think so,” she chewed her lips as she thought about it.
 
“Well, you’ll have an opportunity to try again over the next few days, Package. We need to track down a Brother Genitivi and talk to him about the Urn of Sacred Ashes. He’s here in Denerim. We can nose around a bit for Riordan,” Blake glanced at Zevran who nodded that he understood, “but we may not find him. You need to be prepared to leave him behind. I will not leave you here without us. Even if we find him it may not be practical to attempt a rescue.”
 
Jannasilane gathered up some of the used dishes and took them over to the basin by the stove in order to give herself time to think. She was glad Blake was willing to look for Riordan and she knew he was right about leaving him behind. She didn’t want to think about it. “Little one, I may not return before your young Wardens arrive. Do not wait for me.” Riordan’s last words to her before he left made her wonder how strongly he suspected he might not return. “I know,” she said quietly. She could feel Alistair’s brooding gaze on her back. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to leave.
 
“ . . . Do not wait for me.”
 
He woke up groaning in absolute darkness. It took a minute for him to realize he was naked, that they, whoever they were, hadn’t even left him his small clothes. That did not bode well for his future health. He cursed himself for being careless as he remembered how he came to be captured. Loghain’s spies, or Howe’s, were better than he thought. He tried to remember everything and was relieved that he had said nothing about the Warden’s arms cache or Duncan’s daughter. He had a feeling he was going to have a lot of practice saying nothing. Riordan hoped that Alistair and Blake reached Denerim soon. He didn’t expect them to look for him; he didn’t even know if he was still in the city, he only wanted them to take care of Jannasilane. He smiled a little, remembering the past few days. She turned out to be an amazingly sensual woman, willing to explore different aspects of her sexuality.
 
Riordan knew he surprised her by not letting her wear small clothes until they were close to Denerim. She came to enjoy the occasional cool breeze against her flesh under her robe and the more frequent warm hand and nimble fingers. Sometimes he wore his leather armor so she could tease him in return. Once they hid among the trees as troops passed. They had to be quiet in order not to be discovered. Riordan protected her with his body while they waited.
 
He had always enjoyed the spice of danger or discovery in his romantic encounters. The small battalion was more than halfway past their location when a spirit of deviltry entered him. Very carefully he eased her robe off her shoulders so he could caress her breasts, bringing them to hard peaks. She really had the most magnificent pair he could remember seeing and he loved playing with them. He could tell she was excited by the way she pushed back against him so he had more room to play. The harshness of his armor against her tender flesh made her clench. She began to breathe harder and had to bite her lips in order not to cry out. As soon as the troops were gone he turned her around and lifted her up so she was facing him. He didn’t let her down for some time. Her eyes glittered strangely when he straightened her clothes for her afterwards but didn’t say anything. He had the odd feeling she was sad about something, but then her expression changed and he thought he must have imagined it.
 
 It was late when they entered the shelter Riordan led them to in Denerim. It was two small rooms above an ‘abandoned’ shop near the docks, a secret Warden hideaway. After Sophia Dryden the Wardens had prudently created several such places in many nations across Thedas. They quickly went to bed and the next morning Riordan left on Grey Warden business. He warned her not to leave the premises and to wait for him or the other Wardens. His business might take some time and they might have to leave in a hurry. There was plenty of food and other supplies for a few weeks so she wouldn’t starve. She nodded in acknowledgement and wished him success.
 
Riordan remembered how she’d offered to come with him and thanked the Maker he convinced her to stay behind. He was quite fond of her and hoped that she would find happiness with Alistair. There was a good man in there waiting to come out. He had no hopes of escaping with his life, not that he wouldn’t be on the alert for any opportunities. He wondered if dying from torture was worse than the Calling. It would certainly be the more ignoble end to all these years as a Grey Warden. He braced himself when he heard the footsteps of several guards coming his way. He emptied his mind and pretended to be still asleep when they entered his cell. It didn’t stop them from grabbing him but it did allow him a few more seconds to listen for information.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 32: An Antivan Milk Sandwich?
 
Denerim was behind them and they were setting up camp for the first time since Jannasilane rejoined them. Morrigan was irritated and sniffed disdainfully when the toy came back. She’d hoped the miserable female was gone for good. Leliana, on the other hand, was ecstatic to see her friend. She hoped this meant that she and Alistair would be back together soon. In spite of her own disappointments she was still a romantic at heart.
 
Jannasilane had mixed feelings about leaving Denerim. She didn’t like leaving knowing that Riordan was likely being held captive but she knew he would agree with Blake. Building an army to defeat the Blight was more important than one man. She and Alistair strolled through different areas of Denerim but no matter where they went she couldn’t get more than a general sense of his direction. He might even be out of the city, the connection was so faint. They couldn’t enter the Alienage, which was the wrong direction anyway, or the Palace District. Too many of Loghain’s soldiers and Howe’s men roamed the streets under the guise of keeping order for them to escape detection. Even Slim Couldry didn’t know of a way in, but he was going to keep his ear to the ground. Maybe next time they were in town he would have some news for them.
 
Zevran had carefully covered the area near the docks. People were spooked and non-talkative; disappearances were pretty common in that area, more so than usual. Worse not even he, an elf, could get into the Alienage to see what he could learn. Many times in the past he’d been able to collect information from disgruntled elves. Too often those with servants forgot they were around.
 
“Janna, do you want your own tent?” Alistair asked. Under no circumstance did he wish to put pressure on her. He felt like he was treading on needles, one false foot and he would lose all the ground he thought he gained.
 
“That would not be practical, would it Alistair? We both know that there will be s-sex. I see no need for us to advertise to others when that happens,” she replied unhappily. She wished she could be mad at him; it would be much easier than this wary politeness between them. She couldn’t even say she didn’t appreciate his attempts to be considerate but the past easiness of their relationship was missing.
 
“Right, of course, I just don’t want you to think we’re going to take advantage of, you know, your condition,” he whispered the last two words. Jannasilane would have snapped at him but he looked as miserable and uncomfortable as she felt. She gave him a weak smile instead. “Maker, this is torture,” Alistair thought. Then he grinned, “Have you met Shale, the newest addition to our band of crazies?”
 
That grin was the Alistair she knew and she couldn’t help responding in kind. She cocked her head and looked at him through her lashes, not realizing how coquettish she appeared, “Not yet, you and Blake have been rather cagey. I do not even know if this Shale is a male person or a female person. Should I be worried?”
 
Alistair’s gaze became molten gold as he looked at her, “Never. I meant what I said before. You are the only woman for me now and always.” She blushed and his expression lightened, “I think you should meet Shale for yourself and make up your own mind.” No matter how she teased and cajoled he wouldn’t say another word while they put up the tent. Blake joined them just as they were done and Alistair scowled at him in mock reproof, “I’ve noticed you have a remarkable ability to not be around when it’s time to set up our tent.”
 
Blake smiled innocently, “I’m just being a good leader and making sure everybody has what they need.” Jannasilane hip-bumped him and he looked down at her, “Careful, Package, I need my knees.” When she stuck her tongue out at him he just laughed, “Maker I’m glad to have you back with us.”
 
“She hasn’t met Shale yet, don’t you think it’s time she did?”
 
“Shale’s on the other side of Bodahn’s cart,” Blake replied with a grin. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
 
Jannasilane looked back and forth between her two Wardens. They wore identical expressions of amusement and she was pretty sure it was at her expense. She followed them. Bodahn and Sandal seemed pleased to see her and she happily stopped and chatted with them for a few minutes. Sandal even gave her a new enchanted rune he created. When she saw the two Grey Wardens patiently waiting for her she quickly caught up to them. She could hear an odd gravelly sound up ahead and wondered. They went around a large shrub and saw Zevran talking to –“You found the golem!” she exclaimed with excitement. Eagerly she ran forward to where the large rock creature was haranguing the elf.
 
“Pocket Goddess? The one the swamp witch calls the Wardens’ toy, the Warden calls Package and the redheaded sister calls ‘dear friend?’ For one so small the miniature it certainly has a lot of names,” the golem rumbled.
 
“Mini it? Oh, I like that. Perhaps I shall start calling you that instead of Pocket Goddess all the time. Or even Minit, as in Alistair’s world changed in a minit.” Zevran twinkled roguishly at her and Blake stifled a snort.
 
Jannasilane ignored the byplay as she stared up at the golem in awe, “I have read of golems but never actually seen one. A single golem held back the darkspawn horde long enough for the dwarves to shore up their defenses and rally together to protect Orzammar.”
 
“The small it certainly has an understanding of the capabilities of a golem. Surprising really.”
 
Jannasilane looked up thoughtfully at the golem, “I thought golems were taller. It’s rather nice for me; I frequently get a crick in my neck when I talk to Sten or Alistair. I’d probably be in danger of falling over backwards if you were any taller.”
 
“I can fix that,” and Alistair quickly lifted her in his arms and sat her on his shoulder. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself talking to me, my love.” Jannasilane turned bright pink.
 
Meanwhile Shale had been doing what could only be called golemic sputtering, “I used to be taller. Ten feet tall! But the mage Wilhelm’s wife said I was too big for the house and had me cut down. Miserable hag.”
 
“How does one cut down a golem?” Blake was curious.
 
“With a chisel. And a great deal of nerve.” Shale withdrew into a brooding silence, no doubt envisioning gruesome ways in which the woman might have met her demise. Knowing from past experience the golem was done talking for now the Wardens and Zevran turned to leave.
 
Jannasilane waited patiently for a few steps before speaking, “Alistair, you can put me down now.” Alistair ignored her and kept on walking. “Alistair,” she said more firmly, “I would like you to please let go of me.”
 
“I don’t know if I want to do that. I like holding you, and this way if I want I can do this,” he turned his head and kissed her thigh. She felt the heat through the thin material of her robe. “Or even this,” and this time he lightly bit her, causing her to jump and feel even more heat.
 
She knew she was blushing. Again. “Ali,” she said sweetly and with determination, “please put me down. I cannot see your pretty face from up here.”
 
That got him moving. He shifted her so she was facing him and slowly let her down to the ground, “You think I’m pretty?” One eyebrow was raised in disbelief.
 
She opened her eyes wide, “Oh yes, put you in a nice flowered frock and surely you would rival Morrigan for beauty.” She stepped away from his reach. “Well, you might need some earrings or a necklace. Maybe some makeup and a different hairstyle.”
 
“I’d pay to see that,” Blake jested.
 
“I think I would rather see you in such attire, Warden. Perhaps both of you, that would surely be a sight for sore eyes,” Zevran quipped.
 
“Rather a sight to create sore eyes,” Morrigan sneered, “possibly even cause blindness.” She turned her gaze towards Jannasilane, “You have returned and appear none the wiser. One would have hoped you would learn something from the distinguished man you left behind but apparently that did not happen.”
 
“That is not true, Morrigan. Have you ever heard of an Antivan milk sandwich? I have to say since meeting Blake and Alistair again I have been overflowing with the milk of human kindness,” Jannasilane with a twinkle in her eye. Zevran, a few steps behind her, nearly choked on his tongue and Blake bit his lip in an effort not to say anything. He had a sneaking suspicion she didn’t know what she was talking about.
 
Morrigan didn’t know what to say and she suspected the silly fool was trying to make fun of her and decided to leave. Before she glided away she couldn’t help remarking, “You now have your toy back, Wardens. Make sure she doesn’t lose you like she did the Orlesian one. We can’t have all of you disappearing.” She walked away as silently as she joined them.
 
Once Morrigan was well out of earshot Alistair couldn’t help asking, “What exactly is an Antivan milk sandwich?”
 
Blake couldn’t help himself; he started smiling wickedly thinking of how to explain it to the templar. Zevran, who had just caught his breath back, started chuckling. Looking at them Alistair was no longer sure he wanted to know. Before either of them could explain Jannasilane spoke up, “It is a bun covered in creamy milk. Since it is from Antiva I thought Morrigan would think it was something dirty, because of all Zevran’s comments. I am tired of her talking to me as if I were a child or a simpleton.”
 
Blake looked at her strangely, “Is that what Riordan told you?”
 
“Mmm, yes. I saw a book and opened it. I did not have a chance to read it; I just saw the words before he took it away. He said his friend didn’t like people touching his books. He looked rather like you do now when I asked him what it was; I am not sure but I think now all he said was not truth.”
 
“Where on Thedas did he take you?” Blake murmured to himself. Leliana was approaching them and he hoped she could explain it to Package. He was going to have a hard enough time telling Alistair without the former templar becoming a pillar of flame.
 
“I am so glad you’re back! I have missed you so much and the Wardens have been as grim and irritable as bears poked with a stick. Have you met Shale?” Leliana chattered away happily and hugged her friend. Blake waited until she wound down and took her aside. “She said what?” and then began giggling. She nodded in agreement with something Blake said and easily maneuvered Jannasilane so they could be alone.
 
Blake looked at Zevran, “Do you want to tell him,” he pointed to the now very uncomfortable templar, “or shall I?”
 
That night Jannasilane made every excuse she could think of to delay entering the tent she shared with the Wardens. When Alistair said he was going to do a final patrol before turning in Blake offered to join him. She hurriedly entered their tent and put on her nightshirt. She was under the covers, including her head, when her Wardens came back. She knew she was as bright a red as Alistair had ever been when Blake commented that he would like a tall glass of creamy milk.
 
“Give it a rest already,” Alistair complained. He lowered his voice when he saw the very unmoving lump in Jannasilane’s bedroll, “At least it shut Morrigan up. We have Wynne now; do we still need that black-hearted b- witch?”
 
“You’re just jealous because she’s prettier than you,” Blake made kissy noises at the templar, causing Jannasilane’s blanket to twitch when she couldn’t smother her laughter.
 
Alistair pulled back the cover, “A-ha, there you are. You shouldn’t be laughing, you’re supposed to be on my side, not that of our mean and evil leader.”
 
“You are right, Alistair,” Jannasilane sighed. “You are much prettier than Morrigan with your full pouty lips and warm golden eyes. You have very thick lashes too, the envy of any girl.”
 
“You’re getting as bad as he is. Turn your head while I cry myself to sleep over this horrible treatment,” Alistair quickly shucked off his uniform and climbed into his bedroll. On the other side of the tent Blake did the same with more grace.
 
Soon there was silence and each of them was occupied with their own thoughts. Finally Blake spoke up, “Package?”
 
“Hmmm?”
 
“Do me a favor. Never, ever utter the phrase or even think ‘Antivan milk sandwich’ again. I don’t think I can take it.”
 
“Maker,” Alistair groaned. Yet he couldn’t help smiling to himself. Jannasilane was back with them and if it took the rest of his life he was going to prove to her that she could trust him. He couldn’t think of a more worthy goal.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 33: Giggles and Golems
 
Jannasilane sighed. “What deep thoughts are on your mind?” Leliana wanted to know. “Are things not going well with you and Alistair?”
 
“What? Oh, no, that is . . . um, I guess you could say we’re feeling our way. I know I am the one holding back; maybe in time . . .” she shrugged, then burst out, “Leliana, sometimes we are so polite to each other I feel like screaming and other times it is almost like when we first met.” She was quiet for a few minutes. “I, I do not quite trust him like I did. I want to but that is not the same,” she almost whispered the words.
 
“No, it’s not,” she put her arm through her friend’s, “but give it more time. I will tell you this, he loves you very much. At Redcliffe, when he learned you were gone, he changed. He was very much looking forward to seeing you again then he read your letter. Many times I saw him looking at your letter and rereading it. He was no longer the rather goofy, charming young warrior. He rarely spoke; sometimes I would even say he was positively surly. Finally he confronted me, asking me if I knew anything. He was so miserable, Janna, that I told him what I knew and what I thought. I think he would have found it easier to take a deathblow. I believe him when he said it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. It does not change the damage, I know.”
 
“When we met in Denerim he said he loved me and never meant to hurt me,” Jannasilane sighed again. “I broke his nose.”
 
“You . . . you broke his nose?” Leliana looked at her in disbelief then turned her gaze in Alistair’s direction. “Really? You broke his nose,” and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Jannasilane flushed and then she was giggling, too. She started laughing even harder when Leliana breathlessly added, “Better not tell Morrigan.” For the rest of the day whenever Alistair scratched or otherwise touched his nose the two of them burst out laughing.
 
Later that evening Blake was deep in conversation with Sten. Alistair came up to Jannasilane where she was sitting next to Leliana, “Would you care to walk with me, my love? I think we might have a nice view from the hilltop there.” “And a chance for some private conversation since we’ll be able to see anybody coming,” he thought to himself. He held out his hand and held his breath, hoping she would agree to come with him.
 
Jannasilane didn’t know why she felt nervous all of a sudden. Maybe it was the barely masked hope in his gaze which called forth an answering hope in her but she couldn’t resist. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her away. They’d shared a tent in the days since leaving Denerim but oddly enough they’d done nothing more than sleep. Every morning she found herself snuggled in his arms and frequently she could feel the evidence of his desire but he didn’t push and she didn’t feel that clawing need, at least not yet. She was relieved and confused at the same time.
 
Once they were settled he put his arm around her and she allowed herself to lean against him. For a few minutes it was like before Soldier’s Peak and they just sat quietly enjoying each other’s company. Alistair hated to break the rare peace but knew he had to take advantage of this time. He kissed the top of her head, “My love, I’ve been thinking about your, our situation.” She stirred against him and he held her firmly by his side. “I’m not going to avoid talking anymore just because it makes me uncomfortable or I don’t know what to say. That’s what drove you away before. If I had just talked to you about being confused and not knowing how to handle your news; if I had told you that I felt it was wrong for me to t-touch you, to take advantage of our closeness; if I had explained that I was disappointed in myself that morning and never you . . .”
 
Alistair ran his free hand over his face, “I never talked much about growing up in Redcliffe beyond the bare facts. I didn’t have much, I guess you figured that already, and I was never allowed to want anything for myself, have anything for myself or entertain any hopes for a future. You changed that and I felt I had to be perfect and honorable in order to deserve you. I was beating myself up about not treating you the way you deserve and not acting like the man I want to be. The man I feel you deserve.”
 
Jannasilane was touched, “I am hardly a perfect person, Alistair. I certainly do not ask you to be perfect for me.”
 
“Well,” he chuckled shakily, “that gives me hope since I’m far from perfect. But I still haven’t said what I wanted to say. I learned two things in Denerim. I was so scared when I saw you in that Warden hideaway; you were suffering so much and I finally started to understand what you meant. The other thing, well, umm, I wasn’t expecting to, er, uh,” he was stuttering so much that Jannasilane finally had to put her fingers on his lips. She came to her knees and faced him; even in the light of the moon she could tell he was bright red. She looked at him with wide eyes and he groaned, “When Blake, that is the three of us, I didn’t expect to like it but I knew you needed us and that was enough. But I did. Like it, I mean. When he was touching you and you were looking at me I, um, liked it. More than a little. Not as much as when it was just us but still . . .”
 
Now she was as red as he was, “Yes, I agree. I too think I enjoyed it more than just the release from the Need. I do not think I would enjoy it all the time because I was very full, and I find I prefer a more intimate . . . um, time.”
 
Alistair didn’t think it was a good idea to tell her that just her mentioning being full was causing him to swell. He couldn’t control the huskiness in his voice, however, “That makes it easier to tell you what I’ve been thinking, how to accommodate your Need. When it starts to be too much I mean. If you want to be with me again, that is. I don’t know if I could handle a bunch of strangers, and I’m not saying that to hurt you but just to be honest. But I think I would be more comfortable if we chose some people we could trust like we both trust Blake. ­­What I mean is if I weren’t around for whatever reason and you needed . . . I trust him not to take advantage of you or hurt you. And maybe sometimes, if all of us agreed, the three of us could, you know,” he shrugged.
 
“I did not expect this, you are saying we would select men who would be like a, a backup harem?” her voice squeaked on the last two words.
 
“I suppose it might seem like that,” he answered reluctantly. “I admit I don’t like the idea of you being with somebody else, but I understand now that it might have to happen. I want to be with you, I want to have a real relationship with you and that means living with your Need. I hate how vulnerable you were in Denerim after Riordan disappeared. Sometimes I think about what might have happened if we didn’t show up when we did and it scares me to my toes.”
 
“It scares me too, Ali. In the past some Griffonsong have been able to temporarily stop the Need by, erm, umm, seeking the close company of a non-Warden at a place like The Pearl. I do not want to do that. I think I would go mad,” she shivered and burrowed into his arms, seeking shelter. He stroked her soothingly and wondered why the Maker allowed such things and how many other young Griffonsong there were in Thedas suffering as his Jannasilane suffered. Finally she sat up and looked at him, as if searching his soul, “Ali, are you sure about this? I appreciate the offer but I do not wish to hurt you,” she didn’t add how much she would be hurt if he was wrong about what he could take.
 
“I am sure that I want to try. Nothing can hurt me more than being without you, than you leaving me. I will never love another woman, I know this. If this doesn’t work we’ll try something else. I think if we aren’t together I could at least survive being without you better if I knew we at least tried everything possible to make it work. It’s not going to be easy, love, and I don’t promise not to get jealous sometimes. I would rather be killed by the Archdemon than hurt you again or live life without you, this much I know.”
 
She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder when he talked about dying, “Do not say that, Ali. I do not want you to die.”
 
“Does that mean you’ll think about it? That we have a chance?” he asked hopefully.
 
She nodded, “I have missed you, Alistair. I never dreamed you would be willing to . . .” she waved her hand in the air as she tried to find the words. “I will think on this.”
 
Alistair was disappointed but he figured he really couldn’t expect her to just jump in his arms and the past two months would simply vanish as if they never happened. Jannasilane reluctantly let go of him so she was sitting next to him once again. She wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t want to be with anybody but him, even though that would probably prove to be impossible. That he even made the offer to work with her in finding a solution they could both hopefully live with went a long way to breaking down some of the walls she built between them.
 
Alistair lay back in the grass and pulled her down next to him. He counted it a small victory that she didn’t resist at all and lay down close to him, still holding his hand. They allowed the peace of the night to wash over them, cleansing some of the bitterness she carried. “Janna love, how are you feeling? Since Denerim we haven’t, you haven’t, unless you and Blake . . . not that I’m trying to pry or anything,” he asked her quietly, carefully.
 
She propped herself on her side so she could look at him while she answered him. She lost herself admiring his beauty in the moonlight until he began to stir restlessly under her gaze. She hoped he couldn’t tell she was blushing when she replied, “No, Blake and I have not . . . and I do not think he wants to unless necessary. I know he has feelings for Zevran. The Need is like the darkspawn, even when they are not close enough to sense you know they are somewhere and need to be ready for their attack. I too am surprised, considering how bad it was before you came to Denerim. Maybe it is like your nightmares? My presence helps keep them away and your presence blunts the Need?”
 
“Was it, was it like that with Riordan?” he couldn’t help asking and then wished he hadn’t.
 
Jannasilane looked away then, embarrassed, “I do not know. Um, there were not many days we did not . . . uh, do something.”
 
“Do something? Oh,” he was quiet at first and then asked another question, “Do you miss him?”
 
“I do not like to think of him being held prisoner somewhere,” she hedged. “I think before my Time we were friends. He told me stories of Duncan and my mother and he listened when I talked about the farm where I grew up. We talked about the Grey Wardens, traveling, oh different things. Traveling with him was interesting and easy.” She bit her lip and opted for full disclosure, “later he was, I suppose you could say he was very sophisticated. Perhaps as knowledgeable as Zevran. I do not know that I share all his tastes, though some things . . .” She frowned thoughtfully, “I do miss his company as a friend but I am glad to be back.”
 
“O-o-k-a-y, that’s enough information for now,” he drawled. Then he pulled her on top of him and held her close and whispered in her ear, “I’m glad to have you back.”
 
Later she would think a demon took control of her mouth, “There is one thing I found I enjoyed, Alistair. I liked the feeling of air, and other things,” she illustrated by walking her fingers on his chest, “against my bare skin under my robe while we traveled.”
 
Alistair’s face was blank for a minute until he realized what she meant. His eyes crossed at the idea of touching her so intimately wherever and whenever he wanted, at least when she was in arm’s reach. “Maker,” he gasped, “for the first time in my life I wish I wasn’t so tall.”
 
Jannasilane snickered and soon he joined her. She gasped and wriggled when he didn’t resist the urge to discover whether she wore smallclothes under her robe. He stood and pulled her up. Gently he leaned down to kiss her, pleased she didn’t pull away. He felt he was finally making some progress and he was determined not to push too far too soon.
 
When they strolled back to camp holding hands nobody said anything though Morrigan grimaced in disgust. Alistair had first watch with Shale and walked Jannasilane to their tent before going on duty. Blake soon joined her. He waited until she was comfortably settled before speaking, “You and Alistair have a nice talk, Package? Should I leave you alone tonight?”
 
“Shut up Blake,” she responded and rolled over in a huff. She couldn’t help smiling, though.
 
In his tent Zevran smiled. He was happy that Pocket Goddess and the templar were finding their way back together without any assistance from him. For a while he was worried that he might have to intervene and judging by his success in making plans he was quite satisfied not to be needed. Leliana was also smiling in her tent. She loved a good romance and went to sleep composing one about the innocent templar and the ‘package’ which changed his life.
 
Alistair couldn’t wait for his patrol to be over. He tended to agree with Blake that they didn’t really need to set watch any longer now that they had the never-sleeping Shale but the warrior in him wasn’t ready to give way on the issue. At least with Shale around he didn’t have to take night patrol so often. The golem usually didn’t bother talking to him, which was fine, but tonight was different. “I have noticed that it frequently seeks the company of the mini it.”
 
“Uh, true,” Alistair acknowledged.
 
“And the mini it does not seem to mind even though there are more worthy individuals for the mini its attention. It was surly and now it makes silly jokes to cover its many weaknesses,” Shale continued.
 
“Also true, and believe me I am grateful,” Alistair said with gritted teeth, determined not to lose his temper.
 
“The swamp witch says you and the mini it share a tent with the other Warden because you need him to direct you in how to *ugh* do fleshy, messy, coupling things. I am not sure I believe the swamp witch but its sleeping arrangements are unusual, as far as I know. Just make sure that the three of you do not do any of your disgusting squishy things near me. Too often in Honnleath a couple would do things in my shade. I didn’t like it. If I could I would have squished their tiny heads.”
 
Alistair didn’t know whether to lash out at Shale or burst into laughter at the entire ridiculous conversation. He finally just shook his head, “I’ll spread the word. No squishy creature messy business near you or suffer the consequences. Well, maybe I won’t tell Morrigan.” This was answered with a kind of wheezing which sounded like it might be the golem laughing. Fortunately for Alistair’s sanity they passed the rest of their patrol in silence.
 
When Alistair returned to his tent he allowed the moonlight to filter in and shine on his family. Blake was his brother and friend as well as his comrade-in-arms. He appreciated how protective he was of Jannasilane, that Blake would never let anyone harm his new ‘little sister’ while he drew breath. Then he gazed upon Jannasilane, the woman he adored, and her beauty nearly took his breath away. He didn’t know how he knew that there would never be another love for him, but it was as much fact as his being a man and her being a woman. Carefully he took off his armor and lay next to her, taking hold of her hand and kissing her fingers as a way of saying goodnight. For the first time since before Soldier’s Peak she snuggled into his embrace without any encouragement from him. He smiled and kissed the top of her head and said a prayer to the Maker, thanking Him for the gift of this deceptively tiny woman.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 34: Trouble at the Princess
 
They were back on the road and Alistair waited until Blake was alone before he asked the question burning in his brain from the moment they set out, “Why is Sten leading?”
 
Blake told him Sten’s story, “So I told him we would look for his sword. Apparently he can’t go home without it. If he tries he’ll be killed on sight as a deserter, a ‘Tal-Vashoth.’”
 
“Ouch, that’s a bit harsh, but there are a lot of things I don’t understand about their Qun,” Alistair mused. Blake agreed. “What if we don’t find it?”
 
“Hopefully we’ll at least get a lead. It’d be a shame if he helps us slay the Archdemon and he’s not able to go home. He must have family, though not family as we know it. If I could never see Highever again . . .” his expression became unbearably sad at the possibility.
 
Alistair put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll find Sten’s sword and we’ll take care of Howe,” he promised.
 
Jannasilane came running up to them, “Sten says it is beyond the next field. Blake, what is wrong?” She hugged him though she didn’t know why he seemed to need the comfort.
 
“I just wanted to feel the luscious curves of a beautiful woman in my arms,” he said, smiling when she hit him in a huff. “Have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy your plump breasts and the roundness of your ass? But now I must go to Sten,” he hurried off, grinning at the temper he left for Alistair to handle.
 
Alistair was both exasperated and amused at Blake’s antics. He tried to suppress his grin when he looked down at the angry and embarrassed Jannasilane. He knew he didn’t succeed when she glared at him and stamped her foot, causing her magnificent bosom to quiver with outrage. Before the storm broke he hastily took both her hands in his, “he was thinking about the possibility of never seeing Highever again. Even if we survive the Blight.”
 
Her temper softened and she leaned against Alistair, “Poor Blake. I wonder if it is easier for me because I know my home is gone now. Between the fire and the darkspawn there will be nothing for me to return to. For him, his home is not gone but out of reach, that must be difficult.”Alistair noticed her brushing her arms where the gouges were mostly healed and frowned. He wasn’t surprised when she spoke again. “Alistair,” Jannasilane looked fixedly at his chest, “we will soon be at the Spoiled Princess. Do you think we might get a room?”
 
He knelt down so he could look her in the eyes. She was blushing and tried to avoid his gaze but he was having none of it. He held her chin and kissed her trembling lips, “Is the Need starting to bother you, my love?” She nodded miserably and flushed even more at the understanding in his voice. “Do you really want to wait? I’m sure Blake would understand if we asked him for some privacy.”
 
She shook her head, “It is not so bad yet. This will be the first time we’ve been together since Denerim and I prefer the extra privacy of the Inn.” She was quiet and then burst out angrily, “I would prefer not to be with you because of some impersonal beast of Need but instead . . .” she shook her head fiercely and then shrugged despondently, “Instead that is not the case. I do not have the luxury to wait until I am sure of my own desires.”
 
Alistair ached for her on so many levels. He hugged her and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing deeply of her scent, “I love you, Jannasilane Alenahaella. You may not be ready to accept it but I can be patient when the prize is so well worth the wait. Until then my heart and my bedroll are yours whenever you need them, even if it is simply to meet your Need.” He grinned a little and licked her neck, “Until you are ready to say you love me you can abuse my poor body as often as necessary and I will suffer stoically.”
 
“You have developed a surprisingly wicked tongue, Alistair Theirin,” she leaned back so she could look him in the face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gently bit his ear, “I think I like it.” Then she danced out of his embrace and lightly ran away, leaving him hard but smiling in anticipation.
 
Carefully he stood. Metal armor was more than a little constricting in his current state. He took a deep breath, let it out and then went looking for Blake, “Need to let him know we want a room at the Princess. I hope this time we don’t need him.” He found their leader standing with Sten overlooking the land between them and Lake Calenhad. “Did you find the place where you were attacked?” he asked the silent Qunari.
 
“Yes.”
 
Alistair looked at Blake to see if he would elaborate on the stoic Sten’s reply but Blake just smirked at him. Alistair rolled his eyes, “Do you plan on telling us where it is? I, for one, am willing to help search but not without a bit more information.”
 
“I have informed the Warden. That is sufficient. This task requires concentration and you are too easily distracted with the irrelevant.”
 
“First Shale and now Sten, the joys of camp life I suppose, no privacy allowed,” Alistair grumbled to himself. “I’ll have you know I am a champion multitasker. Since your sword is not crucial to our mission I’d think you want as many eyes working on your behalf as possible. Your sword isn’t that small, is it?” he challenged the large Qunari. “Or you could stay behind and look for it by yourself while we get on with the important business.” He lifted an eyebrow and waited.
 
Sten looked at him. “Humph,” he grunted, “so you do have a spine. Pity you don’t use it more often.”
 
Blake hid his amusement, “Now that that’s settled . . . Alistair I want you to make sure everybody gets packed up as quickly as possible. Sten and I will go on ahead, it’s not far and I don’t sense any darkspawn. If Zevran, Leliana or Package is ready send them and General Lee along to join us. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find the sword before you get there.” He went off whistling, Sten striding at his side.
 
Since camp was mostly ready it didn’t take long before they were all on the move and catching up to their leader. When they reached him Blake was talking to an odd, bandy-legged man who was looking at him with a mixture of fear and defiance. “---you’re surrounded by corpses!”
 
“They’re mine,” the scavenger asserted. “Well, not mine but I have the rights to them and everythin’ around ‘em.”
 
“Did you find a Qunari sword, by any chance?”
 
“What’s it to you?”
 
“It’s mine,” Sten intervened for the first time in the conversation.
 
“Faryn didn’t say nothing ‘bout no giants,” the scavenger muttered. He burst out, “I know, I got done. That squirrelly bastard didn’t tell me the place was all but picked clean. I found pieces of a leather glove, maybe, and that’s it. He’s at Orzammar by now, ratty looking fellow, tell him I sent you. Ha!” The scavenger turned his back on them and gazed sadly at the area he was working with little hope of finding anything.
 
“I’m sorry, Sten, but we’ll catch up to this Faryn when we get to Orzammar. Fortunately we have to go there anyway,” Blake offered.
 
“It is more information than I had before. Thank you, Warden,” Sten moved to take his usual place in the group.
 
“If he got to Orzammar safely he’s likely going to be there for a long time. I doubt many merchants are traveling the roads and he doesn’t sound like the sort to be able to pay for guards,” Alistair offered his opinion. While he had Blake’s attention he added, “Jannasilane and I want to get a room at the Spoiled Princess.”
 
Blake’s eyes twinkled wickedly, “A romantic evening or . . .?”
 
Alistair sighed, “Hopefully some of both but definitely . . .” He knew Blake would understand what he meant.
 
“Ah,” Blake said, “I’m sure we need to replenish some of our mages’ supplies by now anyway. Let’s go. We should be there by this evening. I have to admit, I always enjoy an excuse not to set up camp.”
 
It started to rain before they reached the inn. The wet Wardens went inside to see about rooms and ask a few questions. Alistair grabbed Jannasilane’s hand and gently tugged her inside with them. The innkeeper was pleased to see them again until Blake started asking questions about Brother Genitivi; when he heard the name ‘Genitivi’ his smile became fixed and nervous. Blake went subtly on alert while maintaining his appearance of casual inquiry. Jannasilane fixed her gaze on the innkeeper and Alistair shifted slightly to be ready for trouble and idly played with her hair. “Sorry, the person you’re looking for isn’t here. I’ve never heard of him,” the innkeeper said loudly. In a bare whisper he added, “They’re watching. Don’t look!” he hissed. “Some knights were here looking for him and that was the last I saw of them. You best be careful. I don’t think it’s wise for you to stay around here.” He leaned back and started polishing a mug, “Sorry I can’t help you, but maybe an ale before you leave?” he said in an approximation of normality.
 
“Thanks, but I guess we better move on. Maybe next time,” Blake said casually. Sotto voce he added, “Don’t worry, this will be over soon.” They strolled out of the Princess back into the rain where they were immediately attacked. These were no common thugs but an experienced squad able enough to defeat well-trained knights travelling in no more than groups of two or three but they were no match for the Wardens and their companions. Blake rummaged through their armor and took their packs. He sent Morrigan, Zevran, Sten and Leliana out on a search for a nearby campsite, if there was one. He, Alistair and the others went back inside.  
 
The innkeeper was stunned when he saw them return, “I, I can’t b-believe it’s over. You did it,” he whispered. “Oh thank the Maker! They threatened to kill my family, my wife and son. They made sure I knew they were watching, always watching. I don’t know who this Brother Genitivi is that everybody’s looking for or why he’s so important and I don’t want to know. You have my eternal gratitude for ending this nightmare. Oh, my name is Fred. The least I can do is offer you rooms on the house and the wife’ll do a bang up breakfast,” he babbled on and on. “Let me show you to your rooms, if you’re hungry we’ve got plenty of bread and butter and cheese we can set out for you. And wine and ale of course . . . here, you’ll probably want this room for you and your lady. It’s the only bed big enough for you.”
 
“Big enough for all three of us, come to that,” thought Alistair. He looked down at Jannasilane and wondered what she was thinking, her expression was oddly pensive. “Janna, my love, why don’t you go ahead and get settled. Take our packs with you. I’ll be back soon with some food and wine,” tenderly he brushed his hand over her hair. She looked at him and he thought she was about to say something but instead she nodded and took their packs with her into the room.
 
Back at the bar they saw the innkeeper’s wife had indeed packed the bar with food. She even had some fruit tarts and some dried meat along with the bread and cheese. “He obviously remembers what it’s like to feed two Wardens and a small Package,” Blake smiled in appreciation and greed. His and Alistair’s stomachs rumbled loudly at almost the same time. They grabbed a little food while waiting for the others to return with their report. Alistair was impatient to get back to their room but contented himself with filling a tray to take back with him and munching on some cheese while having a private word with Blake.
 
“Ah, Grey Wardens,” Zevran began speaking as soon as they hurried through the door, “you will be pleased to know we found no evidence of more of the dastardly fiends.”
 
Leliana elaborated, “We found three camp sites, between them they would know everything that was happening. All signs point to their joining the attack; nothing indicates that even one may have stayed back or slipped away. I would say they had their routine down pretty well. At least one of them would be in the inn at all times while the others watched and waited for a sign. I am glad we have put an end to their misdeeds.”
 
“Good,” Blake answered. “I thought that might be the case. Fred,” he indicated the innkeeper, “has graciously offered us rooms for tonight as well as this buffet and breakfast in the morning. Enjoy it while you can. Shale and General Lee will spend the night on guard in the main room, not that I’m expecting more trouble but I expect Fred’s family will sleep better after all that’s happened.” As soon as he was done speaking most of them went straight for the food. Alistair picked up the tray and left, followed by Leliana who wanted to change into dry clothes before doing anything else.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 35: Managing the Beast
 
Blake watched Alistair leave out of the corner of his eye. He envied the templar. He might have a difficult road ahead of him but at least he was on a path which might give him his heart’s desire. He couldn’t envision a similar happy ending for himself, not since Zevran’s confession at Redcliffe. He knew that he could find some release with Package, though that was playing against her need, and he didn’t want to do that. He wondered what happened with other Griffonsong, assuming there were any. He resolved the next time they were near a fairly clean brothel he would take advantage of what they had to offer. Somehow that thought didn’t make him feel any better.
 
Everybody ate well. Leliana was talking to Sten hoping to learn more about him and the Qunari. Zevran was being equally irritating to the two mages, to Blake’s amusement. One advantage to a Warden’s appetite: eating was such serious business nobody was willing to interrupt him. Soon everybody else went to their rooms and he was able to spread the items belonging to the attackers on one of the tables. He was making notes in his journal and slowly drinking some ale when he heard a rustling sound. He looked up to see Morrigan approaching. Silently he waited while she sat down.
 
In their room Alistair pushed open the door and saw Jannasilane standing on the bed and leaning against the wall, still dressed in her robe. He cocked an eyebrow and offered her the tray. She picked up a fruit tart and bit into it. Alistair was transfixed as he watched the juice dribble down her chin until she wiped it with one finger, a finger which she slowly put into her mouth and sucked clean. “Put the tray on the table, Alistair,” she softly commanded in a husky voice. He shut the door with the back of his foot and did as she bade. Quickly he began removing his armor until she stopped him, “No, my Ali, I want to watch you disrobe slowly so I can enjoy the movement of all your muscles.”
 
For a moment Alistair froze with sheer lust. He stared at her and surely she should have been burned by the heat in his gaze before he, very slowly, began removing his armor. He only looked away from her to hang his armor and clothing on the hooks provided. Her breathing quickened as more of him came into view. She was hypnotized by the movement of muscle on muscle. When he was fully naked she sucked in her breath, “Maker, he is so beautiful,” and couldn’t conceal her own lust from him, which caused him to swell even more. “This is a beautiful bed, come and lie down, Alistair.” He could no more resist her siren’s call than he could stop the sun from rising in the morning. He lay down, looking up at her and knowing instinctively he shouldn’t reach for her just then. “Place your hands on the headboard behind you and do not let go until I say,” she directed. He hesitated for a heartbeat and she questioned him, “Do you not trust me, my Alistair?”
 
“With everything I am and everything that I will ever become,” he answered promptly. He grasped the headboard and waited with curiosity and anticipation.
 
Tenderness filled her gaze for a moment and then Jannasilane moved until she was standing over and straddling his feet. “I always feel your gaze watching me, Alistair.” She smoothed her hands over her breasts and down her sides, his eyes tracking every movement. She loosened her robe and lowered it until her breasts were free. She held them in her hands, “Do you like what you see, my Ali,” never doubting the answer. He positively groaned when she slowly shrugged it off and she was standing naked before him. She knelt and he swore he could feel her heat scant inches from his skin. She caressed his calves and kneaded the muscles before slowly moving to his thighs, “You have such strong legs, muscles upon muscles, no wonder you wear that heavy armor with such ease.” She trailed her fingers into a brief caress of his manhood, “so mighty,” she breathed.
 
Alistair nearly whimpered when she moved. She circled his navel with her fingers and his skin quivered. “Sometimes when your chin rasps across my belly or you lick me just so I feel a hot spear of desire down to my curling toes,” and promptly demonstrated, causing him to jump and moan. She lightly rapped his manhood in rebuke, “be still.” Her hands massaged his abdomen and up his chest, tangling in his chest hair. “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy playing with your hair on your chest? So thick and curly and crinkly.”
 
“If this is torture I hope it goes on for a long time,” Alistair thought when she bent down and licked one of nipples and tweaked the other with her fingers. She nuzzled his chest hair and began nibbling along his shoulder and neck. “Or maybe not,” when she teased his earlobe gently between her teeth and whispered soft kisses across his cheeks to his mouth. He opened for her dancing tongue and stopped breathing when she moved above him. He closed his eyes and savored the sensations.
 
When she moved away he opened his eyes to see her breasts swaying temptingly above him. He licked suddenly dry lips. “Alistair, I love the feel of your tongue and lips on my breasts,” she moved so one nipple was touching his mouth. She moaned with pleasure when he engulfed it, his teeth and tongue performing intricate movements which nearly had her writhing with need. “Must, must play fair,” she was breathing harshly as she moved so he could pay attention to the other one. The stubble on his chin rasping against her skin was nearly too much but she was determined to finish as she planned and with great reluctance she moved away and sat above his groin, his manhood at her back.
 
He nearly howled in frustration and she was quivering all over. “Alistair, I want you to bend your knees so I can brace myself against your strong thighs.” He gulped and complied. His eyes glazed as she knelt, braced against his legs and less than in inch between his tip and her entrance. Jannasilane watched his eyes track the movements of her hands as she bunched her breasts together and lightly stroked them with her fingers. They gleamed when she slowly caressed her way down her torso to the curls between her legs. He trembled when one of her fingers disappeared in and out of sight, rhythmically brushing against his tip.
 
“Janna,” he growled, his voice strained and husky with need, “I can’t . . . hold . . . on much longer.”
 
Her eyes glittered with sharp amber lights and she braced herself on his chest with one hand. With her damp finger she rubbed his lips, “Soon, my Ali, soon.” For answer he caught her finger in his mouth, lightly biting and licking, tasting her essence. It was her turn to whimper. She sat back against his legs and breathed deeply. She never let her gaze leave his eyes as she slowly slid down until she was barely in contact with his straining member. “Now, Ali, now you can let go.”
 
The words were barely past her lips when his hands were on her hips and then with one thrust he was buried in damp heat. “Maker, yes!” he yelled, for once not caring if he was heard throughout Thedas. He wouldn’t let her move; she was going to have to ride it out. She grabbed onto his forearms and braced herself until they were both falling into the abyss. She collapsed against his chest, mewing softly. He used his remaining strength to move his hands from her hips to her rear and stroked gently. They could feel each other’s heart pounding with exertion until gradually their heartbeats calmed to a more normal rhythm. “Maker, Janna,” Alistair began when he realized he could breathe again, “that was . . . wow. Why? You don’t normally, I’m not complaining mind you, but why?”
 
It seemed a long time before she answered. “I am sorry, Alistair,” her first words surprised him. “I should not have used you like that.” Jannasilane sighed and sat up beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I have been thinking; I may not be able to control the Need but perhaps I can manage it. A little. I do not ever want to be like I was in Denerim if I can help it. I, this may sound odd, but I thought I might take advantage of it to, um, well, learn.” She turned away from him then, “And maybe I still wanted to punish you, make you feel a little of how I feel about the, the lack of control.”
 
Alistair blinked several times as he struggled to process everything she was saying, “O-kay, heavy waters here, Alistair you better be very careful in how you reply.” He sat up and noticed the table of food and was suddenly ravenous. He plucked his love into his arms and stood, swaying only slightly, and walked the three steps before sitting down again in a chair with Jannasilane still in his arms. He settled her in his lap before breaking off some bread and handing it to her, “Eat. We both need some food.” Startled she looked up at him only to find her gaze skittering away. She concentrated on eating, nibbling really, the bread he gave her. For a moment Alistair gave his full attention to making a sandwich with the dried meat and cheese. He sliced some more to have it ready before taking a bite.
 
He chewed, thinking how to answer her. He kept one arm around her so she couldn’t squirm away, though she showed no signs of doing so. He wondered if it was perverse of him to enjoy sitting at the table like this, both of them naked and decided he didn’t really care. He took a sip of wine before speaking, “First, I understand how angry you feel about not having control over something so basic.” If she had looked up just then she would have seen an unaccustomed bleakness fall over his expression before he looked off into a distance only he could see. “Most of my life I’ve been angry because other people were making decisions about my life, everything about my life, with no regard to what I wanted or even needed. Duncan knew I wanted to leave the Chantry but he had to invoke the Right of Conscription to do it. I believe the Grey Wardens are a worthy order, even though I’ve had to adjust some of my thinking, and their goal is certainly a worthy one. But still I did not get to choose.”
 
Jannasilane stirred in his arms and looked up at him, “Oh, Ali, I am so sorry. I was not even thinking of that.”
 
Alistair kissed away the tears trembling on her lashes. “Don’t fret, my love, I think it’s easier for me because I know who to blame. I can focus my anger on Isolde, Eamon, Maric, even the Grand Cleric. You don’t have a target for your anger, not a living one anyway.” She relaxed against him and reached for more bread and meat. He breathed out a mental sigh of relief, “You know, I’m not sure I feel punished enough. You’ll have to be more thorough next time.” He grinned and kissed the top of her head when she elbowed him but made no attempt to move out of his embrace. They ate companionably for several minutes, concentrating on slaking their hunger. “So, what did you mean by managing your need and learning?”
 
“I do not know much about s-sex,” she replied, trying not to stutter. “The, the Need means that I am almost forced to achieve a, a, I guess you could say a level of sat-satisfaction whether the,” she huffed in frustration, “whether the particular, umm, activity is one I would choose for myself.” Her lips curled slightly as she recalled an incident with Riordan near Denerim when they were hiding from some troops. She brooded for a moment and Alistair decided he really did not want or need to know what Riordan did which caused that reaction. “On the other hand,” she finally continued, “this does mean I can more easily try things which I would not ordinarily think to do. I do not think I would have thought of you, me and Blake being together without the Need driving me to insanity. I was surprised that I enjoyed it as much as I did, I only expected to relieve the Need but it was more.”
 
“So you might find physical satisfaction because of the Need without feeling any personal pleasure; you can tell the difference between what satisfies the Need alone and what satisfies you as well?” Alistair wanted to make sure he understood what she was saying. She nodded, pleased he understood the difference. “So if I, or your partner wants to do something you never thought about you can take it as a, I dunno, a learning experience? And the worst that would happen is the Need is taken care of and you know you don’t really want to do that, whatever that is?”
 
“Well, I suppose it would be worse if I did not choose to be with that person and they had no concern or respect for me and did not care how they left me.” Alistair couldn’t argue with that. “If I, Jannasilane Alenahaella, do not care for what you do I will tell you. As part of managing, well, you do not need to wait until I feel Need clawing at me, Alistair. I know you have been holding back, did you think I did not notice your desire?”
 
“I never, ever wanted to take advantage of you or your condition, my love. I wanted to show you how much I respect you and how much you mean to me; and if that meant waiting until you felt Need then I was happy to wait. Just sleeping with you in my arms gives me a sense of happiness.”
 
Jannasilane was touched, “I believe you, my Ali. I think I prefer to be able to choose when to be with you rather than be dictated to by Need. I also feel that the Need is less likely to take over if I do not wait for it.” She grew positively coquettish and waggled her finger at him, “This does not mean I will say yes to your advances just because you ask. I could choose to say ‘no,’” she playfully warned him.
 
“Yes, but not tonight. Not when you’re sitting naked in my arms and we’re mere steps away from a giant bed. I have the sudden urge to taste some Janna Wine,” he growled and picked her up as well as grabbing the bottle of wine. She giggled until he poured some of the wine on her breast and then licked it off. She gasped and willingly relinquished control.
 
Downstairs Morrigan didn’t speak right away but when he started to go back to his journal she spoke up, “Warden, thank you.” She watched Blake carefully. She did not like being in this position and was ready to leave if he so much as blinked in a way she didn’t like. “In your position you could have easily taken the single room and I would have been forced to either share with the Chantry duo or make my own arrangements; both would have been less comfortable.”
 
“You’re welcome, though I feel obliged to point out that Alistair was worried you might turn Leliana into a toad if you were forced to spend the night in the same room.” He was intrigued to see her mouth twitch slightly in what could only be amusement. “Do you mind if I ask you something? What was it like growing up in the Wilds? Weren’t you ever lonely?”
 
“Why do you ask such questions? I don’t bother you with such things,” she replied crossly.
 
“It’s one of my favorite ways to annoy you,” he retorted.
 
“So I’ve noticed.” Once again Blake saw her mouth twitch. “Very well, if you must know I shall answer. I am not sure if I was lonely or not since ‘twas only Flemeth and I in that hut, and she kept me quite busy teaching me her magic. Even my, I suppose you would call it play time, I was often running through the Wilds with the wolves or flying as an owl. The animals themselves were my companions, though not my friends. Other people were far more alien to me and I did not miss what I did not understand. Once I saw a caravan stopped at the edge of the Wilds. A young girl with gold curls was looking at herself in a mirror and I was intrigued. It was gold and covered in gemstones. When I saw an opportunity I grabbed it and ran away hugging it to my chest, my own personal treasure.”
 
“Was Flemeth upset?”
 
“Upset? No, she was furious. She grabbed the mirror out of my hands and dashed it to the ground, breaking it into hundreds of tiny pieces. I had risked bringing the templars or others to our door with my foolishness and she was determined to teach me a lesson. A pretty bauble or temporary pleasure is unimportant. Survival is important and must be taken into consideration with every action.” She shook her head slightly, “You may not agree, Warden, but I would not be the mage I am without those lessons.”
 
“You’ve certainly made a difference. I’m glad you decided to stay with us.” Morrigan started to rise but Blake stopped her, “Morrigan, wait. I have something for you. I admit I forgot about it for a while and I also didn’t want Wynne to see it in case she recognized it.” He rummaged in the bottom of his pack and unwrapped the book he removed. “This is what you were hoping for, isn’t it?”
 
Morrigan’s eyes lit up, reminding Blake that she was an extraordinarily beautiful woman and perhaps not quite as cold as he and Alistair thought. “Mother’s grimoire, you found it,” she stroked the cover in reverence before looking up at Blake and smiling brilliantly. “Truly I did not expect you to be successful; it was such a small possibility. There is much Flemeth refused to teach me or tell me. I have much to learn, thank you Warden.”
 
Just then they heard Alistair shout to the Maker. They looked up before Morrigan sniffed disdainfully. “Worshiping at the altar of the toy, I see,” she muttered.
 
Blake laughed, “Worshipping at the . . . I like that. I’ll have to use it on him, if you don’t mind.”
 
“Feel free; I have no inclination to spend much time in his company. Maybe I should be grateful to your toy for keeping him so occupied and away from me,” she snorted. “Is that why you are down here?”
 
Blake shrugged, “sometimes writing things down helps me organize my thoughts or see things differently, remind me of something I forgot. I don’t know what’s going on with the whole Sacred Ashes business and would prefer to know a little bit more before we confront Weylon in Denerim. I want to question him before he knows something is wrong with his fellows. I really hate it when people send us into a trap,” he said grimly.
 
The witch stifled a laugh and idly examined the bits and pieces on the table. She picked up a belt buckle and looked at it more closely, “This looks familiar. It doesn’t make sense, though. What would a dragon cult have to do with Andraste’s Ashes, if they even exist? We should be careful Warden. If we are indeed dealing with cultists then their fanaticism will drive them beyond any concern for personal safety.” Finally she stood, “My thanks again, Warden, for both the room and the grimoire. Both are appreciated.” She glided silently away.
 
Blake shook his head at the strange turn the night had taken. “Dragon cultists? I hope not,” he muttered. He watched Morrigan leave. He still wasn’t ready to trust her or call her friend, but she wasn’t as cold or unlikeable as she tried to be. He went back to studying the items he retrieved from their attackers in the light of Morrigan’s hypothesis and making more notes. He kept at it until he felt he had done as much as he could. Finally he stretched and gathered up his things to go to their room.
 
He was tired. He carefully turned the knob and was relieved to find it unlocked. He went inside and saw Alistair had left a lamp lit for him. “Honey, I’m home,” he thought wryly and carefully hung up his armor before slipping into bed. “Sharing the bed is certainly different from sharing our tent,” he struggled to get comfortable without disturbing the other two. His friend was on his back with arms around the pretty Package sprawled across his chest. She turned her head and looked at him sleepily. She smiled at him and reached for his hand before closing her eyes again. He kissed her fingers which caused her to snort softly in amusement and soon he, too, was asleep.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 36: Plans for the Battle Song
 
When Jannasilane woke she found herself firmly sandwiched between the two men. For a moment she wished they weren’t quite so big or she wasn’t so small, it was difficult to move from the bottom of the dip in the mattress without waking them up. Blake’s arm was across her waist and Alistair’s hand was cupping her breast. She snickered softly to herself, “That and my rear are the favorite resting places for my Ali’s hands. I am surprised they are not permanently curved.” She looked into the face of her sleeping warrior and smiled. If Alistair had opened his eyes just then he would have seen the love she was still too afraid to express. Very carefully she moved Blake’s arm and he simply rolled away from her. She tried moving Alistair’s hand so she could ease out of bed but his response was to hold onto her more firmly. She sighed and tried again to no effect. Finally she resorted to a light elbow to his chest before he loosened his hold. Of course he woke up and looked at her reproachfully but she motioned to the sleeping Blake and indicated she didn’t want to wake him.
 
Carefully they eased out of bed and got dressed. Alistair felt strange not putting his armor on first thing but it felt kind of nice, too. He wasn’t leaving without his sword, however. As they made their way down the hall he noticed that Jannasilane kept falling behind. Finally he turned around and confronted her, “Why are you walking behind me instead of with me?” She smirked and didn’t answer. “Janna . . .,” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
 
Jannasilane fluttered her eyelashes at him, “Because, my Ali, I enjoy watching you walk and do not often get a chance to do so without your armor.” Alistair flushed in pleased embarrassment. She continued, “I like watching the play of your muscles. I would like it even more if you no clothes on at all but that would not be appropriate in a public hallway.” He gawped at her, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly like a fish before he turned around and continued on his way. He looked at her over his shoulder and saw she was staring at him and blushed like a schoolgirl. Jannasilane thought she saw him grinning but wasn’t sure, nor was she sure what he was mumbling; only that it was something about women.
 
“I find it a little easier to understand why you are with him,” Morrigan startled Jannasilane. “He still wouldn’t be my first choice but you are correct; it is a pleasure to watch such a well-muscled young man.” She’d just opened the door to her room and heard and saw the entire exchange.
 
It was Jannasilane’s turn to blush. Then she couldn’t help snickering and fell into step with the witch. If Alistair turned around he would have seen two women watching him. “Morrigan,” she said after a brief and rarely companionable silence, “I would like to speak to you and Wynne about something after breakfast. I have an idea but do not know if it can be done, and I would need one or both of you to accomplish it, I think.”
 
Morrigan’s curiosity was aroused. She didn’t care for them, the Circle mage and the Warden’s toy, and wondered what the toy had in mind. “Very well, after breakfast we shall speak further and you can explain what it is you wish of me,” she said and glided off.
 
“Good morning, Shale. Good morning, General Lee,” Jannasilane practically sang the words she was in such a good mood. She smiled to see Alistair placing cups of coffee on the table for the two of them. She came up behind him and gave his butt a quick grab and fondle before sitting down, something she’d never done before.
 
Alistair started and just barely prevented himself from squeaking, which would have caused him to blush in absolute mortification with Morrigan and Shale in the room. Quickly he sat down before she could do anything else. He leaned to whisper in her ear, “You are a wicked, wicked woman, do you know that?” He trailed his fingers on her thigh before giving her knee a squeeze under the table. He paused and thought a moment, “Does this have anything to do with, you know . . . ?”
 
She tilted her head thoughtfully, “No, I don’t think so. I just had this urge,” her face became pink. “I’m sorry if it was inappropriate.”
 
“No, no, don’t apologize,” he said quickly. “I like your temper and feistiness. Does this mean you are going to manhandle me at every opportunity?” Alistair asked hopefully. Jannasilane giggled and shrugged her shoulders. Alistair lifted an eyebrow, “I consider myself forewarned,” he said wryly. He spoiled the effect by leaning down and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.
 
“Ugh,” Morrigan grimaced. “I think I’m losing my appetite.”
 
“I think it’s sweet,” chimed the newly arrived Leliana.
 
Fred the innkeeper came in with his wife, both of them carrying large platters of food. He hadn’t exaggerated when he said his wife would make them a great breakfast. There was bacon, sausage, eggs, toasted bread as well as untoasted, fruit tarts, cheese tarts, hot sweet porridge and more fruit. Butter, soft cheese, jams and jellies came out next. He remembered the Wardens’ appetite from the last time they were at Lake Calenhad, as well as that of some of their companions. Nobody waited for the others to arrive before filling their plates though it wasn’t long before the entire party was gathered around the bounty. For several minutes the only sounds were people happily selecting their food and savoring their choices. Fred and his wife were busy refilling coffee, whisking away empty platters and bringing out more. Zevran sat next to the pocket goddess and beside him sat Blake. Zevran once again marveled at how much the small woman could eat. He supposed her appetite was something she inherited from her Grey Warden father.
 
”Blake,” she addressed their leader while buttering yet another piece of bread only this time she spread some cheese on it before topping it off with plum preserves. “Do we have enough money for me to get another robe, or even two? The ones Alistair found are quite fine but even enchantments don’t change the fact they are cloth. I thought I could go with Wynne and see if they have anything available at the Circle.” She took a bite of her loaded bread and closed her eyes, “Mmm, this is good. Do you wish a bite Ali?” She held it up so he could sample. Alistair decided to tease her and took a deliberately large bite. Jannasilane looked at the little bit remaining with regret, “I suppose you left more than General Lee would have. Are you part mabari, by any chance?”
 
Blake laughed, “He did say he was raised by dogs the first time I asked him about himself,” Blake reminded them. Those that heard joined in the laughter at the templar’s expense. He watched Zevran prepare another slice of bread for Package and thought the elf certainly was trying to repair the damage he caused. She obviously thought so since she smiled at the Antivan. Blake didn’t miss the fact that Zevran relaxed ever so slightly when she did. Without giving away any of what he was thinking he answered, “I’ll give you some coin and you can try. We can’t have you fighting darkspawn in complete rags, although . . .” he waggled his eyebrows in a mock leer.
 
“I shall speak with Wynne, then,” Jannasilane said in an attempt to ignore him though her blush indicated she wasn’t entirely successful. She added a few more things to her plate before moving so she could speak to Wynne and Morrigan. Alistair watched her leave, the sway of her hips mesmerizing him. She turned around once and flushed. She cleared her throat, “Warden, you must practice your meditation exercises with Alistair again. It is important. You can do so while we are at the Circle.” She continued on her way, not realizing how imperious she sounded just then.
 
“The little pocket goddess can sound quite the bossy queen, can she not?” Zevran was amused. Now that she was gone he could enjoy one of his favorite pastimes, baiting the templar. “Are you a religious man, Alistair?” he took a delicate bite of sausage. Antiva was far superior in most ways when it came to food, but he admitted to himself that Ferelden had a knack with the deceptively simple sausage.
 
Alistair frowned a little, “Not particularly. I don’t suppose you are, not in your line of work.”
 
Before Zevran could answer Blake intervened. It was the perfect opportunity, “Now, don’t underestimate your devotion, Alistair. You were certainly worshipping at the altar of Package last night.” He enjoyed watching his friend choke and flounder.
 
Zevran’s eyes gleamed, “Maker, yes. I could not help but notice your, shall we say enthusiastic, belief last night. Even though you were a templar I did not take you for such a firm believer before now.” Alistair glared at the two of them and simply began eating again. He’d already learned when either of them was in a mood like this he was no match for their repartee. Later . . .
 
From across the room the two mages and Jannasilane eyed the exchange between the three men. Wynne shook her head and Morrigan smiled catlike at the templar’s discomfort. “So, what is it you wish to discuss with us?” she questioned the toy.
 
“Do you remember at Redcliffe when we were fighting T-teagan?” she surprised them. “When I . . . shrieked? Although I think I prefer battle song to shriek.” Both mages nodded, they each had experienced a ringing in the ears for some time afterwards. “It has since occurred to me that maybe we could find a way to keep it from affecting, or at least minimizing the effect on us. Do either of you know of any enchantments which could, not block all sounds but perhaps muffle or filter out certain sounds?”
 
“That would certainly be helpful, to incapacitate the darkspawn without suffering ourselves. An amulet? No, it would be too far to focus on our ears and be selective in which sounds to block. At least I think this would be the case,” Morrigan mulled over the problem.
 
“I know of some spells which involve sound. I understand you wish to come to the Circle with me, we shall consult Irving. His knowledge is vast and he might be able to help tweak a spell or two. The problem is still delivery, isn’t it? Morrigan and I can’t afford to use mana in a battle to continually cast and recast a spell,” Wynne frowned.
 
Leliana had quietly come up to join them, “What about earrings?” All of them looked at Sten then farther up the room to where the Wardens and Zevran were talking, bickering or whatever.
 
“Would they even consent to wear earrings? Men can be very stubborn about such things, in my experience,” replied Wynne.
 
“Thick, plain hoops should be masculine enough. Zevran already wears an earring sometimes and it is a bit more decorative. He won’t be a problem,” asserted the redhead.
 
“Really?” asked Jannasilane, “I was thinking if we promised they would be very pretty earrings they might be more agreeable. Lots of sparkle,” she added.
 
The other three women looked at her is if she were out of her mind until they saw the mischievous glint in her eye. Then they eyed the men, picturing them in sparkly, dangly earring and started laughing. Leliana added to their hilarity, “Perhaps we could add some charms like kittens or flowers.”
 
“They’re laughing at us, why are they laughing at us?” Alistair wanted to know.
 
Blake rolled his eyes, “They’re laughing at you, Alistair, what else is new?”
 
“No, no, I think for once the big handsome templar is correct. Something is amusing them and it is not just Alistair. They glance from one man to the other and start giggling again. Even the exotic witch of the wilds giggles, a most extraordinary event to be sure. By the way, Warden, I shall accompany Wynne of the magical bosom and the pocket goddess of the most magnificent curves to the Circle while you and Alistair practice your meditations. I do not think you wish her to be upset with you.” Zevran sauntered off. The Wardens would be fine but he was not going to allow the pocket goddess to go to the Circle without protection. He doubted there would be any trouble but he wasn’t taking any chances.
 
On their way to the docks they encountered Shale who had left the main room of the tavern at the first opportunity, “The mini it, the elderly mage and the painted elf are leaving?”
 
“Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke,” Zevran quipped.
 
“We’re just going to the Circle for some supplies, Shale,” Wynne said resignedly. The golem was quite perverse in its address.
 
“When I give my battle song, does it bother you? I am not sure if you have ears or if you hear in the same manner as we do,” Jannasilane wanted to know.
 
“The mini it refers to the noise it makes which stuns the darkspawn and other fleshy creatures? The sound is mildly annoying but does not even rise to the level of discomfort so no, it does not bother me. Why does the mini it ask such a ridiculous question?” Shale grumbled.
 
“This is good, I will pester you no longer,” Jannasilane walked away, a bit miffed.
 
In the boat, once again in the capable hands of Kester, Jannasilane and Wynne examined Zevran who pretended to take no notice. Finally Jannasilane asked the question, “Zevran, where is your earring?”
 
Zevran raised an eyebrow, “I am in a boat with two lovely women and all you want is the whereabouts of an earring? I am crushed, truly, but I shall answer. It is too decorative and too large to wear when I am on business. Not only would it be a target for bandits it is too easily grabbed. I do not wish to have it ripped out of my ear.” Jannasilane and Wynne looked at each other and nodded. That made sense and they would definitely keep it in mind.
 
Back at the Inn the two Wardens were finally finishing breakfast. It was so rare for them to be able to sit and eat as much as they wanted that they were not going to waste the opportunity. When even Alistair couldn’t take another mouthful he stood, “Well, since it’s nice outside let’s find a quiet spot by the water. I wouldn’t want to swim in Lake Calenhad but I can certainly enjoy the view.”
 
“Ha,” Blake countered, “You just want to keep an eye out for Package’s return.” Alistair shrugged and smiled agreeably. He couldn’t argue that he wasn’t going to be looking for her. Alistair sat down gracefully and began stretching and settling into position. Blake started to sit facing him, which placed him a bit nearer the water, and shook his head slightly, “It’s always surprising to me how flexible you are when not wearing fifty pounds of armor.”
 
Alistair smiled and shrugged, “Probably one of the reasons I like meditation. I can really stretch myself.” He noticed that Blake was just about in the right state of not quite balanced. “Have you ever considered being part of a harem?” He watched as the dark rogue stopped moving to stare at him in shock before slowly toppling into the water. Alistair started to chuckle, then guffaw. He braced himself before offering a hand to his dripping friend.
 
Once he shook off most of the water Blake began shaking his head, “Well played, Alistair, well played.” He sat down so he could take best advantage of the sun’s rays. “What in Andraste’s name made you think of a harem?”
 
The big blond stopped laughing and sighed, “Jannasilane and I were talking. I don’t know how long it might be before I’m mature enough as a Warden to meet her Need at its strongest. Although regular contact seems to be helping,” Alistair mulled that over. “Anyway, we don’t know what will happen later after the Blight. What if there are times when my duties don’t allow me to take her with me? It will be easier for me, I think for both of us, if somebody we both trust can be . . . well there’s no delicate way to put it really, if somebody can be available for her. Maybe two or three people, who can, erm, fill in from time to time.” Alistair’s face grew pink then red while he spoke. His eyes moved from Blake to the Circle Tower as if seeking the small woman who had control of his heart.
 
Blake watched him closely, “You must love her very much to even consider the prospect. I know this isn’t easy on you, or her. I suspect in her heart she’s more traditional than circumstances will allow. Very well, if later this is what you both want I agree. I can even help you suss out more likely candidates if you want. You could even consider other women,” he snorted at the surprised look on the other man. “If being a Warden is the biggest qualification then a woman is definitely a possibility. You and Package could always try it out at the Pearl sometime; see if you and she like it. There are worse fates.” Surprise gave way to reluctant speculation on Alistair’s face.
 
When Alistair felt his manhood rather eagerly stirring at the idea he decided it was time to think of something else or he might really embarrass himself. He took a deep breath, “We better practice meditating again. We’ve both gotten a bit lax and I don’t want her mad at me. It must be something Riordan told her,” he muttered thoughtfully. “Practice building your wall against the darkspawn, one stone at a time. Each stone you put up blocks their eerie scritchy sounds from invading your head.” They practiced for the rest of the morning. Shale and Sten watched from a distance and discussed the weakness of puny humans.
 
In the boat back to shore it was hard for Jannasilane to sit still. Their trip to the Circle had been more successful than they could have hoped. Not only was she wearing one of two new sets of armor, they had several earrings Wynne and Irving enchanted. Wynne said the spell could easily be tweaked further if it wasn’t quite right. Owain, one of the tranquil mages, suggested infusing a drop of lyrium into the earrings enabling them to hold the enchantment for several days. Morrigan and Wynne would easily be able to renew the charms when it was convenient. Jannasilane was the first to see the two Wardens outside and jumped out of the boat even before Kester brought it to a full stop.
 
Zevran laughed to see her excitement. He enjoyed her new armor and suspected Alistair would be tongue-tied. Again. Certainly that other templar, the one from the cage, Cullen, nearly swallowed his tongue and followed her like a puppy dog when he saw her. The First Enchanter had been dubious about its usefulness because there wasn’t much to it. But it was dragon leather and it was enchanted. The midnight blue she was wearing contrasted nicely with her golden skin and the warm tones of her hair. Without appearing to hurry he was soon by her side and able to witness Alistair’s first look at her new armor.
 
“Alistair, Ali, I have a present for you and Blake,” her eyes sparkled with pleasure. “I found much at the Circle and the First Enchanter said I could keep two sets of dragon leather armor stored in the basement. According to his records they were left to be enchanted but the owner never returned. As this was over thirty years ago he saw no problem with letting me have them today. Isn’t it wonderful? And the Circle doesn’t feel nearly as strange as it did, which is good because I admit I was worried. I think she must have been more slender but fortunately the armor was designed to be somewhat adjustable and only needed minor modifications,” she chattered, unaware of the effect she was having on Alistair.
 
Alistair and Blake had been meditating and stretching for hours. Alistair knew when they arrived and was already smiling in anticipation before she reached them. She began talking and he opened his eyes. All coherent thought fled when he saw her. Saw her breasts. Somehow they seemed fuller and more forward, more there. And when he could move his gaze from them he saw skin showing where the sides were laced together. He gulped, “Y-your breasts . . . skin . . . naked under . . .” His voice trailed off before he could say anything further.
 
Jannasilane rolled her eyes, “Of course they are my breasts, Alistair. One does not change bosoms like Leliana would change shoes if she had the chance.” She looked at him in perplexed frustration, “And I am always naked under my clothes. So are you. What is wrong with you? You don’t like my armor?” Now she was starting to get annoyed.
 
Blake was enjoying the farce. He wondered if Duncan would have appreciated how entertaining the Alistair/Package traveling show was. Probably not, he thought. Since relations were still a bit uncertain between them he came to Alistair’s rescue, “I rather think he likes it more than he’s capable of communicating at the moment, Package. Your new armor does seem to change the shape of your, ahem, breasts in a very attractive manner.” He certainly wasn’t going to say they were brought together and pushed up and forward so they looked ready to overflow, inviting a man’s hands to touch.
 
She frowned at him, wondering if he was teasing her, then looked down at her breasts thoughtfully, “The harness,” she indicated the thick leather which covered her upper back and was connected in front by a buckle between and just underneath her breasts, “does seem to provide more support and keep them from bouncing so much when I am fighting. I did some running, jumping and rolling to test the fit and I found it surprisingly comfortable. More comfortable than either of my robes when I am fighting.” Her face was pink by the time she was done talking.
 
“The pocket goddess is correct in the way the harness corralled her, so to speak,” Zevran smirked at the glare Alistair gave him. “I watched her very closely, for her own protection of course, and can honestly say there was less movement per jump, as it were.”
 
“Yes, well, I was surprised that you were able to find something so attractive as well as useful at the Circle,” Alistair decided it was time to at least try and speak intelligently. It was hard when he found her so enticing. The fringe, if that was the correct term, below the heavy belt accented every slight movement of her hips and the leather tunic . . . He didn’t know why it didn’t fully cover her but he just wanted to lick and nibble all that glorious skin showing between the lacing holding it together on each side. “I really like that color on you, my love, your skin and hair seem to glow against it.” He looked more closely at the shoulders of the harness, “Are the shoulders padded underneath?”
 
Relieved not to be talking about her breasts anymore Jannasilane nodded eagerly. “Since it was a rogue who requested the enchantments I believe they are padded in order to carry a bow and quiver of arrows more comfortably. I shall discuss this with Leliana. Do you not want to know what I have for you?”
 
“In all the excitement over your new armor I forgot,” Alistair admitted sheepishly. “Seeing you happy is enough.” Jannasilane blushed with pleasure. “What did you get for us?” The men watched with interest as she pulled a pouch out of her belt and started pouring earrings into her hand. There was a variety of studs and small hoops. “Earrings? I never would have guessed that,” he said. He’d never admitted to her or anyone that he admired the hoop Duncan wore or that he wanted one for himself but was leery of having just anybody poke a hole in his ear. It might involve needles or other pointy objects near his head.
 
“They are enchanted, Ali, to protect against my battle song. We cannot be surrounded by darkspawn and me unable to use a weapon because that would leave you all vulnerable. This would not be wise,” as she explained Alistair was looking at the earrings on display. “You need one for each ear. Go ahead and pick, Alistair.”
 
“So this is what you lovely ladies were discussing this morning,” Zevran spoke before Alistair could say something stupid. “I remember very well the effect of your, er, battle song you say? on my ears. I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say thank you for thinking of this. It is most kind.”
 
“Zevran is right, Package,” Blake gave the assassin a look of warm approval which caused hope and confusion in the elf. “These earrings, the idea is very thoughtful. But why were you giggling?”
 
Now all three men were staring at her, waiting for an answer. She shifted her feet and her cheeks grew warm, “Um, we were discussing how to make it work and then . . . I suppose we got a little silly.” No matter how they pressed they couldn’t drag any more from her.
 
“If they work as well as you hope then the Circle could make some for the Grey Wardens to protect against shriek attacks,” Alistair mused as he picked up two small hoops of amber, gold and malachite. “These’ll do.”
 
Jannasilane looked at him in surprise, “I would have thought you would pick something more simple.”
 
“These remind me of your eyes,” he mumbled and shrugged. She smiled shyly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before offering the earrings to Blake and Zevran for their perusal. As soon as they made their choices Alistair was on his feet and grabbing her hand, “Come on, let’s get the rest of these delivered and then you can show me how to put them on.” He didn’t give her a chance to agree before they were walking.
 
Blake watched them leave, one eyebrow raised at Alistair’s rather precipitous departure, “Bet you a sovereign he’s about to show her what he thinks of her armor.”
 
“Warden, unless you’re giving a thousand to one odds I’m not about to take that bet. Pocket Goddess does look quite fetching in her new leathers. I believe it is from Nevarra originally, which explains why it is of dragon though how it ended up in the Fereldan Circle is probably a good story we will never hear.” He looked at Blake in amusement, “I did not think it wise to tell Alistair that the other young templar, Cullen, also finds her quite attractive. He came to her as soon as he saw us and began apologizing all over again. Indeed, I think he could give groveling lessons. When the First Enchanter gave her this armor she tried it on immediately and began running and leaping throughout the hall. He froze in place and became absolutely speechless. Surely his blush rivaled any of Alistair’s when she said goodbye and smiled at him.”
 
“I think it’s not just her curves and rather exotic appearance but her obvious warmth. It’s not easy to imagine her as cool and aloof,” Blake watched the Antivan out of the corner of his eye as Zevran nodded in agreement. “Are you becoming smitten, Zev?” He didn’t know why he asked since he was struggling with his own desires for the suave Antivan.
 
“Why does he ask such a question? Does he seek to toy with me? No,” he answered himself. “Whatever his reasons he does not appear happy to have asked the question. Perhaps I should try honesty; it does seem to be the best approach with this one.” He let his eyes travel over the other man, allowing some of his desire to show before turning to the figures now in the distance. “No, Warden, even if I generally prefer a woman’s roundness and soft skin the answer is no. I have had much time to think since before Ostagar. Never before have I bothered to turn my gaze inward, it is not usually desirable for an assassin so to do for he might lose the edge necessary for survival. I wish to be back in her good graces for I have missed her company and I wish no more harm to come to her from any direction but it is no more than that. My interest lies in broader shoulders and a more rugged form than that of the pocket goddess. That said, I am a man who enjoys beauty in many forms and certainly there is much to admire in those luscious curves. Surely she would keep a dead man warm in the coldest of winter nights.”
 
“I can’t argue with that,” Blake answered drily, his shoulders easing ever so slightly with relief. “Let’s get these earrings in, shall we? And then have a drink before we go back to Denerim to confront Weylon. He won’t get away with his lies this time,” he growled, eyes cold and flinty.
 
“No, that he shall not,” Zevran answered softly. His victims would have been familiar with the menace in his tone.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 37: From Man to Dog
 
Zevran would indeed have lost his bet if he had been foolish enough to wager. As soon as they were out of sight Alistair pulled Jannasilane close so he could trace intricate designs between the lacing at the sides of her armor. “Maker’s breath, you are so beautiful,” he breathed. “This fringe is driving me crazy. It taunts me even when you stand still.” He cursed when she laughed, a womanly laugh of triumph. He reluctantly removed his hands from her and then turned away breathing heavily. “If we don’t stop now I’ll take you here and damn anybody who comes along. I will not disrespect you that way,” he stood slowly, “even if it kills me,” he muttered to himself. “He looked her in the eye then, “but later, later we will finish this,” he promised.
 
She smiled slowly, tracing a finger down the front of his shirt before stepping away. “Since you began this little interlude I will hold you to this, Alistair.” In that moment she felt all powerful, the goddess Zevran called her, and then it was gone and she smiled mischievously, “Or I shall have to re-think my options, maybe ask Morrigan for advice.” He swatted her on the rear and growled something unintelligible and they continued on their mission to save the ears of all companions.
 
They found Leliana first and she bounded gracefully towards them, “Wynne said you were successful, ooh, that armor is darling on you. How fortunate the First Enchanter remembered it existed. Let me see the earrings, I hope there are some pretty ones.” Once again Jannasilane poured out earrings and the pretty redhead oohed and aahed over the choices. Standing so close together, the attractive women smiling and laughing reminded Alistair of Blake’s suggestion and he began picturing Leliana joining them in bed. He groaned louder than he realized as he felt himself twitching in response.
 
“Is something wrong, Alistair? I suppose you think this is all boring . . .” Leliana’s voice trailed off when he blushed and shook his head. She caught a glimpse of heat when he looked at Jannasilane and then away. “Oh, well then, I shall continue to look at earrings, shall I? Yes, I shall.” She wondered how her friend didn’t go up in flames from the intensity of his gaze. “Well, well, our innocent young templar is growing up and is quite the man of passion. I wish . . .”
 
Jannasilane was perplexed but since he didn’t appear willing to enlighten her she shrugged and let it pass. “I thought these would be pretty with your hair and eyes,” she held up a pair of rose-gold hoops with blue stones dangling playfully from them. “You have more options as an archer,” she said matter-of-factly.
 
“Thank you so very much,” said Leliana, pleased. “They are still small enough not to get in my way. Let me put them on now and you can tell my how they look.” She quickly replaced her simple studs with the dainty hoops. “Well?” she asked.
 
“They really make your eyes look bigger and bluer,” Jannasilane replied.
 
“I feel fortunate to be in the company of two such exceptionally pretty women,” Alistair said and gave a slight bow. “Ladies, shall we join Sten and deliver to him his earrings? I believe he is somewhere in that direction avoiding everybody but Shale.” With a woman on each arm they moved on their way. The effect was somewhat spoiled by Jannasilane and Leliana giggling but Alistair strove manfully to ignore them. When they saw Sten Jannasilane let go of Alistair and ran to the Qunari. Alistair gulped as he watched her fringe accentuating the swing of her hips. In an effort to save himself he looked at the redhead still with him, “Leliana, do you think you could put my earrings in for me? If I do it I’ll make a mess of it for sure. They’ll end up in the wrong place, Morrigan will laugh at me and General Lee will take away my manly credentials.”
 
“We can’t have any of those things happening, I will be glad to poke –er, put them in for you. I could do it now while Janna is busy with Sten,” Leliana said with a straight face.
 
Alistair eyed her warily, “I think I would prefer a mug of ale when you do them.”
 
Jannasilane returned and Leliana smiled to see how much easier she was with the templar. “I have agreed to help Alistair with his earrings but I think he needs you to hold his hand while I do this.”
 
“Hey, if you’re going to poke holes in my ears I want a distraction,” he responded good-naturedly. Once they were settled in the Wardens’ room Alistair began to get nervous when he saw Leliana cleaning a needle and coating it with a healing poultice. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
 
“Relax, Alistair, I know my way around all sorts of pointy objects. There is a reason I am called Princess Stabbity-Stab after all.”
 
“Why does that not reassure me?” Alistair said and sighed. He pulled Jannasilane to him so she was standing between his knees and rested his head on top of hers. “You’re going to have to hug me tight to make sure I get through this difficult procedure with my dignity intact,” he wrapped his arms around her. Jannasilane giggled and hugged him, leaning her head on his chest.
 
Leliana rolled her eyes in amusement and quickly threaded the needle through his left ear followed by one hoop. Then she did the other. “All done,” she said.
 
“Really? That was quick,” Alistair said, reluctantly releasing his hold on Jannasilane. “I expected it to hurt more.”
 
“Do you wish me to try again, Alistair? I am sure I could do a better job of meeting your expectations,” Leliana grinned impishly. Jannasilane snorted in amusement.
 
Alistair waved his hands in front of him, words coming out in a rush, “No, no. This is fine, thank you.” He stood then and looked around for the mirror. “Do I still look manly?” he quipped.
 
“Very handsome, my Ali,” Jannasilane said and patted his backside.
 
Leliana giggled, “Your appearance, it has a certain rakishness now, a bit of the pirate. I think they go quite well with your coloring. They’re rather subtle, really, more than I first thought.”
 
She started to leave the room but Jannasilane stopped her, “Wait, I could use your help with General Lee.”
 
Leliana shook her head, “I am sorry, you are a dear friend but I do not want to get near those teeth with a needle in my hands. You will have to rely on your Wardens.” She was out the door before Jannasilane could entreat her further.
 
Jannasilane huffed and turned towards Alistair who was already shaking his head, “Nope, ever since I got too near his food one night and he nipped me I’ve been careful. I love you but he’s finally stopped growling at me and leaving things in my bedroll and pack. I don’t have a chance of getting near his ears with something pointy.” He thought a moment, “make sure you have food with you as a peace offering.”
 
She batted her eyelashes and cooed, “Oh is my big, brave warrior afraid of one itsy-bitsy dog?”
 
“If you think,” he leaned in and whispered in her ear, “You are going to get me to do what you want by poking at my ego think again. Morrigan’s made me immune to such tactics,” He bit her ear and then lightly sucked on the lobe, “You taste so good, I could eat you up.” He nibbled and kissed his way down her throat, across her cheeks and finally took control of her lips. “I could stay here forever with you, how would you like to be an innkeeper?”
 
Jannasilane sighed and whispered, “You make me forget myself, Alistair.” It was his turn to grin in triumph, causing her to flush. “I do not think we would be able to stay in the bedroom if we ran an inn,” she said sternly. She squared her shoulders and straightened up, “If you will not help me then I shall deal with General Lee by myself. He is a smart dog, I am sure he will listen to reason.” She ignored his skeptical expression and marched out.
 
Alistair watched the sway of her hips, the fringe dancing around her. “I am a lucky man, I wonder if she can wear that with just the harness and skirt?” He stopped himself from being distracted at the images he conjured for himself and began putting on his armor. “I can at least be ready to throw myself in the breach if General Lee doesn’t cooperate.” He whistled cheerfully and left the room in search of his lady love and the object of her quest. The halls were empty as was the taproom. He stepped outside to the sounds of battle by a rotting skiff near the water. He hurried over to see Jannasilane and General Lee squaring against each other.
 
Jannasilane was wet, disheveled and muddy. General Lee wasn’t much better as he stood growling at her. “You are making me very angry, General Lee. Perhaps you should be renamed Private Lee, the way you are acting,” she scolded the mabari. “I expected much better from you, you know very well that if I use my battle song it hurts you and can do worse. Do you really want Blake to be cut down by a darkspawn because you were too much of a weak kitten to allow me to put small earrings on you? My wardens look very handsome and you will as well,” She stepped toward the snarling mabari.
 
“He’s going to make her pay for that,” Alistair started when Blake spoke behind him. “I should probably help her before things get worse.” He didn’t have the chance. Tired of trying to reason with General Lee Jannasilane let out a fierce battle cry and stunned the mabari. Quicker than Morrigan could make a snide comment she leapt forward and attached the earrings to General Lee’s ears. She was just able to daub them with a healing poultice before he shook himself back to alertness and lunged at her. The two men ran to her assistance.
 
“Get off me, I do not wish to hurt you but I will if you do not move,” she shouted at General Lee. His response was to take her arm in his mouth and give it a shake. She clubbed him alongside his muzzle. He released her arm but knocked them both into Lake Calenhad. She stood and let forth another cry which he ignored as he leapt on her. “Didn’t bother you that time did it?” she yelled. General Lee stopped growling and tilted his head quizzically at her. He sat down, immobilizing her so she was still half in the water. She pushed at him ineffectually, unable to get enough leverage to get him off of her. “I told you they would protect you.” She decided to borrow a page from Leliana, “I must say they suit you. You look a bit like an attractive pirate, a hint of danger. I am sure female mabari will fight for your attention.”
 
“Bark!” General Lee wagged his stumpy tail and moved to shore. He shook himself dry while Jannasilane struggled to get out of the water. Alistair held out a hand to assist her and manfully ignored her glares.
 
Blake didn’t help when he laughed at her bedraggled appearance. “You look like a drowned chicken. Better clean yourself up while you can, Package. We’re leaving soon. I’m sure Alistair will be more than happy to clean your leathers for you. Come on, General Lee. Let’s go find something to eat.” The man and his mabari sauntered off.
 
“He’s right, my love, about getting you cleaned up. I don’t want you getting sick. Who knows what might be in that Lake,” Alistair ignored her grumbles about ‘blasted mabari’ as they walked back to the inn and their room. He was also careful not to look at her until he could control his own amusement at her appearance. Fred’s wife clucked in dismay at the sight of Jannasilane and insisted on bringing her some warmed wine while she cleaned and changed. Finally they left the Spoiled Princess for their confrontation with Weylon in Denerim.
 
For several days General Lee and Jannasilane were at odds. Morrigan was entertained but she was the only one. The others ignored them and by the time they arrived in Denerim relations were more settled. All of them had a chance to appreciate their new earrings when they were attacked before setting up camp one night. Stunned by the battle song the band of thugs was quickly overpowered with little effort.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 38: A Cold Wind Blows . . .
 
They were staring down at the remains of what was presumably the real Weylon. “He’s been dead for some time,” Blake pronounced. “I wonder how many of Arl Eamon’s knights are still alive.” He shook his head at the thought, “I certainly hope only a handful were victims of the false Weylon and his band of zealots. Looks like Morrigan was right about a dragon cult, though it certainly seems odd to combine Andraste and dragons. I’ve never heard of Haven. I’ve seen some maps of the area and it was pretty sparse as far as any towns or villages.”
 
“I don’t like that they went to such efforts to send people into an ambush. If they had simply killed Weylon and stolen the research who would know? Wouldn’t anybody looking for Brother Genitivi just assume he was traveling somewhere, possibly conducting research of some kind? That appears to be what he does,” Alistair asked.
 
“It matters not. These people tried to hurt you and they must die,” Jannasilane said fiercely. The others looked at her in surprise. This was not the friendly young woman they were used to.
 
Blake looked at her and quirked an eyebrow, “Protecting us, Package?” he couldn’t help being amused.
 
Jannasilane snarled, there was no other way to describe it, and turned towards him. “Do not mock me, Warden. You are my friends and my Wardens and you are needed for this Blight.” She poked her finger in his chest, “I may not be huge like you and Ali but this does not mean I will not protect you as is my responsibility.”
 
“Like you protected Riordan?” Morrigan asked. The two Wardens glared at her.
 
Sorrow filled Jannasilane’s expression, “I did not do well by Rio; this is truth. I have learned from that error and pray to the Maker that I will be able to correct it one day.” She turned her attention back to their leader, “You will not rid yourselves of me so easily. This I promise to you.” She lifted her head high and left to rummage through the rest of the small house, looking for more clues. Alistair looked at Blake in silent communication and then followed her.
 
“Do you have to poke at everybody?” Blake asked irritably.
 
Morrigan thought about his question for a moment. “Yes,” she answered, “I rather think I do. I want to know the weaknesses of the people with whom I travel. She is stronger than she was before. To be honest I am rather surprised.” Blake gazed at her, his expression giving away none of his thoughts, but didn’t respond.
 
Alistair watched Jannasilane picking through a variety of books in what could only be described as a small den being used as a pantry. “You didn’t fail Riordan you know,” he said quietly, bracing himself for her anger when she whirled to face him. “He’s older and more experienced and he was right about you not having the skills to go with him where he needed to go. If you had you would both have ended up captured or dead. You know I’m right,” he asserted.
 
“You are trying to make me feel better,” she accused him and then shrugged. “But this does not mean you are wrong. And it does not mean I don’t feel responsible somehow. I think I must take lessons in sneakery from Leliana and Zevran. I will never be as good as they are but I do not want my presence to endanger you or Blake.”
 
“I always feel better when you’re around,” it was Alistair’s turn to shrug. “I also thought you were incredibly sexy when you were scolding Blake. In that robe your breasts really quivered in outrage and your eyes were on fire. It was all I could do not to pull you into my arms and taste that fire for myself.” He reached for her and pulled her close, “We’re alone now, and maybe I’ll do just that.”
 
She barely had time to mutter, “You always think I’m sexy,” before his mouth was plundering hers. She sank into his passion and let it wash away her regrets. Reluctantly she broke away, “In truth I always find you attractive. When you are flustered you are so cute I could eat you all up. When you smile I sometimes forget what I want to say.”
 
Alistair couldn’t help beaming with smug male pride. His eyes bright with desire he leered at her, “Speaking of eating . . . maybe this isn’t the time to bring it up but . . . there’s something I’d like to try some time.” Jannasilane blushed at the way he looked at her and waited for him to continue. “Do you remember a few weeks ago telling Blake how you like to savor candied nuts?” He waited for her to nod and his cheeks pinkened with his next words, “I’d like you to do that with me, that is m-my manhood i-in your m-m-outh. But without the crunching, cracking and crushing please,” he added in a hurry.
 
Jannasilane stared at his chest, her cheeks bright red as she thought about what he was requesting. Suddenly shy she peeked up at him to see he was just as red as she was but with a hopeful look in his eyes. “You are very big, Ali, but I will think on this. I like very much when you . . . I am sorry I did not think to, uhm, reciprocate.” She went back to staring at his chest.
 
“Don’t be sorry my love, I have never ever been unsatisfied with our l-lovemaking. I would never have guessed that I could feel the level of desire and passion I do when I’m with you.” He hugged her and rested his chin on her head, one of his favorite resting positions, “Feel better?”
 
She smacked him on the arm, “All this talk was just to make me feel better? Humph.”
 
He laughed and picked her up, “I always think of you as tiny, well you are compared to me anyway, until I pick you up. You are a good bit heavier than you look.”
 
“Are you saying I’m fat?!” she squawked just as the others joined them.
 
“I’m saying I expected you to be lighter. Blake, what do you think?” and he tossed her into his friend’s arms.
 
Blake laughed and made a great show of lifting her up and down in the air, “You might be right, Alistair. Here Zev,” and he in turn tossed her into the Antivan’s arms.
 
Zevran playfully staggered back, “This is what I expected when I came to Ferelden: that sexy women would fall into my arms out of the air. I would say that Pocket Goddess is even more woman than she appears. It is a crime to even suggest she is heavy.”
 
“That is a much better answer,” Jannasilane smiled at the elf and hopped down. Zevran smirked at the glare Alistair gave him. “But,” she said sternly, hands on her hips and stamping her foot for emphasis, “I am not a bouncy ball to be thrown from one to another.” Morrigan snorted but didn’t say anything. She picked up a pile of books and threw them into a satchel she found. “These are mostly about dragons or Andraste, I do not think they have any more information about Haven or these cultists but at least they are something to read.”
 
“Oh? I thought you were too busy at camp to do something so . . . solitary as read,” Morrigan commented rather snidely.
 
“Sounding jealous, Morrigan. Maybe you want to join them?” Blake intervened before either Package or Alistair could respond.
 
“Jealous? Ugh, I should say not,” the dark haired witch joined the other two in sputtering.
 
“My mistake,” Blake said lightly and then sobered, “Let’s get back to camp. Haven is in the mountains and I doubt we’ll find many places to resupply along the way. I want to double-check our supplies for the cold. We’ll be in there longer than when we were at Soldier’s Peak and I have a feeling the trail will be more intangible. The Peak wasn’t meant to be invisible, after all.”
 
“I take your point. These people seem to be doing their best to insure that Haven remains unknown,” Alistair agreed.
 
That was over three weeks ago. Some of the Brother’s notes were rather cryptic and they were forced to backtrack more than once because of it. Recently they could feel themselves being watched and they were still two days away from Haven. The wind and snow seemed to be actively working against them. Even Jannasilane shivered in the bitter cold in spite of the heavy wool cloak she wore. “We’re fit and strong, how did Brother Genitivi manage to get this far?” Alistair groused.
 
“I am not sure this weather is completely natural,” Morrigan offered her opinion. “It might be a defense created after your Genitivi reached Haven to discourage other followers.”
 
“I’ve read something of this in the Circle. The tome was old and incomplete but from what I pieced together a lot of power and energy is necessary to create it, especially at this distance, but a fairly low amount of both is all that’s needed to maintain it. I don’t know how it’s done but I did get the impression it used or was somehow connected to a life force.” Wynne found it difficult to talk; her words were practically being ripped away from her.
 
Blake rubbed his forehead, “So we’re dealing with a dragon cult and blood magic. Our luck is getting better and better. Let’s just press on and be extra alert for trouble.”
 
Alistair bent his head down to speak to Jannasilane, “How are you doing, Jannamylove?”
 
“I am fine, my Ali,” she smiled up at her warrior. “At least it will be better when we get close to Haven.”
 
“Does the mini it have a reason for such a claim?” Shale, the only party member not bothered by the fierce weather, rumbled.
 
Jannasilane looked up at the big stone creature and shrugged, “The purpose of these weather attacks is to discourage people from reaching Haven, is it not? Once somebody reaches Haven it is no longer necessary. There is no sense in the villagers themselves being obstructed. I could be wrong.”
 
“Logical,” Sten concurred. 
 
“Sexy and smart, I am a lucky, lucky man,” Alistair grinned for the first time since they were bombarded with ice and wind. The group continued on, slowly making progress. They couldn’t even make camp for the night, the strong winds making it impossible to put up their tents. Instead they huddled together for warmth during short breaks. “Well, one good thing about this weather, it’s keeping the darkspawn away.”
 
“Yes, Alistair, thank you for pointing that out. But perhaps we can stand in a circle holding hands and thanking the Maker later,” Blake said sarcastically.
 
Alistair grimaced but didn’t say anything else. They were all tired and short-tempered, even the stoic Sten was showing signs of frustration, something he didn’t think possible. He hoped Jannasilane was right and they would soon be out of this strange weather.
 
She was. When they were finally through the cold barrier they all breathed a sigh of relief. Now they could see a definitive trail with irregular steps worked into the mountainside. “It's late and I don't want to be caught in the dark on that trail. Set up camp but be on the alert. I won’t be surprised if they try to ambush us so three of us remain on guard duty at all times,” Blake declared. He sent General Lee out to sniff out any potential enemies and took Zevran with him to set up some traps.
 
“It'll be nice to sleep in a tent again. After the past few days it feels like a luxury,” Alistair half laughed.
 
“Yes, I agree. I miss snuggling beside you even when you snore,” Jannasilane answered with a straight face.
 
Alistair was indignant, “I do not snore. It's against the Grey Warden handbook; I would be laughed out of the order. This cold has obviously affected your brain so I forgive you unless you decide to repeat such slander.” He pouted as he reflected on her words. He looked at her when he realized he missed the first part of her statement and smiled lazily, “You miss me, do you? Well it's a good thing we're stopping for the night because I've missed you, too.”
 
Nobody lingered over the quick dinner Morrigan prepared. All but Shale looked forward to sleeping in tents and bedrolls. Alistair and Jannasilane found themselves alone by the fire for a few minutes before Leliana and Alistair took first watch with Shale. He sat by her side and watched the fire play on her hair and skin. “Here,” he handed her something, “do you know what this is?”
 
Jannasilane looked at the deep red rose and then at Alistair. She lifted one eyebrow and her eyes twinkled with amusement, “It is your new weapon of choice, my Ali?”
 
“Yes! Beware darkspawn as I overcome you with the power of floral arrangements,” he took a theatrical sniff of the rose. “Or it's just a rose. I saw it in Lothering and marveled at how something so perfect and beautiful could grow and survive amidst so much death and despair. I probably shouldn’t have picked it but I just couldn't leave it for the darkspawn to destroy. It, it reminds me of you and how beautiful you are inside and out. Being with you is as rare and precious as this last rose and I want you to have it. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment but who knows when that will come.”
 
She carefully held the rose in her cupped hands and gently stroked the petals with her thumb. She didn’t know what to say. His words touched her and when she searched his gaze she saw nothing but love and tenderness. Without regret she let the last barrier fall, “I love you, my Ali. You smiled at me on the road to Lothering and I felt as if the sun itself was showering me with its warmth. I regret I did not tell you before now but I was afraid, afraid you would reject me, afraid that my . . . circumstances would prevent us being together. You are a nobleman and I a -.”
 
“Stop right there,” he said harshly. “I am the bastard of a dead king. That does not make me a nobleman. Even if I were, nothing is worth losing you. Nothing! You are everything I want and more than I deserve. Don’t you dare forget it, Jannasilane Alenahaella. Without you I am just a husk of a man. I don’t want to go back to that. I don’t want to be like that templar in the Tower, the one enthralled by the desire demon because his life was so empty anything was preferable.”
 
“You won’t be, my Ali,” she promised. “I am yours, always, this is truth. It is too late for you to change your mind, this is also truth.”
 
“No take backs for you either, my love, we’re meant to be together. Always,” he held her in his arms until Leliana returned. With regret he let go of Jannasilane.
 
“Good night, Leliana,” Jannasilane smiled at her friend and kissed Alistair on the cheek before going to the tent she shared with the Wardens. Alistair watched her until she was inside, not realizing he had a sappy smile on his face.
 
Leliana said nothing. She could tell that things were finally right between the two of them and she was happy to let Alistair savor the moment. Only her humming gave any indication of how pleased she was.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 39: Haven, an Odd and Creepy Place
 
Blake and Zevran had the final watch so Alistair and Jannasilane were alone when they woke. He opened his eyes first and smiled to himself remembering the night before. He looked at the woman in his arms and marveled at his good fortune. At some point while sleeping his hand found its way inside her nightshirt and was cupping her breast. He nuzzled her hair and watched her body react to the slow caresses of his fingers on her skin until she woke, “Good morning, Jannalove.”
 
She smiled sleepily and stretched slowly like a cat, rubbing against him. “Good morning, my Ali, my love.” Jannasilane was mesmerized by the gentle glow in his eyes when she called him her love. She tilted her face up to his and kissed him with great tenderness. “I wish we could stay like this all day, my Ali.”
 
“So do I, my love, so do I. But I have a hunch if we don’t get up soon our good friend Blake will collapse the tent on top of us. Maker’s breath, you are so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. Regretfully he sat up and helped her to her feet. When she had on the soft leather undertunic of her armor he couldn’t help admiring her. “In that tunic with your hair flowing around you look like an ancient goddess, maybe of the Avvars or Alamari.”
 
She pretended to scowl at him, “First you say I’m fat now you say I’m old.”
 
“I said neither and you know it,” he growled and pounced on her. He began tickling her while biting and kissing her neck and shoulders. She giggled and squirmed under his ministrations, begging him to stop. “Old and fat my ass,” he muttered in her ear before he reached for the rest of her armor and handed it to her.
 
“It is such a pretty ass, too, so round and tight. I am quite fond of your ass, my Ali,” she responded playfully. Minutes later they left the tent together, holding hands.
 
He was pleased to notice that the others were just starting to gather. Alistair flushed a little when he saw some of the marks he had left on her skin. He brought her fingers to his lips, “Coffee, my lady?”
 
“I would like that, my Ali,” Jannasilane spoke softly and smiled up at him. Blake smirked knowingly at them but didn’t say anything.
 
Zevran had no such compunctions. Ostensibly speaking to Leliana he teased, “My lovely Leliana, have you composed a suitable song for the lovebirds among us? One with a lot of ‘billing and cooing’ as it were.”
 
“Right, I’ll do the billing and you can do the cooing,” Alistair told Jannasilane and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
 
“Coo . . . coo.”
 
“Ugh, stop before I lose my breakfast,” Morrigan demanded.
 
“Bo-nus,” Alistair sing-songed.
 
“This behavior is not helpful. What do you propose, Warden?” Sten turned to Blake.
 
Blake shrugged, “We go up the mountain and find some answers. It’s possible only a group of zealots is responsible for the attacks and deception in Denerim. Be respectful but prepared. We’ll play it by ear.”
 
Sten frowned, “That is no plan. What does it mean, ‘play it by ear?’ We have no instruments other than Leliana’s lute and that is played with hands.”
 
“You Qunari are so literal,” Blake muttered. “I mean we go up there and act based on what we find and our reception by the locals. I don’t want to fight if it’s not necessary but I want us all to be alert for any sign of danger.”
 
“I approve of remaining alert,” Sten was not impressed though recently he’d begun to think the Warden showed promise.
 
Bodahn and Sandal remained behind. Guiding their cart up the mountain trail would be tricky enough under the best conditions and would only be in the way in an attack. Bodahn agreed to join them in the village when it was safe. “Who knows? These people could perhaps use some of the goods I carry and I might find something I can sell when we return.”
 
The closer they got to Haven the more uneasy Jannasilane, Wynne and Morrigan became. The surly guard at the top of the path who tried to discourage them from entering compounded this feeling. “They’re hiding something,” Morrigan noted.
 
“Small towns often have nasty little secrets, sometimes with whips and chains. Perhaps I can join in?” Zevran quipped.
 
Blake tried not to smile though it was difficult when he saw the blank looks on the faces of Package and Alistair. Finally they were at the Chantry. Father Eirik stopped preaching when strangers entered his sanctum and dismissed the parishioners. “You didn’t have to stop, we would have just waited until you were done,” Blake said quietly and approached the man.
 
In answer the Revered Father went into a long speech about the danger of strangers and duty to protect one’s home before commanding his guards to attack. These guards weren’t as skilled as those who tried to ambush them outside the Spoiled Princess and even Father Eirik’s magic wasn’t enough to make them remotely equal to the experienced Wardens. Blake looked down at the dead men on the floor and scowled, “I guess they won’t be telling us anything. Look around for any clues to Brother Genitivi’s whereabouts.”
 
In one room off to the side Jannasilane and Alistair found some chests with expensive looking items, “Looks like they aren’t immune to commerce. Or perhaps they send groups out to rob merchants and caravans,” he suggested.
 
Across the building Zevran, Blake and Leliana were examining a wall. “This does not make sense,” the redhead shook her head thoughtfully, “a wall here does not fit the architecture of the rest and surely from outside I would have guessed there to be a room. Every Chantry I have been in, regardless of size, has had the same general layout. There is the main room where the people come with either a small room or alcove on either side of the altar or podium. Usually they do not even have doors.”
 
“Aha, more secrets, perhaps a secret room?” Zevran’s eyes lit up as he began examining and testing the wall for seams or a control switch.
 
Blake watched those nimble fingers and the elf’s look of concentration and imagined that attention focused on him. He felt himself becoming aroused and suddenly felt sad and alone. Package and Alistair had finally come to terms and were happy. Last night he saw her looking at the rose the templar gave her and sometimes thought Elissa would have looked just that way when she fell in love. He admitted to himself that he envied his two friends. Did he want that for himself? He didn’t know, but he wanted more than what he had which was nothing. He missed Dairren. They understood and accepted each other without judgment and without any illusions of a great love affair, just a deep and long-standing friendship which happened to express itself physically at times. “I wonder if Mother or Father knew. Before that last night, did either of them know? They certainly never said anything.” He snorted, “Of course they knew. Nothing happened at Highever that Mother didn’t find out about and if she knew she told Father. The only thing they didn’t know was Howe’s true nature, the bastard.”
 
“Yes, here it is,” Zevran finally found the mechanism to open the secret door. “These cultists knew how to keep their secrets; this switch was very well hidden. Shall I open the door, my dear Warden or do you wish to have the honors?” Hearing no answer he turned and saw the Warden was deep in thought, so deep that he didn’t hear the elf talking to him. He frowned slightly, “Our leader does not look happy, what is he thinking about to put such a cloud of sadness in those dark intriguing eyes?” He touched Blake’s arm and felt him barely control a start of surprise, “Warden, I found the mechanism.” He spoke quietly, hoping the others did not notice their leader’s preoccupation.
 
Blake took a breath and focused, “Well, let’s see what the esteemed Father was hiding.” He motioned for Zevran to open the door. He swore under his breath when he saw what was behind the door. “Wynne,” he yelled, “we need you in here.” He started to examine the man on the floor; he was an older man with ink-stained fingers, definitely not a knight. “Brother Genitivi, I presume,” and hastened to reassure the man when he reacted with fear and distress. “We’re here to help. I am the Grey Warden Blake Cousland, this is Zevran Arainai and the lovely woman coming to your aid is Senior Enchanter Wynne, a very skilled healer. Wynne, he’s pretty badly hurt, can you help him?”
 
“Yes, of course,” she began healing. “You should stay off that foot for a few days and I think you’ll be fine but it is pretty damaged and there is still a danger of you losing it.”
 
“Thank you, that’s much better. I was afraid it might have to come off,” Genitivi sighed with relief. “At least it won’t be right now and even if it were it would be a small loss in comparison to my findings. All my research indicates the Ashes are not far away in a temple deeper in the mountains; maybe a day’s journey or two. The people here did not like me asking questions; I thought you might be coming to finish me off, truth be told. I don’t understand why they kept me so long. Don’t misunderstand, I’m very thankful, just confused.”
 
Blake sighed and motioned the others away, “I think I can clear up some of your confusion. Brother Genitivi, do you have an assistant? . . .”
 
“I want to know more about this place before we go any further,” Alistair took charge. “It’s more than a bit creepy; most shops do not have dead bodies in the back and children playing with finger bones that are just lying around somewhere is s-o-o-o not normal. More guards might be coming to the Chantry so I’ll stay here. Wynne will stay as well in case Brother Genitivi needs her. The rest of you split up and see what you can find then come back here in an hour. Nobody searches alone and if you find something worth pursuing gather the others and return immediately. No heroics.”
 
“So commanding and sexy,” Morrigan sidled provocatively past him, “but do not think I do this because you tell me. I do this only because for once I agree.” She condescendingly patted the side of his face and moved down the path.
 
“Eeuw,” Alistair muttered under his breath. Sten went with her as much to keep an eye on her as to protect her. After some discussion between them Leliana went off with Shale and General Lee while Jannasilane was paired with Zevran. Alistair followed them outside where he would stand guard.
 
Before they left Jannasilane turned towards her big warrior, “Morrigan was right about one thing, my Ali, you were quite commanding and so very sexy I wanted to just leap on you.”
 
“I too found you to be quite compelling and attractive,” Zevran purred. He was quite pleased to see that their comments had the templar blushing.
 
Alistair shook his head, “You are both wicked, wicked people. I will deal with you,” he looked directly into Jannasilane’s eyes with heat and promise, “later. Now get out of here. And be careful, my love.”
 
Soon Jannasilane and Zevran caught up to the others on the path to the village where they were engaged in fighting some of the villagers even though they were mostly unarmed. It was hardly a matter of minutes before they were defeated and the different groups could begin their search for information. Zevran and Jannasilane were quiet as they searched the first house. They found nothing and moved on to the next.
 
She shuddered the minute they walked in. “I do not like this place, Zevran. It feels of magic, the type to make my skin crawl. There is a hint of it all over Haven but here it is strong.”
 
“I have learned to trust your instincts, Pocket Goddess. We shall examine this dark place very carefully and unearth its secrets.” They found a torch and lit it and soon saw what made Jannasilane so uneasy. “Some Crows have performed rituals like this, it makes them uncommonly strong,” he said soberly while staring at the blood-covered altar at one end of the building. “All this blood is definitely not from anything as small as a chicken. I fear Haven had a special purpose for any of your Arl Eamon’s knights who journeyed this far.” He noticed her shivering, “come, my dear, let us see what other secrets might be hidden elsewhere. I do not relish being near this cursed thing.”
 
Jannasilane let him lead her away from the altar. She watched him as he picked the locks on a couple of chests and joined him when he began to search the contents. “Zevran, why have you been so nice to me since I came back? And even before, now that I think about it,” Jannasilane finally got up the nerve to ask the question which had been on her mind for several weeks.
 
He looked at her closely before answering. He could see lingering shadows of the hurt he caused her and knew he had to answer truthfully, “I hurt you. I deliberately and cruelly seduced you so I could crush you, an act of which I am deeply ashamed and regretful. If it takes the rest of my life I will make it up to you, somehow, someway. I have had to do many things as an assassin, some of which I am not proud of but they were necessary. Until you never had I gone out of my way to harm an innocent. That I found myself capable of such ugliness was . . . enlightening and repugnant.”
 
“Why, exactly did you . . . not the s-seduction, you are quite attractive and I could have said no, but afterwards?”
 
“Ah, my innocent Minit, I am highly skilled and seduction is a very useful tool in my line of work. All those innocent touches were cleverly disguised caresses, designed to bring about your desire to its peak, making it nearly impossible to refuse me. I did not take advantage of what happened I orchestrated it. Since you wish to know I will answer you with nothing but the complete truth. I owe you this, at the very least. The simple answer is I was jealous. I usually prefer women, and you are a most desirable woman with your luscious curves and sleek muscles, but I find myself attracted to our leader. More than to any in a long time. I did not know I was jealous, just that you were an impediment to something I wanted. Or so I thought.”
 
He stopped speaking as he pondered how to continue, “During our assassin training we are taught not to have feelings, that they are an impediment to our survival. I have had many lovers, some for business and many more for pleasure. I look for ways to enjoy the moment because I might not have another. That philosophy has been enough until now. I thought you were gorgeous and wildly sexy from the moment we met; after your rift with Alistair I probably would have tried to seduce you anyway since the Warden has not seemed inclined to follow up on any of my offers. I like sex,” he shrugged. “But I would not have tried so hard and put you in the position of having no choice, nor would I have felt any urge to hurt you afterwards. Only when it was too late did I come to understand jealousy was eating at me until I could only think that if the Warden realized you had been with me while you were with him he would end things with you and finally turn to me. A very poor and convoluted plan, I admit. I have looked at myself very closely since then and I did not like what I saw.”
 
“Worse, I missed you. I missed your eagerness to see new things and your questions about Antiva, your open friendliness. I did not even realize that I was fond of you beyond mere attraction. I destroyed as well any chances to be with a man I admire and desire. Even if he did not make it clear to me my own guilt won’t let me -”
 
Jannasilane grabbed his arm, “Blake knows? And, oh,” she turned bright red.
 
Zevran was alarmed, “Did I do something wrong? They were very worried about you, Alistair was devastated. I confessed my transgressions and told them what I observed in Redcliffe.” He looked at her anxiously.
 
“No, no, I was just surprised,” she hastened to reassure him. “Alistair knew anyway. I was not kind.”
 
“You were hurt, by him and then by me. He blames himself for all of it, I think. I never knew such a person for taking blame onto himself that is not his own. It must be a templar thing.”
 
“Do you love him? Blake, not Alistair I mean,” she added before he could make a smart comment.
 
Zevran humphed, “Love? What do I know of love? I was raised in a ****house by those serving individuals seeking the illusion. I understand desire and to some degree I understand friendship. Is that what you and your templar feel? I noticed you are even more relaxed and comfortable around each other. Did it take so long to forgive him?”
 
She looked away trying to hide her blush, “It’s complicated. Part of me has been waiting for him to turn away again. Then there is his heritage as a son of Maric. No matter what I feel I could never be a nobleman’s wife, much less a king’s. That’s not going to change.”
 
“So you were afraid to admit your feelings because of what might happen? Alistair has no desire to be anything other than a Grey Warden and he would give that up if it meant being with you. I have lived a selfish life, true, but I also appreciate the joys of today because they may not be there tomorrow. You nearly deprived yourself and him because of what might happen? You both deserve better than that,” he scolded her.
 
Jannasilane stared at him, searching carefully for the truth of his words. This was not the same Zevran who ambushed them. “You’ve changed,” she stated.
 
“I believe you told me that as I was old enough to be your father I should ‘grow up.’ I am trying to take your advice,” he answered lightly. “Although I do not think that I am quite that old.”
 
She lifted her hands, “You tell me; I am seventeen, sixteen when you tried to kill us. Or perhaps you don’t wish to admit your great age,” she teased.
 
“Ho, the insults. I should tell Alistair a wicked woman like you needs a good spanking from time to time. You might even enjoy it,” he bantered. Inwardly he was relieved that she truly seemed to have forgiven him, or was well on the way to doing so. He felt lighter than he had in a long time. “For your information I am a mere thirty-two, although I suppose that still puts me in the possible father range. Come, we are nearly done. Let us quickly finish and return to camp, I am ready to warm these ancient bones of mine by the fire.”
 
“Yes, Papa Zev,” she snickered and dodged out of reach of his fake cane.
 
When they rejoined the others Morrigan insisted on seeing the altar for herself, “That was human blood and more than any person can lose and still live. These villagers have been practicing some nasty habits. The Warden should know. I doubt Father Eirik was the only one involved.”
 
“Let us hurry back to my Ali. He will worry if we do not soon return,” she grabbed Zevran by the hand and began running.
 
“Is the mini it prone to these odd outbursts of behavior?” Shale questioned the others.
 
Morrigan snorted, “Judging by her relationship with that fool templar I would hardly call her bedding the elf odd, though the timing certainly might qualify.”
 
“Morrigan, you do not know that,” Leliana remonstrated. “Jannasilane loves Alistair and would not treat him that way. I suspect it is something completely different and possibly related to the altar they found. Speaking of which I believe we should also be returning to the Chantry.” She was not going to admit she was dying of curiosity and planned on gently interrogating her friend later.
 
“I hope you are not suggesting we also hold hands and run together,” Morrigan replied.
 
“She’s not,” Sten spoke for the first time. He turned away from them and began walking up the hill. A muttered, ‘
Vashedan’ drifted back to the remaining companions as they followed him.
 
“I was talking to Brother Genitivi about some of Haven’s oddities,” Blake was telling Alistair when he saw Zevran running up the path hand-in-hand with Jannasilane. “This is interesting,” he felt hope grow in his chest at the possibilities opened by that occurrence. He couldn’t prevent the heat glowing in his eyes when he looked at the Antivan after Package threw herself at Alistair.
 
Zevran let his own desire show as he answered their unvoiced questions, “Pocket Goddess Minit was quite disturbed by an altar we found. It was covered in blood; most probably the blood of Arl Eamon’s missing knights. Morrigan confirmed that it was indeed human blood.”
 
“This is truth,” Jannasilane mumbled. She straightened up, “I feel better now but this Haven is not a good place. I will be quite happy to leave.”
 
Blake snorted in amusement, “So will Brother Genitivi. He says the Ashes are not far but the trail is likely to be a bit harder to follow than the path to Haven. Wynne fixed up his foot for now and he’s anxious to get started. He’s a tough old bird.” He saw the rest on the path and waited for them to gather before speaking further.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 40: Ancient Temple Current Dangers
 
Bodahn and Sandal were happily ensconced near the merchant shop and doing brisk business. Sten, Shale and Morrigan were making sure nobody followed the Wardens to the temple. Blake said he knew he could count on them to scare people off. Morrigan glared sullenly at him but Alistair thought he saw a slight smile on Sten’s face. Once Shale stomped a chicken to feathers the villagers were happy to give the golem an extra wide berth. The trail to the temple was proving as indiscernible as Brother Genitivi warned. Their pace was slow only in part to the Brother’s injuries. Here no steps were cut into the slope to make navigation easier and it appeared to be quite overgrown. This was camouflage as Zevran discovered. The cultists had cleverly tied ropes to some of the low hanging branches; they could pull on the ropes to raise the branches and clear the path then lower them behind them.
 
Jannasilane was walking beside Blake, “It is good you and my Ali have been doing your meditation exercises.”
 
“Package, I’m curious about something,” Blake held the branch back for the rest of the party, “Is this something you discussed with Riordan?” He almost regretted asking when he saw the look of sadness which briefly showed on her expressive face.
 
 “We talked much about Duncan and the Grey Wardens including nightmares. He said that in Jader they don’t allow new recruits to go into the Deep Roads for weeks or even months after their Joining, barring an emergency. The Warden-Commander of Jader, Nalia, put into place a special training program for new recruits. My Rio says he wishes he had such training when he was a new Warden; the most important part is the meditation exercises they undergo to build up their mental walls. He says too often new Wardens get overly jittery or even panic when they go underground. Commander Nalia feels this training helps the new recruits perform better with fewer injuries when they first go into battle. ”
 
She frowned and worried her lip as she sought to remember exactly what Riordan said, “The Deep Roads can be . . . unsettling. The taint, at least for some, can resonate within them strongly enough to drive them mad if they stay long enough. She, Nalia, won’t allow any Warden to go into the Deep Roads before they can begin to sense the darkspawn and have a chance to build a buffer against them. Even then she makes sure each new recruit is paired with a seasoned Warden their first time. I worry that you and my Ali might suffer when we go to Orzammar.”
 
“You’re a good girl, Package,” Blake squeezed her against him for a moment. “But the dwarves live in Orzammar, not the Deep Roads.”
 
“I’d like to hear more about this training program,” Alistair joined them. “We’ll have to rebuild the Wardens here in Ferelden at some point; do you think Riordan might be interested in transferring here and help us set up our own training program?” She would never know how hard it was for him to suggest her former lover join them for the long term. Over her head Blake looked at Alistair with an eyebrow lifted in query. Alistair nodded very slightly, his expression resolute. For some time they discussed rebuilding the order.
 
Joy and reverence shone on Brother Genitivi’s face when they finally reached the steps up to the temple. “This is it, after all my years of study.” Slowly and carefully he made his way up the steps without assistance. The others stood back and let him have his moment. He turned to face the Warden, “You have the medallion, Father Eirik’s medallion?” His hands trembled a little when Blake handed it to him, “If I turn this, then this . . . here we go. It should fit in the door now.”
 
“I’ve never seen or heard of a key like that,” Blake observed.
 
“It’s old, very old. I don’t know how common they used to be generations ago but they are quite rare now.” He unlocked the large doors, opened them wide and took one step inside before stopping dead. “This, this is, even damaged with snow and ice coming through this is more magnificent than I ever imagined,” he said in an awed whisper.
 
The others crowded in behind him and voiced their own amazement at what they saw. “I can't believe all this is still standing! This temple must be thousands of years old.” “Makers breath! Look at it all!” “I’ve read about some of the magnificent Tevinter architecture of old but seeing it . . .” “By the shifting skies of the Fade… this is… magnificent.” “Are those carvings on the wall?” “Ahhhh, an untouched treasure! What wonders await us here?” At the last comment Leliana, Brother Genitive and Wynne turned to glare at the assassin in disbelief.
 
“My friend Zevran is quite correct,” at that Alistair and Blake looked at each other in surprise, “would it not be wonderful if we could find many things long forgotten? You could be busy for years, Brother Genitivi.”
 
“That will have to wait, Package,” Blake said drily. “Right now we have work to do.”
 
“You go ahead; I couldn’t keep up with you. Perhaps I was only meant to get this far and no further. There is enough to keep me busy here and I doubt I’ll be bothered.” Brother Genitivi was disappointed but he took solace in the fact that he was here and his years of research weren’t’ for naught. Nor did he lie; there was much to study in the Great Hall alone.
 
“We’ll check it out, and not just for you. I don’t want to risk leaving anything at our backs. Alistair, you and Zevran explore the passages on the left side. Package and I will take the ones on the right. Leliana, I want you, Wynne and General Lee to explore the main room, make sure nothing nasty is hidden in these snow drifts. We’ll meet at the bottom of those stairs,” he pointed to the double staircase leading further up into the temple. Once they were alone he spoke up, “You’ve forgiven him, then.”
 
“Alistair? Yes, but you know this already,” she answered with mock innocence.
 
Blake gave her a couple of quick swats on her rear, “I meant Zevran and you know it, wicked minx.”
 
She pouted and rubbed her posterior, “I shouldn’t tell you.” She danced away when he threatened her rear again, “but I shall. Yes. We have talked about what happened; he is not the same elf who tried to assassinate us. I believe him when he says he regrets what he did. Well, I’m not sure he completely regrets the seduction part but the rest of it.”
 
“If he regretted having sex with you then he’d have to be an idiot. He’s not an idiot,” Blake smiled, relieved at the turn of events.
 
“I am sorry, my Blake, that you have been unhappy. I did not mean for you to be so,” she hugged him.
 
“Not your fault, Package,” he kissed the tip of her nose and then gave her rear another swat for fun. “Back to business.”
 
“You and Zevran should get along just fine,” she muttered when she went back to searching the area for hidden dangers. They found some scrolls and Jannasilane picked up a few books for Brother Genitivi to study while they were busy. She couldn’t help snickering when he couldn’t unlock a large door no matter how hard he tried. “Perhaps Zevran or Leliana will have better luck, or we will even find the key.”
 
“Perhaps,” Blake scowled; miffed he couldn’t pick the lock. “Since we’re done here, for now,” he stared balefully at the large door, “we should see if the others found anything interesting or alarming.” As they got closer to the main hall they heard sounds of battle and hurried forward. When the skirmish was over Blake looked around and scowled thoughtfully, “I think we’re going to find more than traps as we move forward. Brother Genitivi can’t keep up, I don’t want to leave him defenseless and I don’t want any more delays.”
 
“Wynne,” Alistair interrupted Blake’s musings, “that barrier you made at the Circle, could you make one here to keep people and demons out?”
 
Wynne blinked in surprise, “Alistair, the hall is far too big. What exactly do you have in mine? I trust you noticed how high the ceiling is.”
 
“We found a small study off a small hallway near the front of the temple. It doesn’t connect to anything and the opening to the hallway is smaller than what you blocked at the Tower.”
 
Blake picked up on his idea, “At the first sign of trouble you can send General Lee for reinforcements and then barricade yourself and the good Brother. You wouldn’t even have to keep it up as long as you did before.”
 
Wynne wished she could be part of the group to seek the Urn but realized that the Wardens offered the best solution, “Very well. I can do that quite easily. And it’s a way to keep him off that foot. I suggest we clear the hallways at the top of the steps before you young people explore deeper.”
 
“Thank you, Wynne. General Lee, you understand you’re not just on guard but you might need to guide the others here?”
 
“Bark!” General Lee wagged his little tail.
 
With a wave of his hand Blake signaled the group to spread out. After the dust settled Jannasilane was frowning and shaking her head; she was obviously perplexed about something. “There is something I do not understand. I thought I sensed blood magic but none of these mages are of that . . . hmm, that persuasion. However, some of these fighters feel like that. It is like the sensation at that bloody altar. I feel we will meet this as we go further in. Whatever it is. And there is a smell of something . . .”
 
“Perhaps you smell dragons. It is a dragon cult, after all,” Zevran suggested lightly though in truth he did not relish the prospect of finding or fighting such creatures. “And I did not say that my former brothers who performed such rites were mages. They were a secretive bunch even among the Crows and if I were not so curious as to spy on them one evening I would not even know of such things. I believe they referred to themselves as reavers. Well, reavers is the short version. They used some long and pompous sounding name which I did not bother to remember. Why do so many secret societies call themselves by grandiose names of which others are not to even be aware? I suppose it has to do with vanity.”
 
“Join the Wardens and see all sorts of cool dangers,” Alistair quipped as he rubbed his hand soothingly up and down Jannasilane’s back.
 
“We still need to find the key for the door Blake can’t open,” Jannasilane teased.
 
“A door our leader cannot open? This I must see for myself,” Leliana laughed.
 
Blake glared at Package, “Alistair, keep your woman in line.” Then he smiled slyly, “you may have to give her a good spanking.”
 
Alistair blinked, “Why would I do that?” He blushed when he saw identical wolfish grins on the other two men and even Leliana was biting her lip. “Oh,” he muttered softly. Jannasilane looked from him to the others; she was unsure how to react and decided it was safer just to ignore them. She didn’t feel any better when Blake and Zevran insisted only Alistair accompany them to the locked door. She watched them go down the steps and it was obvious that the two rogues were having an animated discussion with the warrior between them. Once Alistair looked back, his face a bright red study of exasperation and embarrassment.
 
That was the last light moment for any of them for some time. Around every corner were traps, ash wraiths or cultists. Sometimes they found forgotten statues or other relics. “Perhaps all these ash wraiths mean we are close,” Leliana suggested after another fight with the dangerous creatures. “According to legend some of Andraste’s most devoted disciples gave themselves to the flame that they might guard her resting place for eternity.”
 
“Huh, that’s . . . a really, really long time,” Alistair responded as they moved forward cautiously. “Even beautiful in a morbid kind of way.”
 
“Warden,” Blake never knew when Package would decide to use his title, “have we encountered more darkspawn or demons and blood mages?”
 
“Darkspawn, definitely darkspawn,” he thought of Ostagar. “Of course since Lothering we have come across a large number of demons and the like. Morrigan was being snide but that doesn’t mean she was wrong when she said it seemed as if people were using the Blight to address their grievances. Uldred’s revolt and the troubles at Redcliffe certainly support that argument. I can’t include Haven since this seems to be the norm. How odd to think that there’s a part of Ferelden the Chantry has never been, at least not the Chantry we know. Even the Korcari Wilds has been visited by the Chantry.”
 
“I am sure the Grand Cleric will seek to remedy this once Brother Genitivi returns to Denerim,” Leliana spoke softly.
 
Zevran had been scouting a short distance ahead, “There is a hole in the wall opening to some caverns. The passage I can see is quite narrow, a lovely spot for an afternoon ambush. Be careful, my dear Warden.”
 
“This place makes me itch,” Jannasilane muttered, “and the smell is stronger.” Whatever she sensed in the air caused something to stir deep inside her, something she didn’t understand. Every nerve ending was alert. Zevran didn’t even have a chance to make a smart comment about scratching her itch before they found the traps. And were attacked by dragonlings. While the others were staring at the young dragons lying at their feet she was looking ahead, shifting from one foot to the other.
 
“What is it, my itchstress?” Zevran asked.
 
Leliana coughed, “Zevran, you are the only person I know who could say something so odd and still sound seductive. However, I too would like to know what has our young friend so nervous.”
 
Jannasilane shrugged irritably, “I don’t know. I know only I do not like this feeling but I suppose it does not really matter; I fear we shall certainly find out soon enough what causes this, this thing I feel.” By the time they battled the drakes they encountered she was looking forward to their skirmishes with the creatures which only added to her disquiet. They had faced darkspawn, various mages, bandits, demons and abominations and never had she looked forward to fighting them, just accepted it as necessary. This desire to shed the blood of another creature was unwelcome to say the least. She pushed those thoughts aside and resolved to think about it later. It was a relief to finally meet Kolgrim, the leader of these Disciples of Andraste, face to face. She scanned the large cavern as she listened to his ridiculous claim that Andraste was a dragon. She snorted in derision.
 
“Your little follower should show due respect,” Kolgrim’s malevolent gaze bore into her.
 
“Package, they have the right to their opinion,” Blake warned. He remained calm as he continued questioning Father Kolgrim. Finally Kolgrim suggested Blake could make amends by pouring dragon blood on the Ashes. That was enough for him. “That sounds like a bad idea. We’re not defiling the Ashes for you.”
 
“Then prepare to face the wrath of the risen Andraste. To arms!” Kolgrim shouted. Thus ensued their toughest battle to date. Kolgrim and his fellow reavers and mages were indeed strong.
 
“I sense no more of his kind,” Jannasilane looked around the room at all the dead bodies.
 
Leliana shivered, “I am glad. Their abilities were unholy; perhaps in death they will find peace and true understanding of the Maker and Andraste.”
 
Blake lifted an eyebrow skeptically, “Perhaps. Let’s find the Ashes and get out of this place.”

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 41: The Gauntlet
 
They had to blink when they emerged into the bright light of day. Jannasilane looked up to see a high dragon circling the sky far above them. “There is the Kolgrim’s Andraste,” she stated. Once again she felt something stirring inside.
 
“Well, let’s hope it stays there for I do not think it wise to engage such a creature,” Zevran half-whispered. He kept glancing at the sky warily as they made their way across the snow-covered path to a much smaller temple built into the side of a near mountain.
 
“I have never seen a high dragon before,” Leliana said softly. “I bet it is as magnificent as it is dangerous.”
 
The two women were the last to enter. Jannasilane was quiet; she didn’t join in the chatter about the building or what they might find. She felt a nebulous foreboding and already couldn’t wait to be done with their business so they could leave; at the same time she dragged her steps in order to keep some distance between her and the others. She caught up with them as they were being questioned by The Guardian, some sort of spirit protecting the Urn of Sacred Ashes. “. . . you left your parents behind, knowing what sort of treatment they would receive from Arl Rendon Howe.”
 
“Do you think I have not replayed that moment often? Sometimes I think I could have persuaded Mother to come before Howe’s men found the pantry but I don’t know if I could have. I only know that if I didn’t escape I would have failed in my responsibilities to my family and country. Couslands have always done their duty; this was one of the last things my father said to me. I could not dishonor him.” Blake said no more, only his flared nostrils signaled his disquiet.
 
“Ah, so you try to learn from past mistakes,” the Guardian nodded his head. He turned to Alistair, “What about you, Alistair of the Grey Wardens? Duncan died on the battlefield at Ostagar without you at his side to stop the killing blow. You wonder, don’t you, if you should have died and not him?” Jannasilane glared at the spirit but didn’t say anything.
 
“I . . . yes, I have wondered. Everything would be better if he’d been saved and if I’d had the chance I would have done everything I could to save him. But,” he turned his gaze to the small woman at his side, “I no longer wish it had been me instead of him. Because then I would have died without knowing the full richness and joy life has to offer. Nobody should die without a chance to experience that.” He reached for Jannasilane’s hand and smiled down at her.
 
The Guardian questioned Leliana about her vision and Zevran about a woman’s death before turning his attention to Jannasilane. He stared thoughtfully at her, “And now I turn to you, the youngest of the companions. Little one, you are so young and yet carry the burden of a legacy centuries old; a burden impossible to put down. You have a temper,” at this reminder Alistair unconsciously rubbed his nose, “do you regret the damage caused by this fiery disposition of yours? Do you consider that your burden would be easier if you had better control over your emotions?”
 
“Even the spirits remind me how short I am. I’m not some pint-sized pixie,” she muttered mutinously. “Yes, I have my regrets and some of them are because I lost my temper. That’s all I’m going to say about it,” she scowled at the Guardian. “What about you, spirit, do you ever regret the hurt caused by your questions? Reminding people about the pain they have endured, especially when they had no control over the cause?”
 
The Guardian raised an eyebrow but otherwise ignored her. “You may venture into the Gauntlet, pilgrims.”
 
“If, when we go to Orzammar, I’m shorter than some of the dwarves there I am going to be thoroughly miffed.”
 
“A miffed muffin, MiffMuffin, I shall be sure to call you that when you are angry,” Zevran teased.
 
“I like your ‘fiery disposition,’ mostly, “Alistair claimed and once again rubbed his nose, “But I think I’ll have to remember that, MiffMuffin I mean. Ha, try saying that three times fast.”
 
Leliana shook her head in mock reproof, “You are all incorrigible the way you tease her. But now I believe we have reached the first, or perhaps it is the second test.” Several spirits or ghosts lined the walls of a large room. Blake addressed the first one and they realized these were all questions or riddles about Andraste.
 
Leliana and Alistair were the most informed by virtue of their years with the Chantry. Zevran and Jannasilane moved ahead and watched and waited. Neither had any doubts that their friends would be unable to solve the puzzles. The Antivan watched the young woman next to him as she shifted nervously. “Does something bother the Pocket Goddess? I trust you are not still upset by the words of the spirit at the door.”
 
Jannasilane shook her head, “It’s not that. I don’t like this place; it feels like the Fade to me.”
 
“The presence of so many spirits, perhaps,” Zevran answered. He didn’t think that was the case when he studied her more closely. If he wasn’t mistaken there was a look in her eyes reminiscent of their encounter with the desire demon. “I don’t like this at all. I hope we find these Ashes soon.”
 
Finally the last riddle was answered correctly and all the spirits were gone, at least from this room. A door opened and a figure waited. It was Bryce Cousland. Jannasilane felt a strange mixture of pity and envy, “It must be hard for my poor Blake, seeing his not-father, or his father-spirit, like this. Although maybe it’s nice to see him healthy instead of as Blake last saw him. I wish I could see my parents again even if only as a vision.”
 
It grew harder for her to maintain control the deeper into the Gauntlet they went. “I do not understand what is happening to me. It feels like the Beast but different. I do not wish to lose myself. Is this part of the test? The others do not appear to be struggling. Maker help me, please,” she prayed. It was actually a relief when they met and had to battle their doppelgangers; the fighting provided a temporary and partial outlet. As soon as it was over she was slammed and fell to her knees gasping. Leliana knelt down to see what was wrong with her friend.
 
Zevran watched the Wardens ahead of him and thought how very attractive the two of them were while he waited for the women to catch up. He turned around, alarmed, when he heard Pocket Goddess whisper in distress, “Don’t touch me! Don’t . . .” His eyes widened when he saw her cupping Leliana’s face and kissing her. From what he could tell the redhead seemed to be enjoying the contact though he wasn’t sure it was completely reciprocated. When Pocket Goddess looked at him her eyes pleaded for him to do something. He hurried to the Wardens, “My friends, we have a problem.” Fortunately he hid his amusement at the looks on their faces when they saw the scene behind him. He also noticed with interest the glimmer of desire behind the alarm in the templar’s gaze. He stopped them from going forward. “Do not touch her, Wardens. I heard her tell the lovely Leliana the same thing and now they are as you see.”
 
The three men stared at the two women and tried to figure out what to do. Neither lady was paying any attention to the men even though neither were what could be called exhibitionists. Jannasilane might be given to spontaneous displays of affections but this was totally different. “They are a pretty picture but how do we stop it before they go too far?” Blake asked.
 
“Earlier she said she did not like this place; it felt too much like the Fade. When I looked in her eyes I saw a hint of how she was affected by that Desire Demon in the Tower. She was merely uncomfortable and eager to leave. This feeling must have grown stronger as we ventured forward.”
 
Alistair couldn’t say anything. He tried to think but the sight of his Jannasilane in the arms of another woman was more arousing than he would ever have imagined. He was afraid if he spoke he might give himself away.
 
“The Fade?” Blake looked sharply at Zevran. “When I found her she was practically hugging a lyrium growth. She looked happy but I don’t think it was like this. If they built this temple in the middle of a lyrium vein . . .” He tried to remember something Wynne told him about lyrium, “Wynne said Fade lyrium is different. I know Package was bothered by the desire demon, maybe the lyrium here has the same effect?” He looked at Alistair then.
 
Alistair nodded his head, “That . . . that makes sense.” He understood what Blake was saying, that the lyrium might be affecting his Jannasilane this way because of the Need. “Then let me try to cleanse the area around them. I think it will be safer if you two get ready to pull Leliana away and try not to touch Jannasilane. She’s going to be upset enough because of Leliana; I don’t want her to feel worse because you also become embroiled.” The other two agreed and went to stand on either side of the redhead.
 
With one last look at the two women caressing each other Alistair closed his eyes. Partly it was to not distract himself but mostly it was to try and feel the energy. “Okay, I can do this. Interesting, it’s a lot like the magical energy around a mage . . . oooh, that’s different.” He mentally staggered under the wave of desire that swamped the area, “Is it because we’re involved, I’m a Warden or maybe because I’m a templar?” He opened his eyes briefly and saw that Blake and Zevran were unaffected. “OK, not a Warden thing.” He started to collect his will and monitored the energy cycle, judging the ebb and flow and timed his cleansing to the next low. “Now!” he commanded. The rogues quickly grabbed Leliana by the shoulders and pulled her away from Jannasilane and then let her go.
 
Once she was not touching Jannasilane Leliana quickly came to her senses, “What happened? I was . . . oh, how embarrassing.”
 
Blake quickly reassured her, “It’s not your fault. We think this temple is built into a lyrium vein and I know from the Circle that Package is unusually affected by the stuff.”
 
“Yes, poor Minit has been uneasy since we stepped inside. Fortunately Alistair was here. His skills as a templar were quite useful in disrupting things long enough for us to pull you apart. Although I do think he found the sight of the two of you intriguing. It is a good thing he did not become a templar for I believe inside the man lies quite the sensualist. Not a desirable trait for a career in the Chantry.”
 
On the other side of the room Alistair was talking quietly to a mortified Jannasilane. “It isn’t your fault, my love. We think we’re surrounded by lyrium and that’s why you were affected so badly. Your, um, your sense of desire is already . . . well there’s the whole Need thing . . . so you were especially vulnerable.” He couldn’t help stuttering when he spoke of such an intimate subject.
 
“But, but the Need doesn’t make other Wardens desire me like this did Leliana. I attacked her,” she whispered in horror at what she had done to her friend. She was almost in tears.
 
Alistair blinked, “Um, you didn’t know? You know how Blake prefers men, right?” Jannasilane nodded, eyebrows furrowed as she wondered why he was talking about Blake. “Well, I don’t know if she prefers women but she does like women in that, umm, in that way. You are incredibly sexy and attractive and exciting so I would be surprised if she didn’t notice.”
 
“Perhaps. Can we just go, please?” she asked plaintively.
 
Alistair sighed. He stood and offered his hand to help her up but wasn’t surprised when she refused. He stayed with her and did a mana cleanse every few minutes in an effort to keep her from being overwhelmed by the lyrium again. “Two more tests to go; I wonder what form they’ll take. I rather liked the riddles but fighting myself? Not so much.”
 
“Symbolically defeating the worst part of you is a feature in many stories and legends of heroes on quests of great importance. I think it is a way of demonstrating your strength of character and worthiness. Looking inside for your own flaws is not always easy and rarely pleasant. I remember a street fair Lady Cecile wanted to attend, there were jugglers and dancers as well as vendors selling everything from kitchen utensils to hair ribbons to sticky sweets. It was so exciting; I was still young enough to be enthralled by the colors and the movement. We came upon a play, I do not know the title, already well past the beginning and there was one man on stage. He waved his sword in the air as if fighting an invisible foe; from the few words and shouts he let fall it became clear he was trying to overcome his baser nature. We stayed only short time after his victory but that scene is still vivid in my memory,” Leliana smiled as she remembered the kindness of the elderly lady after her mother died.
 
“I’ve never been to a fair. Is it like the Denerim marketplace?” Jannasilane was relieved to talk about something far removed from what she considered her personal failure.
 
“I’ll take you to one and you can see for yourself,” Alistair promised. “But I think we will have to wait until after the Blight. Somehow I doubt anybody is thinking of street fairs these days.” They continued down the narrow corridor until they reached a large round room with the middle floor missing. “This is different. Look at all the plates around the edge of the opening.”
 
“I love puzzles,” Leliana chimed.
 
When Blake cautiously stepped on one of the plates a shimmery piece of a bridge appeared. “Looks like we have to work together to build a way across, try the other plates.” They tried different combinations but could never get the entire bridge to appear.
 
The next time the first segment became solid Jannasilane stepped on it. “Maybe we need to build this crossway one piece at a time.”
 
“Then I should go first. As the leader it is up to me to take the risks.”
 
She shook her head, “I am here now. I have the utmost faith that you and my Ali will make sure I get across safely, as will Leliana and Zevran.”
 
“I have faith in my friends, faith that one day they will stab me in the back,” Zevran muttered though he was determined to see she did not suffer any harm. “Since Alistair and Blake have solidified the first step why don’t we work to make the next piece of the puzzle my lovely Leliana?”
 
“I think it is a good thing we tested different plates for this bridge puzzle of faith. Now, if I remember correctly stepping on this might show us the next piece.” Her eyes gleamed when she was proved correct.
 
Zevran stepped on a plate he thought would work but it didn’t, “Hmm, I was sure this was the one.” He proceeded to test all the remaining plates but the second bridge segment never solidified.
 
Alistair felt a trickle of cold sweat down his back. He swallowed, “this is a test of faith, right? Then either Blake or I need to move to create the next step.” He looked back and forth between Jannasilane and Blake. He could tell his fellow Warden was also worried but the woman he loved was completely calm. He tried to visualize all their movements and saw the others concentrating as they did the same. Finally he spoke, “I think I’m the one who needs to move.” Hesitantly the others agreed. The next step was the hardest one he had ever taken and he breathed a quick prayer that the bridge holding his Jannasilane was still there. Quickly he moved around to the next plate and the second piece solidified. When Jannasilane stepped on it the first one vanished behind her. They were committed now.
 
After what seemed like hours Jannasilane was across. As soon as she stepped on the other side of the opening the entire bridge became a solid structure. One at a time they joined her. “Andraste favored only the clever, it seems,” Alistair muttered. He grabbed her hand whether she wanted him to or not. He needed the contact. “Let’s hope the last test is not so nerve-wracking.”
 
“Amen to that,” Blake agreed and once again led the way. This last corridor was not as long as the previous ones and at the end they could see a flickering light. They stepped inside a large, beautiful room. In front of them was an ornate altar, behind that a stream of fire and beyond that a grand staircase leading to a statue and . . .
 
Alistair was the first to be able to speak, "By the Maker, it's... it's the Urn of Sacred Ashes! That's it! That's really it!"
 
Zevran gawked, "Mother of Mercy! It... It is real!"
 
“I wasn’t sure it existed,” Blake shook his head in awe. “I agreed to search for the Urn mostly for Eamon’s or Teagan’s good will and cooperation for our efforts. Then when we found out what was happening to the knights of Redcliffe . . . stopping their slaughter was a worthy enough goal but to really see it . . . well.”
 
“I feel so small in comparison,” Jannasilane’s eyes were wide with wonder.
 
Leliana blinked and then giggled. Zevran snorted in amusement. Blake coughed in disbelief. Alistair looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “My love, you are small,” he said drily.
 
Jannasilane scowled back at him, “I know you are all quite willing to tell me this. But I don’t feel small. But this is much bigger than any of us, even you my giant Ali.”
 
Blake was smiling as he studied the altar. He was relieved that Package seemed to be recovering. He looked more closely at the words engraved on the altar and then the flames barring the way. ”Aha, remove all worldly possessions and cleanse ourselves in the flames. Got it,” he began removing his armor and placing each piece of equipment on the altar. “Time to get naked, boys and girls. We have a fire to cross.”
 
“N-n-naked? Are you sure?” Alistair squeaked. Blake pointed to the inscription and watched Alistair’s face as he came to the same conclusion. “Looks like you’re correct.” He turned to Jannasilane and was surprised to see she was already mostly undressed.
 
She blushed but faced him squarely, “Everyone here has already seen me without clothes. I do not bathe with them on I assure you,” she reminded him of the occasions when time was short and the women bathed together in whatever stream was near. She finished undressing and started helping him with his heavy armor. They joined the others and as one the five of them crossed the flames.
 
The Guardian awaited them on the other side, “You have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrims. Behold the Ashes of Andraste.” He restored their clothing to them and vanished. Slowly, reverently they climbed the steps to the Urn.
 
"I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes... I... I have no words to express--"
 
"I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place... but here... here She is."
 
Carefully Blake removed a small pinch of the Ashes and placed it in a small bag he carried solely for that purpose. He stared at the Urn for a moment before turning and descending the staircase. No one spoke a word as they left Andraste’s temple.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 42: Something Wild Unleashed
 
As soon as they were outside Jannasilane took a deep breath of the non-lyrium tainted mountain air. “It is good we found the Ashes for your Arl Eamon but I am very happy to be outside of that place. I feel much clearer,” she stated. She was careful not to look at Leliana. She knew she owed the other woman an apology but preferred to wait until they were alone. Maybe by then she would know what to say. Jannasilane walked ahead of the others as they moved from the shadow of the temple to the open path. Once again she felt that stirring inside her and now she knew it wasn’t the lyrium. She looked up into the sky and saw the dragon circling before slowly descending to perch on the cliff. Once it was near enough for her to see the dragon’s eyes watching her something primal, atavistic was unlocked and she roared out a challenge which was answered by the dragon’s bugle.
 
Alistair’s heart stopped. He caught up to her and blinked at the change in her. Her eyes were glittering and swirling rapidly with the light of battle. A small, feral smile shaped her lips while she watched the dragon thrust from its perch. Alistair wasn’t sure she was even aware of him until she looked at him and grinned, “This will be fun.” With that she leaped to confront the beast.
 
“Maker help us all,” Alistair swallowed back his terror and ran forward with shield and sword to do battle.
 
Grimly Blake, Leliana and Zevran started a barrage of arrows. Their task was made more difficult by the speed of Jannasilane’s movements. She was moving faster than they had ever seen her. “She’s moving to the head! Direct your arrows to wings and hindquarters,” Zevran shouted when she started climbing the back of the dragon. “Braska, my eyes must deceive me, it looks like she is toying with the creature,” he was alarmed, angry, and admiring of her bravado all at the same time.
 
“She is crooning to the dragon, taunting it so Alistair does not get hurt,” Leliana stated, trying to remain calm and focused through fear for her friends.
 
Blake noticed this as well, “At least she shows some consideration. When this is over . . .” he warned through gritted teeth. They separated so they could attack from different angles.
 
Jannasilane felt power surging through her as she fought. The dragon was tiring. Instinct had her driving her dagger through the eye of the beast and hanging on, using her weight to try and bring the head down. She shouted to Alistair, “Ali, the neck!” With one great swing Alistair cut through the neck and jumped back from the dragon’s death throes.
 
Alistair stood up slowly and looked around. Zevran and Leliana were quietly looting the body; Jannasilane was some ways down the hill trying to pull her dagger out of the dragon’s head. Even as cold anger filled him he marveled at the amount of stuff the rogues were finding, “How did it even manage to fly?” He found Blake searching for something and intercepted him when he saw Jannasilane and started walking in that direction. “I’ll take it from here,” he said calmly and deliberately.
 
Blake studied his friend; he felt the anger emanating from the warrior. “Very well, we’ll give Brother Genitive the news,” he said before walking away. He stopped. He looked over his shoulder, “Alistair, give her a few licks from me, will you?” and returned to the dragon’s body. Very quickly they finished stripping anything useful. Blake even took some dragon scales, he thought they might make a good armor for Alistair and after today he felt nobody deserved it more. With few words he directed Leliana and Zevran to the ruined temple where Wynne and the brother waited. Leliana started to protest leaving without her friend but he silenced her with a glare. They were almost at the entrance when they heard a loud thwack followed by a cry. Blake smiled with satisfaction and the three of them entered the ruin and could hear no more.
 
When Blake reached the dragon Alistair turned back to Jannasilane and stalked towards her. She finally pulled her dagger out after a great deal of effort; the fall caused it to be firmly embedded in the skull. The sun was behind him and she didn’t see the expression on his face when she leapt into his arms and kissed him. He couldn’t help responding with bruising kisses of his own, so great was his relief that she was unharmed. “That was so exciting, my Ali.”
 
Her words brought his anger back to the fore and he bit her lip. He set her down with a thud and began shaking her by the shoulders, “Are you out of your mind?!” he snarled. “You put all of us at risk on a, a whim. If you died . . .” he couldn’t speak past that. He closed his eyes and didn’t move or let her go.
 
Tentatively she tried to calm him, “But we are all unharmed, Alistair, my sweet Ali.”
 
His nostrils flared and he opened his eyes. His gaze burned into hers, “You. Don’t. Get. It.” Later he would not be able to decide if he was influenced by Blake and Zevran or not when he hauled her over to a boulder where he could sit down and place her over his knee. He didn’t hesitate to bring his hand down hard on her rear as she squirmed. Her cry of pain and outrage didn’t stop him from smacking her again. He frowned, dissatisfied with the result. He wanted to feel her flesh burn under his hand. He held her down and clumsily reached around her to unbuckle her belted skirt and let it fall to the ground. He used her own dagger to slice through her smalls and the laces on one side of her tunic.
 
She started when she felt the cold metal of his gauntlets baring her bottom to his gaze and the brisk mountain air. If she didn’t feel humiliated before she did then; she didn’t know they were alone on the mountain. She refused to cry out when he began spanking her again even though the pain was sharper and more personal flesh to flesh. She couldn’t hold out forever and began crying. At the same time a part of her was excited by his domination.
 
Alistair stared at her lovely rounded rear exposed to him. Faint pink marks showed where he’d hit her before. This time when he brought his hand down smartly on her bottom he could feel the warmth rising when she jumped in pain. He traced the outline of his fingers causing her to hiss. He smiled grimly and began spanking her in earnest. He didn’t stop until every inch of her ass and the backs of her upper thighs were bright red and he could no longer tell where one blow ended and the next began. His chest was heaving as he bent over her and placed feather light kisses on that red, red flesh. Jannasilane whimpered and squirmed against him. The touch of his lips was so much more intense than if he hadn’t laid a hand on her; the pain a counterpoint to unexpected pleasure. She could feel his smile against her skin before he rubbed his chin against her flesh, the roughness of his unshaven face exciting the nerve endings further.
 
When he helped her sit up the cool metal, even rough as it was, of his armor was welcome on her bare skin. She turned so she was facing him and straddling his thigh. His hands surrounded her waist. She cupped his face in her hands and stroked his cheeks with her thumb. Somberly he tracked the trails of her tears with his eyes. He shuddered, “Do you know what it would have done to me if you died? It was bad enough when you stepped on the bridge; somebody had to do it. But the dragon? You challenged a high dragon. You put yourself at risk unnecessarily and all of us with you. We could have let it be. Why? And why didn’t you say something about the Gauntlet feeling like the Fade earlier? I might have been able to help you before you and Leliana-”
 
She shushed him with a kiss. “I am so sorry, my Ali. I never wanted to hurt you. I think perhaps pride is another of my failings, along with temper. I hoped to get through the Gauntlet without troubling you. If Leliana hadn’t touched me I might have succeeded but I realize now I was distracting myself and this could have endangered us all.” She leaned her forehead against his and was relieved to feel him stroking her back like he usually did. It was a bit odd, one gauntlet on and one off but she didn’t mind. “I am not sure how to explain the dragon. I felt something inside earlier but it was so . . . so faint I could ignore it, like a far off echo which could easily have been explained by the smell of dragonlings, the reavers, or even the lyrium. But after the Ashes, when we stepped outside, the dragon was much closer than before and the something unlocked and, and this knowledge or instinct filled me, that this is what I was born to do. Next thing I knew I was running to meet it. Excitement, exhilaration, power; I felt all of these things and when the battle was over so very, very sexy. I wanted to do nothing but crawl all over you,” Jannasilane blushed and shivered as she admitted her desire.
 
“And instead I hurt you. I wanted to punish you,” he grimaced. “That doesn’t say much for me, does it? I get angry and, even if it was justified, it doesn’t mean that I get to hit you.”
 
“You were right to be angry. If my actions caused you to be hurt or killed by that dragon . . . I do not know what I would have done. Something in me would have died this I know in my heart,” she shrugged shakily. “You spanked me. I was surprised and humiliated until I realized we were alone. I knew you would not go beyond that. You would never truly hurt me.”
 
“I made you cry,” Alistair said stubbornly, not ready to believe she didn’t seem to mind.
 
She waved that aside and nibbled his ear, “You’ve bitten me before and caused small bruises. I kind of liked you being so out of control and dominating. This is truth. I could feel your kisses so much more intensely, even where your lips were chapped from the wind. I am no fragile flower. The touch of your fingers, so gentle after the pain, I did not expect to enjoy your touching me but I do. If I thought you were capable of more I do not think I would . . .” her voice trailed off as she struggled to explain.
 
He held her back so he could look into her eyes, “You really mean it.” He lovingly fondled the curves he so recently abused and watched the desire wash over her face. He felt his own desire rise, desire with a dark edge, and buried his hands in her hair before kissing her. Willingly she opened her mouth to his demands and thrilled to his caresses. “I wish I could bury myself in you here and now,” he smiled wolfishly when she quivered against him, “but the others are waiting for us. Time to go.” He held up the remains of her smalls with a rueful expression, “Sorry about this and your tunic.” He tied it as much as possible and kissed her exposed flesh before holding the rest of the tunic in place while she adjusted her skirtpiece. She seemed a little jumpy when they began walking. “Are you okay?” he asked doubtfully.
 
She blushed and had a hard time looking him in the eye, “It is just that, when the f-fringe rubs against me I feel your hands on me and I want more.” Alistair inhaled sharply. He didn’t know how he would be able to wait until they were alone in their tent.
 
They wended their way through the ruins, each deep in their own thoughts. “Do you think attacking the dragon had something to do with you being a Griffonsong? Maybe that’s one way they helped the Wardens, holding the head down I mean,” Alistair finally broke the silence.
 
“I have been wondering the same. It makes sense, though Mother said nothing in her journal.”
 
“She probably never faced a bunch of dragons before. Most people never see one their whole lives,” he answered drily. “Do you mind if I read it sometime? Her journal?”
 
Jannasilane shook her head, “You may not understand much of it. Mother was rather obscure in many of her references.”
 
“I suppose she had to be, just in case somebody else found it,” Alistair tried to imagine how difficult it would be to keep their legacy secret from the world yet maintain a record for future generations. From what little he’d seen it wasn’t encrypted.
 
Blake had sent the others, except Zevran, back to Haven. He wanted time to think and he wanted some time alone with the elf. Andraste knew it was hard to be alone at camp. The tents were nice enough, better than being in the open, but only gave the illusion of privacy. He smiled as he remembered Brother Genitivi’s excitement. He wanted to return immediately and tell the Chantry but Wynne nagged him into agreeing to stay with them until they were off the mountain. She would use that time to heal him as much as possible.
 
“What has you smiling so handsomely, my dear Warden?” Zevran purred.
 
“Genitivi was as excited as a child on Feast day, wasn’t he? By the time he reaches Denerim he’ll have an entire plan for pilgrims to seek the Urn.”
 
“Humph, he should charge admission. That should fill the Chantry’s coffers,” Zevran was pragmatic. He moved closer to the Warden, every movement a symphony of sinuousness. “It has been a long day and you are looking tired. Perhaps when we are back in camp I could offer you a massage such as can only be learned in an Antivan ****house?”
 
Blake grinned and didn’t bother to hide his desire, “That sounds good to me.”
 
“And if it should lead to more than that?” Zevran held his breath.
 
“We’re both clever enough to think of something,” Blake bent forward so he could nibble the elf’s sensitive ear.
 
“That we are, oh handsome leader of men, that we are,” Zevran turned his head so he could finally taste the lips of the man of whom he’d been dreaming for so long. He allowed Blake to lean him against the wall and press against him, his arousal apparent. When he moved his hips just so Blake groaned and he became more demanding. 
 
Blake tangled his hands in Zevran’s hair, pulling it to the point of pain. Finally he stopped kissing the smaller man, “I have thought of touching you, pounding into you for so long, exploring every line of every tattoo and discovering what pleases you.” His breathing was harsh as he tried to control himself. He looked into Zevran’s eyes, amber heat met silver desire and his nostrils flared. Finally he pulled away to their mutual disappointment, “I don’t want the first time to be some rushed business while we wait for Alistair and Package.”
 
“Perhaps they would like to join us,” Zevran teased.
 
Blake shook his head, smirking, “I have imagined it but I don’t know that they would agree. Tonight I want to have my cake and eat it too, not share it even with two good friends.”
 
Zevran raised an eyebrow, “Do you not already share everything?” he was a bit surprised that he still felt rancor at the thought of the three of them together though he tried not to show it.
 
“You’ve been listening to Morrigan,” Blake said. He traced the inked lines on the Antivan’s face with eyes and finger. He didn’t want to look in Zevran’s stare just then. “I won’t deny there have been . . . occasions for reasons I am not free to divulge . . . occasions when the three of us . . . between he and I there has been nothing. Nor can I promise that there might not be a reoccurrence. I can tell you we would prefer that events . . .” He closed his eyes and shuddered when Zevran slowly took his finger in his mouth and began sucking, a promise of things to come.
 
Zevran didn’t remove it when he began speaking, “Forget I asked, my dear Warden.” He circled Blake’s finger teasingly with his tongue, more than pleased when his actions elicited a groan from the larger man hovering over him. “I do not ask for more than you are willing to give.” He lightly bit down before slipping away.
 
“By Andraste’s bloomers you have a wicked tongue, Zevran Arainai,” Blake growled. His eyes were hooded when he stared at the other man, “I trust your wickedness does not end there.” Zevran smirked and didn’t answer though his gaze promised much.
 
They waited side by side. Each could feel the heat and smell the desire emanating from the other. They said nothing more until they finally saw Alistair and Jannasilane at the top of the stairs on the far end of the hall. “Do you think our now-only-mostly-innocent young templar was able to properly chastise the fearless pocket goddess at his side?”
 
“I damn well hope so,” Blake said, his anger returning. “He wasn’t that fierce when he had you by the throat. She deserves all the thrashing she got and then some for her recklessness.”
 
“I do not like to admit the fear I felt when she ran towards the beast, but didn’t she look magnificent? Truly she was a goddess in that moment, her hair flying in the air around her and her eyes gleaming in anticipation of victory. Never once did she doubt the outcome. Sexy, wild . . . quite the sight,” Zevran sighed dramatically, pleased to see the anger ebbing from the Warden.
 
Blake stared at her as they approached his arms akimbo; he missed nothing as he perused her and hid his amusement at the lack of lacing. “Let’s go. The others are probably in Haven by now.” He had to bite his tongue when Alistair and Package blushed bright red. Alistair fell into step beside him on the descent to the village. Blake peered sideways, “Is our Package properly disciplined?” He smirked when Alistair flushed and raised an eyebrow when he saw the glimmers of desire behind the embarrassment. “I see you enjoyed yourself.”
 
“Perhaps,” Alistair muttered, “not sure how I feel about that.” He cleared his throat and spoke more clearly, “We have a theory we’d like to discuss later.”
 
“Not tonight,” Blake replied hastily.
 
Alistair shook his head and smiled secretively, “No, not tonight.” As one they turned to look back at the two people talking behind them.
 
“You quite frightened us, bellissima,” Zevran wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He gave her a quick kiss on her temple at the same time he swatted her rear. When she jumped he chuckled, “Ah, I see the compassionate young templar didn’t stop with one stroke. I am not sure I believed he had it in him. Was it all punishment?” he asked slyly. He then laughed outright at her red cheeks and attempts to hide her expression, “This is where I say ‘I told you so;’ I told you that you might enjoy a little spanking and so you did.”
 
Jannasilane tried to glare at him, “You are a wicked man.” Just then Alistair and Blake looked back at them. The same desire on Alistair’s face when he looked at her was on Blake’s as he glanced at Zevran. “Huh, you and my Blake deserve each other. One is as bad as the other.”
 
Zevran leered playfully, “Oh, I am sure I am worse, much worse, my dear. Now, if you and your young man are going to indulge in these games you should know the importance of safe words.” By the time they reached Haven her face was burning as much as Alistair’s ever did.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 43: Apologies
 
Jannasilane walked nervously back and forth by the stream as she waited for Leliana. She needed to apologize for her actions in the Gauntlet but it was hardly something she wanted to discuss where others might hear, especially Morrigan. She smiled a little ruefully, “I might have had an opportunity that first night but my Ali was very demanding. He rushed me inside as soon as the tents were up, he was so intense. I suppose we both were still riding that edge of darkness but afterwards, when we were calmer, it didn’t feel right. Somehow I do not think we will be making use of Zevran’s advice. It is a good thing I did not tell Ali all Zevran said. It was quite fun making him turn redder and redder; perhaps if he gets angry with me I will tell him more so I can watch him blush. He is so cute when he blushes.” She didn’t hear Leliana’s approach and whirled around when the redhead tapped her shoulder, “Leliana, you startled me. You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”
 
“Which is why I do it, of course,” Leliana couldn’t help laughing at her friend’s scowling expression. “What did you wish to say that you couldn’t say in camp?” She was glad they had this opportunity to talk away from everybody so she could apologize to her friend. She owed more than one person an apology and it was time to begin.
 
“I’m so sorry, Leliana, about what happened on the way to the Urn. I shouldn’t have attacked you . . . f-forced myself on you,” Jannasilane was actually wringing her hands in distress and wouldn’t look at her.
 
“This has been bothering you this whole time? You apologized to me once. Zevran and Blake told me about the desire demon and Blake said in the Fade that he didn’t like the effect lyrium had on you. I never blamed you,” she scolded with affection. “You took me by surprise but I think I could have gotten away from you.” She sighed at the look of surprise on her young friend’s face, “I think that perhaps I owe you an apology.” She sat on a boulder by the stream and stared into the rippling current until Jannasilane settled beside her. “I envy you, what you have with your Alistair. I had that once, or thought I did. For a few minutes I could pretend I was with Marjolaine and loved. It was nice even though I knew it was a lie, even about Marjolaine loving me. You are a beautiful woman and my friend. I know that you do not care for me as more than such,” she added when Jannasilane moved restlessly beside her. “And even though I find you quite attractive I think of you as a friend and sister, nothing more.”
 
Jannasilane rested her head on Leliana’s shoulder, “I’m sorry you’ve been lonely, Leli. I was afraid I might have lost your friendship because of my actions and this would sadden me. When my parents,” her breath hitched slightly, “when my parents died I lost my family. I like to think they would be happy I found a new one, including a sister.”
 
The two women began gathering what herbs and edible plants they could find, content in the solidity of their friendship. Sometimes they spoke but mostly they were silent. When Blake and Alistair found them they were sitting arm in arm by the stream quietly chatting. “Give you any ideas, Alistair?” Blake teased his friend.
 
“Have I mentioned that I hate you?” Alistair growled but kept his gaze on the pretty picture in front of them. Not even the Archdemon would get him to admit he’d been thinking of the two women together while he watched before joining them. Nor would he admit that he was considering talking to Jannasilane about exploring some options at The Pearl. “Life now is very different from life in the Chantry,” he mused. “Thank the Maker for that.” He stepped forward and kissed Jannasilane on the cheek, “Hello, my love, we were told to get firewood and the mood Morrigan is in I’m not about to disobey. Now that my life includes a precious jewel I don’t want to be turned into a toad.” He smiled at Leliana, “The two of you seem happy enough, I gather all is well?” he looked between the two women. He knew Jannasilane had been feeling miserable about the rift between them and was pleased that they had made amends. His Jannasilane was a passionate woman and did not find it easy to hide her feelings, especially from him.
 
“Yes, Alistair, if you are referring to the Gauntlet then the answer is yes,” Leliana smiled. If Alistair had been looking at her he might have noticed the twinkle of mischief appearing in her eyes. He didn’t and nearly choked at her next words, “A little bird told me that you enjoyed what you saw. I am afraid to disappoint you my friend but fond of you and Jannasilane as I am I am still not willing to be a party to, well, let’s just call it casual experimentation.” She stood then and strolled over to Blake.
 
“Remind me to kill Zevran when I get the chance,” Alistair knew he was blushing. His cheeks practically burned when Jannasilane stared at him, her beautiful eyes full of questions.
 
Jannasilane brought her face to his and whispered softly, “This is true, my Ali? Y-you liked watching us k-kiss and t-t-touch each other?” He didn’t answer directly but the growing desire she saw was answer enough. “Hmmm, if you wish we can d-discuss this later, Ali.”
 
He grinned then, “Well, that will certainly give me something pleasant to think about while I traipse through the woods gathering wood for the witch.” He stood and offered his hand to help her to her feet. A brief caress of her hair and he was gone, whistling cheerfully if tunelessly.
 
Jannasilane watched him go with a smile and a slight frown. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this new bit of information but, “Fair is fair. My Ali has had to make many sacrifices for me so perhaps I should be willing to try this for him. We will see.” She came out of her reverie to hear Leliana talking to Blake.
 
“. . . I lied to you, you know, about why I was in the Chantry.” Jannasilane started to leave but Leliana stopped her, “No, please stay. You are my friend and deserve to know the truth; I wasn’t there just because I wanted safe harbor from the storm.”
 
“It was pretty obvious you weren’t just some innocent Chantry sister but as long as your reasons don’t affect our mission I had no reason to pry,” Blake responded, his tone dry as dust.
 
“This is truth, Leli, I knew you did not tell us everything but I sensed no big deceit in your words,” Jannasilane added.
 
Leliana blinked in surprise at their generosity, “Now I feel worse about not telling you the truth earlier. In Orlais I was a bard and my bard master was a woman named Marjolaine. Yes,” she looked at Jannasilane directly, “the same woman I spoke of before. Here the terms bard and minstrel are used interchangeably but in Orlais not understanding the difference can cost you your life and worse, your reputation. Bards are minstrels and more. They are spies, thieves and can even be assassins on behalf one of the noble houses. In Orlais you are not permitted to openly display dislike or rivalry so the nobles wear false faces in public and scheme in private, it is all a great game to them and it is important to play the game well. I was on a mission to steal some papers from a man. I found them.”
 
“They were important?” Jannasilane asked quietly.
 
“Very. Taking them would be an act of treason,” the bard frowned at the memory.
 
“Isn’t that what bards do?” Blake shrugged negligently.
 
Leliana looked at him, “Well, yes, some do. But we had always confined ourselves to activities between the nobles. Skilled bards can do quite well for themselves without the increased risk of spying against Orlais. I went to Marjolaine and begged her not to do this thing; that I feared for her safety. She told me they were old papers which could be used against her and she would destroy them. I loved her, and I believed her. I thought she loved me but I was wrong. She betrayed me. The guards showed me the documents and I saw they had been altered to implicate me and not her. They did . . . terrible things,” her voice was rough in remembered distress.
 
“I am so sorry, Leliana,” Jannasilane hugged her friend.
 
Leliana returned the embrace, accepting the comfort offered. “It was a traitor’s death they planned for me.” She smiled sadly, “my bard training came in useful and I was able to escape. Eventually I found my way to Lothering and took sanctuary in the Chantry. There I found peace and the Maker.”
 
Blake frowned, “Is there anything else? Are your enemies likely to interfere in our efforts?”
 
“I have seen no signs of them. This was a few years ago and I am sure more important things have occurred to occupy their energies.”
 
His face cleared, “Good. I better catch up to Alistair. I don’t want Package snuggling up to a giant toad, though I doubt Morrigan will actually turn him into one. Although,” he smiled devilishly, “I wouldn’t put it past her to do something if he annoys her enough. She hasn’t liked him from the beginning and he has a knack for annoying her without trying,” He left them to catch up to Alistair.
 
“I’ll feed her to the fishes if she hurts my Ali,” Jannasilane scowled.
 
Leliana choked back a laugh, “You’ve been reading too many of Wynne’s novels. She has a surprising taste for lurid and overblown fiction for one who looks so proper. Speaking of fish, why don’t we try to catch some for dinner? You move quickly and have very good reflexes; I believe you would do well with a spear,” Leliana said and began searching for the right size stick or sapling.
 
The fish they caught was a welcome addition to dinner that night. “This is a meal such as we have in Seheron. I had almost forgotten the taste of roasted fish. My thanks,” Sten commented to the surprise of all. He did not acknowledge their surprise in any way and continued calmly eating the fish. By tacit agreement the others let him have as much as he liked. He restrained himself from eating it all, “An unexpected courtesy. Even more unexpected is they said nothing; not even the witch creature who appears to seek out ways to exercise her sarcasm and dubious wit against others. I am glad the Arishok only asked me to find out about the Blight and not to try and understand the reasoning of humans, particularly Fereldans. I fear my mission would be certain failure otherwise.”
 
Alistair and Jannasilane tidied up camp and headed to their tent. Alistair frowned when they got closer, “Is that . . . why is Blake’s shirt hanging outside the tent and why,” he sniffed it, perplexed,” why does it smell faintly of fish?”
 
She looked up at him, chewing her bottom lip worriedly, “It still smells of fish? We needed something to carry the cleaned fish we caught and Blake’s shirt was the first thing I found. I rinsed it out afterward and hung it up to dry. Maybe the smell will go away if we leave it outside some more?” she asked hopefully.
 
“Maybe,” Alistair answered doubtfully. “He’ll probably spend time with Zevran. It might be dry and fresher smelling by then. No use worrying about it now. And I believe we have other things we can discuss or do to pass the time,” he waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer and ushered her inside while she snickered.
 
Inside Zevran’s tent the two men were already naked. Zevran reclined against Blake while he ran his fingers through his hair or traced one of his many tattoos. Neither was in a particular hurry, unlike the first time they were together. Blake smiled ruefully, remembering. “I was so hard by the time we reached his tent the promised massage had to wait. It took all my patience just to make sure Zev was prepared. Fortunately he was as eager as I was.” He kissed the top of the assassins head, sniffing in the potent mix of sandalwood, cinnamon and Zevran.
 
“What are you thinking, oh mighty leader of men?” Zevran asked. He was surprised to find himself enjoying this rather peaceful interlude. He felt Blake’s grin.
 
“Just how passion overruled finesse our first time.”
 
“That was not such a bad thing as I recall,” Zevran purred in remembrance, his amber eyes glowed with warmth.
 
Blake nibbled his ear, causing shivers to course down his spine. “No,” he replied, “not a bad thing at all.” Delicately he traced the contours of Zevran’s ear before shifting so he could move his lips over those exquisite cheekbones, the sinuous lines of his tattoos and finally that smiling mouth. Zevran opened up so their tongues could play and explore the moist caverns. Their breathing became heavier. Blake moved so he could nibble the elf’s jaw, neck and shoulders. He placed bruising kisses on the lithe chest and rolled the small nipple around in his mouth before sucking. Zevran arched up against him and Blake sucked even harder while pinching the other one with his fingers. Zevran ran his hands up and down the larger rogue’s back and sides in hard, slow strokes which caused Blake to redouble his efforts.
 
“The Warden has a very talented tongue; he could make a fortune if he were so inclined.” He gasped a little when the Warden moved down to circle his navel. “Luckily for him I have more than a few moves of my own and very flexible toes.” He felt Blake smile against his stomach muscles when he began to caress the other man’s calf with his foot. When he began kneading the muscle with his toes Blake looked up and quirked an eyebrow at Zevran.
 
“Aren’t you the clever one?” he grinned wolfishly.
 
Zevran grasped his hair, “Your hair is almost long enough for me to wrap around my fingers.”
 
Blake bent down and slowly licked the tip of his erection before answering, “Why do think I’ve been letting it grow out?” He wrapped his mouth around the column of flesh begging for his attention. “I enjoy having my hair tugged while I taste another man,” his words were a bit muffled.
 
“I shall endeavor to remember that,” Zevran growled. He pinched the sensitive skin behind Blake’s knees between his toes.
 
“Definitely a clever, clever man,” Blake nuzzled Zevran’s balls, inhaling the musky scent before gently sucking them into his mouth and holding them. He allowed his teeth to lightly graze the delicate skin as he removed the balls from his mouth so he could slowly lick the tattoo stretching from Zevran’s base to his tip. Tonight he was determined to bring Zevran over before he took his own pleasure.
 
Zevran hissed in his breath when Blake lightly scritched the skin behind his sac. In his experience few bothered to explore that particular area between genitals and rear, the Pleasure Plain a delightful woman from Nevarra called it, and so failed to realize just how enjoyable he found it when caressed just so. He grew even harder and Blake began bobbing his head up and down, taking in a little more with each stroke. Zevran fought back the urge to thrust into that warm and skilled mouth. He knew if he did he would fall into the beckoning abyss and he wished to draw out the experience for both their enjoyment. He just had the presence of mind to reach for a particular vial of oil and put it next to the Warden.
 
Blake got a firm grip on Zevran’s hips before beginning to suck hard. He swallowed the seed as it came, being careful not to let any dribble out. He shuddered to hear the Antivan cry out in ecstasy with the last drop spilled. He slowly fondled the softening member with his tongue as he eased away. He moved up to kiss those smiling lips and Zevran stretched against him, the friction causing Blake’s straining manhood to jerk. “You have neglected yourself, my dear Warden,” he bumped against the other man.
 
Blake grinned, “We can’t have that, can we? Turn over,” he commanded hoarsely. Willingly Zevran complied, touching as much of the other man in the process as he could. For just a minute Blake leaned on one arm and admired the elegant form lying beside him. He stroked Zevran like he would a cat and the elf reacted like one, purring and arching into his hand. “You remind me of these great golden cats I’ve read about: sleek, dangerous, elegant. Apparently somnolent one minute only to become a blur of deadly activity the next. Your blades are as lethal as their claws.” He reached for the oil and poured some into his hand, making sure his fingers were well slicked. He paused and sniffed, “Minty,” he commented and continued. He bent and kissed those shoulder blades, nibbling his way from one to the other while he began massaging the tight circle of muscle between those firm cheeks.
 
“I think you will find, Warden, that this particular oil will give both of us more enjoyment,” he lifted his rear in invitation, bringing his knees under him so Blake would have better access.
 
They both moaned when Blake slid one finger inside and back out, hooking it ever so slightly to hit the pleasure spot as he thrust it in and out. Blake added a second finger then a third, carefully stretching and preparing Zevran to receive him. “It is,” he growled, “surprisingly tingly.” He gasped at the sensation when he began coating his straining manhood, “I think I understand.” He carefully positioned it at the entrance and grabbed Zevran’s hips. Slowly he guided himself inside, savoring the feel of tight heat encasing his member bit by slow bit, Zevran’s oil creating little sparks which cascaded through his nerves. When he was fully buried he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Zevran deliberately moved against him, sparking more tingles. Blake hissed and tangled his hands in that golden hair and eased him up until the elf was leaning against him. He wrapped his arm around him, one hand fondling Zev’s nipples and the other his groin.
 
“Look over there,” he directed. He nibbled Zevran’s ears. “I want you to imagine a large mirror and we are both looking into it, watching as I take you. Watch our hands fondling you, stroking you, fueling your desire to the peak once more.” Slowly he started thrusting, moving in and out. He moaned, his breath hitched and he changed his rhythm. “I’m moving faster, focus on our hands, the difference in skin tones around your magnificent erection. Isn’t that a lovely sight?” He gave a hard push and stopped, briefly. Zevran moaned. “Reach back and wrap your hands behind my head, holding me close. Watch me watching the pleasure wash over you as you come into my hands.” With a few well-timed strokes he took Zevran over the edge once more. “That’s right, arch your back and let yourself go, watch your seed spurt into my hands and the air. Look at my face as I come close to my own completion. I’m grabbing your hips and am starting to pound into you. I’m close, can’t you see my concentration?” Zevran shivered at the words in his ear and the effects of the other man’s movements. “I want to taste your skin,” Blake bit the flesh between neck and shoulder, then began lightly sucking. “Mmmm, salt and spice. You are so tight and hot around me, soon I’m going to empty myself inside you. You feel full now and will feel even fuller before I’m done.” Blake groaned then. His breathing became harsh and uneven. He was trembling with the effort to stay in control for just a minute more and finally let himself go. He gripped Zevran’s hips so tight his fingers left bruises. He pushed forward and Zevran braced his arms on the ground to give Blake more resistance. He enjoyed the moment when the Warden lost control. Blake moved hard and fast and deep. He cried out when he finally came, barely having the presence of mind to not completely collapse on the smaller man. Instead he rolled them so they were in spooning position and he could continue slowly moving in and out with the aftershocks.
 
“I’m happy that you are of such an adventurous disposition, Warden,” Zevran purred. His arms were entwined with Blake’s around his waist. He could feel Blake calming and smiled to himself. “Handsome and desirable were quite evident. You have a quick mind and skillful tongue. But that you have such imagination is quite a bonus. What is your opinion of ropes and knots?” he asked playfully.
 
Blake chuckled and tightened his arms around the elf. He rubbed his face against Zevran’s hair and sighed contentedly, “So many possibilities, so little time.” It had been a long time since he’d felt so relaxed. He knew he would have to leave soon so he could sleep but the other man felt so good in his arms he wanted to enjoy it a bit longer. “I’m glad you're willing to stay with me for awhile, that this isn't a one time, or maybe I should say a three time thing. He tried to stifle a yawn but knew he was unsuccessful when Zevran laughed softly.
 
"Let me make it simple for you, my dear Warden," Zevran struggled to put thoughts into words. That his desires and years of training put into practice conflicted with each other didn't make it easier for him to speak. He turned to face the other man, not resisting the urge to stroke the nicely muscled chest in front of him. "I meant what I said before. I ask no more than you are willing to give. I have enjoyed our time together but if it is your wish to end it now or next week, then so it shall be.” He worked hard to keep his breathing even and his expression light. With a feigned air of nonchalance he traced the light sprinkling of hair on Blake’s chest which trickled down to his groin.    
 
“Liar,” Blake thought. He decided not to challenge his lover however since he wasn’t sure how he felt. Instead he pretended to be amused, “What? No flowers or long protestations of everlasting love? I’m crushed,” he fluttered his eyelashes and was rewarded with quick grin. He ran his hand up and down the other’s lean form, “I can live with continuing as we are. So be it, until one of us is tired of the other we will enjoy each other’s company. I hope that day doesn’t come soon since there are still so many things we have yet to do,” he drawled, his voice husky with a tinge of wicked.
 
“That we do, my dear Warden, that we do,” Zevran’s accent was thicker than usual. He tangled his fingers in that thick dark hair and pulled Blake’s head down for a kiss. A short time later Blake sighed and began to get dressed. Zevran watched him with hooded eyes. He knew he shouldn’t feel irritated at the Warden’s leaving, especially after their recent discussion, but he didn’t like being left like this. Other lovers leaving when their activities were concluded never bothered him but this . . . “Blake, Warden, I know my tent is small but it is still large enough for both of us to sleep. You did just put a mirror in here, after all,” he jested.
 
Blake eyed the golden body displayed so temptingly and sighed with regret, “We would probably get distracted and I need sleep. I tend to be, well restless is as good a word as any and I don’t want to disturb you.”
 
“Perhaps you would sleep better after ‘exercise’ to relieve your restlessness,” Zevran spoke with all the honeyed seduction at his command. Blake hesitated but finally shook his head and left. Zevran looked around his small tent and felt bereft. In irritation both at himself and the Warden he finished cleaning up and setting things to rights. He crawled into his bedroll and couldn’t help wishing it was the dark Warden staving off the night chill instead of a pair of blankets.
 
Blake trudged back to his tent. He would rather have stayed but he wasn’t prepared to inflict his nightmares on anybody else. He smiled a little when he heard Alistair snoring. In the dim light he could see Package snuggled up against her warrior, his arms wrapped around her. He sighed and got under the covers. Maybe he would think of some way to explain to Zevran that wouldn’t betray any of Package’s secrets.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 44: Something to Think About
 
Once they were out of the mountains and on the road to Redcliffe they made good time. Blake continued to spend part of each night in Zevran’s tent. The two Wardens were leading the way and Morrigan found herself walking beside the assassin. She commended the elf on his cleverness, “That is wily of you, Zevran.”
 
“What is so wily of me, o magical temptress?”
 
“Getting in the good graces of the one who decides whether you live or die. Not to mention the one who can protect you against your former comrades,” she slanted her gaze sideways in his direction.
 
Zevran merely raised an eyebrow, “And I am supposed to believe you are here because of a... sense of patriotism, perhaps?”
 
She snorted, “Ha! Hardly that.”
 
“We all have our reasons for doing what we do. Mine happen to come with a set of strong hands,” he chuckled at her look of cynical amusement.
 
Blake and Alistair moved farther ahead so they could talk. “Tomorrow we’ll be in Redcliffe and see if the Ashes cure Arl Eamon,” Blake began. “You know he’s going to want to propose you as king since you are Maric’s son, don’t you?” Alistair nodded glumly. “I hate to tell you that he’s right. He may have a slightly better claim to the crown than Loghain, but not enough to sway many of the nobles. I daresay the fact his men weren’t at Ostagar will be used against him and I’m sure my family name is thoroughly blackened at the moment, so that leaves you to be the rallying point against Loghain.”
 
“I don’t want to be king but if putting me forward now makes it easier to build our army then I won’t argue. But I will not be king if it means losing my Janna.” Alistair scowled and then looked at Blake in consideration, “You know, you’re not bad looking.”
 
Blake blinked, he couldn’t help it. “You’re not thinking of hopping borders!” he exclaimed, “If you do I’ll lose my bet with Zevran.”
 
Alistair rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him, “You’re also a Cousland, the highest noble family outside the Theirin line. You could marry Anora. That would satisfy everybody but Eamon. You would be a much better king; you know politics and how to rule and could certainly keep Anora in check. Think about it.”
 
“You’ve been hiding that devious mind. I didn’t know you had it in you, big guy. We have a long way to go before we have to make any decisions although I think you’re selling yourself short. Nice to know you’re more than a pretty face,” he teased. He laughed outright when Alistair blushed. Jannasilane joined them, “Package, I was just telling Alistair he is not simply a pretty face.”
 
Jannasilane looked at him in all seriousness, “No, more than his face is pretty. Even Morrigan thinks he has a nicely shaped rear. His hair is sunny gold and his muscles are so big and well-shaped. I like his chest hair. It is thick and crinkly and goes all the way down . . . rrmph!” She gave a muffled shriek when Alistair picked her up and ran; his hand covering her mouth. Blake could see that even Alistair’s ears were red and he began laughing. Behind him some of his companions who had moved close enough to hear her were also chuckling. Even Wynne had a smile on her face.
 
Zevran, Morrigan and Shale were the last ones to gather. “Is there a reason for such jocularity in the middle of the road?” the golem demanded.
 
“At camp tonight, when Alistair and Package are together, ask her about his chest hair,” Blake snickered.
 
“Why would I want to inquire about such a, ugh, flesh creature thing?” Shale said irritably.
 
“Never mind, my fine rock friend, I shall do the asking and you need only observe,” Zevran was delighted to have something new in his templar-baiting repertoire.
 
That night all were around the campfire. Zevran waited until the warrior was comfortably settled next to Pocket Goddess and eating his stew before speaking, “So, Alistair,” he got the templar’s attention, “tomorrow we shall be in Redcliffe.” Alistair nodded warily. “I suppose you and the Warden will be checking on the status of your investment. I have been in many fine taverns and would like to offer you the benefit of my experience.”
 
Alistair relaxed, “Ha, you just want to flirt with Bella.”
 
“You wound me, Blake and I both want to flirt with the beauteous Bella.” The templar smiled in good humor and put another large mouthful of stew in his mouth, not noticing the gleam in Zevran’s eyes when he turned to Jannasilane. “My lovely Pocket Goddess, tell me of your fascination with the chest hair of our tempting templar.”
 
Alistair coughed and spewed a mouthful of stew into the fire as soon as he heard the words ‘chest hair.’ He wasn’t helped at all when Shale thumped him on the back. If he weren’t so strong he would surely have joined the stew in the flames.
 
Jannasilane was shaking her head, “I enjoy running my fingers through it this is truth but I promised my Ali I wouldn’t talk any more about how much I like his hair or how handsome he is.”
 
“I find it refreshing that a young man as attractive as Alistair is so modest about his appearance. Conceit can mar even the most perfect of faces,” Wynne’s soft voice penetrated the laughter.
 
“Oho, you frequently comment on my conceit. I did not realize you found my features so pleasing,” Zevran teased.
 
“I certainly do not,” Wynne snapped.
 
Zevran’s face fell and then understanding filled his expression, “I am crushed but now I see that it is Alistair for whom you have developed a tendresse.”
 
“She cannot have him,” Jannasilane blurted. She knew they were just joking but the words were out before she could stop them. Now it was her turn to become red as the proverbial beet while everybody laughed. Alistair looked smug and pulled her onto his lap so he could hold her while finishing what was left of his stew.
 
Wynne bit back a smile, “I am flattered that you see one as old as I as competition in a race I haven’t entered. On that pleasing sop to my own vanity I shall bid you good night.” Morrigan, Leliana and Shale also drifted away now that the entertainment was over.
 
Alistair looked at his empty bowl and then the stewpot. He wanted more but was well aware that Jannasilane had yet to eat, “You need food, Jannalove. I know you’re nervous about tomorrow but you still need to eat. Thanks, Zev,” he said when the elf handed stew to the woman in his arms as well as refilling his own bowl.
 
Jannasilane sighed, “I know my Ali. But what if the Ashes do not cure Arl Eamon?” She began eating in a desultory fashion.
 
“Worrying about what might happen is pointless when you already know what steps must be taken,” Sten replied. “The Warden believes the effort is necessary to ensure the good will of Redcliffe whether success is had or not. If this is true then it matters not whether this Eamon or his brother are in charge.” He stared calmly at the small woman who looked back at him. “Alistair, are you afraid she will run away if you are not holding her?” Sten did not understand why the other warrior felt the frequent need to hold her like that.
 
“What?” Alistair was a little annoyed at being constantly questioned, teased or harangued about him and his love. “I thought you of all people would approve of the efficiency. Two of my favorite things are cuddling with my lovely Janna and eating. Now I’m doing both at the same time. Don’t Qunari cuddle, ever?”
 
“Cuddle? Do all humans do this?”
 
“Only if they like each other. A lot.”
 
“You and our leader like each other but you do not cuddle,” Sten was perplexed and irritated.
 
Blake decided to intervene before one of the warriors lost their temper, “Alistair means liking each other in a romantic sense. Or possibly for comfort if they are close enough, such as a family member. Want to join me for a ‘cuddle,’ Zevran?”
 
“I would be more than happy to, my handsome Warden,” Zevran purred. “Perhaps even do more than cuddle. Did I ever tell you about the time . . .” His words were cut off by his tent flap closing behind them. Sten silently finished his dinner and left.
 
Alistair rubbed his face against Jannasilane’s hair, “Now it’s only you, me and General Lee.” He planted a kiss on top of her breasts. “Tomorrow we’ll know if Eamon or Teagan is in charge of Redcliffe’s forces. I know they’ll support us but Blake thinks, and I agree that it’s likely that Eamon will want to name me as Cailan’s true heir. That Maric’s son will be a better recruiting tool for our cause than either Eamon or Blake.”
 
Jannasilane suddenly felt cold doubt run down her spine, “S-so you would be king?”
 
“No. No, I don’t even want that. But Loghain is a tough opponent and Maric’s son, even if it is just me, has the only claim to the throne as strong as or stronger than Anora’s. I don’t like it, but we need as many troops as we can get as well as a great deal of support from the nobles. I don’t think they’ll care that much who sits on the throne as long as Loghain is taken down but they risk a lot and will need to be convinced of our, I guess of our commitment before they will even consider throwing their lot in with ours. I just didn’t want you to be caught by surprise if, when Eamon is back on his feet. Remember this, I am yours, always. I don’t care if they want to make me King of all Thedas I will not leave you. If you try to leave me I will follow you. Don’t doubt me on this, Jannasilane Alenahaella,” he warned before capturing her lips with his.
 
“It is too late for either of us, I think,” Jannasilane answered breathlessly. “I love you, always. I will not leave you, this I promise. I might as well not breathe as be without you.”
 
“I kind of like it when you can’t breathe when we’re together,” he quipped, relieved at her response.
 
“You are a bad, bad man,” she kissed him. They quickly cleaned everything they found before heading to their tent.
 
The village was full of activity and the castle was set to rights. Teagan greeted them warmly, his welcome to Jannasilane overly warm in Alistair’s opinion. “You look much happier than the last time I saw you, my dear. I’m glad,” he kissed both of her cheeks while she blushed prettily. He kept her hand tucked in his arm while he escorted the Wardens to Eamon’s room. “I can hardly believe you found the Ashes. I look forward to hearing the story of what must be quite the adventure.”
 
Jannasilane could feel the tension running through him, belying the lightness of his greeting. She rubbed his arm in comfort while they watched the healers use the Ashes. She didn’t notice him looking down at her in gratitude. When Eamon began to stir a few moments later Teagan dropped her arm and rushed to his brother’s side. When Eamon began to speak she quietly left the room to inform the others. On her way she passed by Connor’s room and saw him sitting anxiously near the door pretending to read a book. She went inside and he looked up at her, hope and dread chasing each other across his face. “Your father is recovering; he’s talking to Teagan and your mother right now. I’m sure you’ll be able to see him soon,” she smiled reassuring at the nine year old boy.
 
Connor’s reaction surprised her. His book slid off his lap when he hid his face in his hands to hide his crying. Jannasilane, in deference to his male pride, shut the door and then wrapped her arms around him. He clutched her as if his life depended on it, dragging her to the floor next to him. Jannasilane continued to hold him and stroke his hair and back soothingly while he let the stress of the past few months work itself out. She scowled above his head, wondering if his mother or anybody had bothered to really talk to the boy. He was sobbing so hard she worried he would hurt himself. Finally he quieted except for the occasional hiccupping gulp. He tried to pull himself away but didn’t fight her when she tightened her arms and kissed his hair, “I’m sorry, miss, for, for disturbing you. I’m glad that Father is better, really I am.”
 
“I know you are. The past few months have had much difficulty, have they not?” He nodded, his head pillowed on her breast. “Even I need to cry once in awhile, though I do not like to do so. Do you wish to talk?”
 
He shook his head, “It’s okay for you. You’re a girl.”
 
She rolled her eyes at that but answered quietly, “My Ali is the strongest, bravest man I know and I have seen him cry. It is not easy to be a Grey Warden who has lost everything and know that Ferelden and the whole world are depending on you to stop the Archdemon. Like you he does this in private.”
 
Connor sniffed, “How brave is he?”
 
“Well,” she considered what to tell him, “After we retrieved the Ashes he bashed a dragon and cut off its head.”
 
He looked up at her, his eyes wide, “Did he really?” He was awed by the picture she painted of Alistair rushing a high dragon with sword and shield. He fell asleep, worn out by his emotional storm, while she told him of other adventures. She smiled to herself and continued to hold him.
 
Teagan and the Wardens left Isolde alone with Eamon. Teagan wanted to bring Connor to see his father while the Wardens rejoined their companions. Teagan smiled when he opened the door to Connor’s room, “Connor couldn’t find a better pillow.” He noticed Jannasilane glaring at him, “My lady is angry with me for some reason. Now is not the time but I‘ll be sure to ask her later.” In order not to distress the boy any further he closed the door and knocked loudly enough to awaken him. “Connor? Your father is asking for you.”
 
Connor woke with a start, blushing when realized he’d fallen asleep in Jannasilane’s arms. Tactfully she made no mention of this, “I am happy that your father is well. I will leave so you can quickly refresh yourself if you like.” Quickly she left the room and waited with Teagan.
 
Mere minutes later Connor joined them, eager to see his father at last. He didn’t forget his manners and he bowed to Jannasilane, “Thank you for coming to talk with me. I feel better now.” Then he practically tugged Teagan’s hand to go to Eamon’s side.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 45:  Eamon
 
Jowan was back in the dungeon waiting for the templars to escort him back to the Circle. Eamon stared into the fire. It was so hard to believe that the Hero of River Dane, the farmer’s boy who helped the rebel prince, was so obsessed or insane as to poison him. He shook his head and spoke softly, half to himself, “To kill Cailan . . . poison me . . . he must be mad. What else has he done?” He turned around and examined the group of people gathered in the Main Hall; the Wardens and their odd assortment of companions, now Champions of Redcliffe. It was the least he could do for saving his wife and son. He was proud of Alistair though he was careful to keep his expression neutral. The boy had grown into a fine young man and he didn’t miss the deep connection between him and the small woman with the eyes and hair. He was reminded of his own courtship of Isolde and knew better than to try and interfere. The last thing he wanted was to alienate the lad. He doubted Alistair fully understood why he was sent to the Chantry or his prior treatment. Before the Wardens left again he was determined to talk to Alistair and get to know his young lady.
 
“Loghain must be stopped while there is still a Ferelden left to save. I suggest we call a Landsmeet and challenge Loghain’s rule. However, if Teagan or I put forward a claim we will seem no less opportunistic. We need a stronger contender to the throne.”
 
Teagan raised an eyebrow in query, “Do you mean Alistair, brother?”
 
“Yes. Maric’s son has a stronger claim to the throne than Anora. Normally I wouldn’t suggest such a thing but this situation is not normal by any means.” Alistair started to say something but Eamon looked at him sternly, “Unless you prefer that Loghain remain regent.”
 
“No my lord, of course not,” Alistair replied in the only way he could but he wasn’t happy, simply resigned to the inevitable.
 
Eamon continued, “I will discreetly contact other members of the Bannorn. They may not be pleased with or agree with many of his actions but the darkspawn are the bigger and more immediate threat. They’ll keep an open mind but you need to show them you can provide a strong alternative before they’ll commit.  Come back here when you have the last of your treaties; I will have several messengers waiting to officially call the Landsmeet. What do you think, Warden?”
 
Blake’s smile held little amusement, more a wry understanding of the situation. “Well, as much as I would enjoy dealing with the bastard face to face I agree. We need to finish ratifying the Grey Warden treaties before we can take care of Loghain.”
 
“Loghain’s actions are already alienating some of the Bannorn, according to rumors we’ve heard. If he continues as he has been more and more are going to be unhappy. While we’re dealing with the treaties word of what he’s done to you will have a chance to spread, adding to his unpopularity,” Alistair added.
 
Eamon nodded approvingly, “It’s settled then. I know you wish to be on your way as soon as possible but please, stay a few days to rest, regroup and resupply. You’ll have few opportunities on the road. If you wish to use Redcliffe as a way station please avail yourself, Castle Redcliffe opens its doors to you. Take whatever you need.” As the group began to disperse he approached Alistair and Blake, “Alistair, if you don’t mind I’d like to speak to you privately for a moment. Do you mind waiting in my study?” Alistair hesitated but agreed. He took Jannasilane with him to wait. Eamon watched them go with some amusement before turning to Blake, “Warden, Blake, I wish to personally express my condolences to you. Bryce and Eleanor Cousland were not only personal friends but were true leaders among the Bannorn. Your father’s opinions were held in great respect among the Landsmeet and by Maric and Cailan even when they disagreed. I doubt many know of his role in negotiating agreements with other countries since he rarely took credit for himself or Highever, instead deferring to the Crown. The growing respect of Ferelden among other nations owes as much to your father as it does to Maric. He had a talent for making agreements which benefited Ferelden yet allowed the other party to think they had the better deal. After this is over you have my support in reclaiming Highever and searching for your brother.”
 
“Thank you, Arl Eamon,” Blake responded gravely. “It’s hard to think of Highever destroyed and Fergus dead or wandering somewhere in the Wilds. I don’t understand how we couldn’t see Howe for what he is.”
 
“Even the best of us have blind spots, young Cousland. When he was around your parents I never saw anything but congeniality.” Eamon sighed, “After his father’s death Rendon Howe fought with us against Orlais. It’s easy to see one’s comrades in war as friends in peace. Now I have to ask, was it belief in the cause or political expediency? I don’t know. He enjoys power; that much has always been obvious. Whatever festered all these years found its opportunity in the Blight and Loghain’s support for I sincerely doubt he would have dared attack Highever if he didn’t have the backing of someone equally powerful. He’s just not that bold. Or reckless.”
 
“Father did say Loghain was opposed to making treaties with other nations.”
 
“Loghain wants to believe that Ferelden can be completely self-sufficient and strong enough to withstand any attack. He’s afraid any treaties will reveal weakness and make us more prone to invasion than less. Your father and I disagreed with him more than once. We’re not hundreds of miles away from the nearest nation with impenetrable borders. It’s true we can’t be complacent but we also cannot be isolationists. But you have better things to do than listen to an old man rehash political arguments,” Eamon chuckled.
 
Blake smiled in return, “Actually you’ve helped put some things in context for me. Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace.” He nodded respectfully and walked away.
 
Eamon leisurely made his way to his study where Alistair waited. His shrewd gaze missed nothing as he glanced from one companion to another. “The Warden has certainly managed to collect one of the most eclectic groups of people I’ve ever encountered. It says much that he has managed to keep a certain amount of harmony among such a disparate group; diplomacy seems to run in the family,” he mused. He heard Alistair and the young woman, Jannasilane, talking and stopped outside his study to listen. He wanted a better sense of their relationship and here was an excellent opportunity. “Teagan speaks highly of her, highly enough to have proposed marriage. She’s an attractive little thing,” he thought to himself, “but that doesn’t mean Alistair is more than infatuated. Teagan thinks so but he is not always the best judge.”
 
“Blake gave me the dragon scale. Do you think the smith, Owen, can make dragon armor? I’d like a better set of medium armor, I’m comfortable with the plate but there are times when lighter is more practical. Medium dragon armor is better than some heavy armor and, judging by your leathers, easily enchanted so that it can provide even more protection. And it’s even easier to hold you in my arms,” he waggled his eyebrows jokingly.
 
Jannasilane did not smile as he expected, “You must not give up protection for something so trivial, my Ali. You are too important to risk. If you were hurt,” she shuddered at the thought.
 
Alistair became as serious as she was, “Don’t worry, my love, I’m not going to jeopardize my duty or you. But I don’t want another set of plate armor. I don’t know how much room I’ll have to maneuver in Orzammar or deeper in the forest when we look for the Dalish. It’s possible that the more cumbersome plate will get in the way and make me less effective. I won’t risk not being able to protect you or Blake or any of us.” He couldn’t resist adding, “holding you is just a bonus.”
 
“Do you think he could make it a deep green? That color would be most attractive on you,” she stroked his cheek, relieved that he wasn’t going to compromise his safety.
 
“I could ask,” he answered doubtfully. “You know, I’m so used to this massive plate I’m going to feel naked in medium armor.”
 
“Hmmm,” she smiled seductively, “I just had a picture of you in just your boots, sword and shield. Most desirable.”
 
Alistair choked. Outside in the hall Eamon bit his lip in order not to burst out laughing. Alistair recovered and nibbled her ear, “Wicked woman, tonight I’ll wear that if you promise to wear just this,” he pointed to her skirt, “this,” he touched her chestpiece, “and these,” he held up a pair of gold earrings. They were long heavy dangles with an intricate design of copper and silver and small sparkles of topaz. “I thought these would look pretty against your hair. The design is bold and complex but not as strong and beautiful as you.”
 
“They are lovely, Ali, but you shouldn’t have spent your coin on me,” she protested even as her fingers itched to try them on.
 
“We’ve been fortunate with some of the things we’ve found on the road. I asked Leliana to do the bargaining, nobody is better. But what are we fighting the darkspawn for if not to court a pretty girl, enjoy the camaraderie of friends in a tavern, or relax by the fire in our own homes? I love you, Jannasilane Alenahaella, and I rarely have the opportunity to give you anything that is not a necessity. I promise I won’t spoil you with lots of precious gems. Although, if I’m king I could find a way to shower you in jewels,” he said playfully. “That’s the only benefit I can see to the job.”
 
“Silly man,” her voice was tender, “I love you; I don’t need a pile of pretty rocks. Give them to Shale.”
 
Eamon heard nothing but silence for a few minutes. He thought about what he’d heard and so far approved of this mysterious young girl. She seemed to truly care for Alistair and to be a loyal sort. Loyalty seemed to be a trait hard to find in these times.
 
Alistair’s arms were loosely wrapped around his Janna, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I wonder why Eamon wants to see me instead of Blake.”
 
“Perhaps he wants to tell you how wonderful you are,” Jannasilane replied with a smile in her voice.
 
“You are closer to the truth than you realize, young lady.” Eamon’s eyes twinkled when she jumped, hitting her head on Alistair’s chin and causing him to bite his tongue. He knew they were wondering just how much he overheard and carefully schooled his features. “Would you excuse us, my dear? I wish to speak to Alistair privately.” He observed her look to her templar and get his nod before leaving them and shutting the door behind her. If he were a betting man he would bet she would be waiting no farther than the main hall.
 
For a few moments Eamon watched Alistair, noting the boy in the man and the man that boy had become. At first Alistair squirmed just like the little boy expecting a reprimand then he became calm and stared steadily back at Arl Eamon. Eamon nodded thoughtfully. “Your friend appears to be a nice, albeit unconventional, young lady. I trust you are not simply toying with her affections, Alistair. I know in wartime these things happen but she isn’t old enough to understand this.”
 
Alistair kept his temper but his eyes betrayed his anger, “Not that it’s any concern of yours but no, I am not toying with her. And yes, she is nice and generous and strong and even unconventional.” He blinked when Eamon smiled.
 
“I didn’t think you were, to be honest,” the Arl replied. “Your answer tells me much about the man you’ve become; loyal, confident, forthright and capable of self-control. I’m proud of you, Alistair.” He paused and let his words sink in. He didn’t miss the furrow creasing the younger man’s brow, “I spoke with Teagan. What you and Blake have accomplished thus far is remarkable, not least of which is finding the Urn. Thank you, for finding them and saving Connor and Isolde. I know you and she were never in accord; some would have found it easy to let her sacrifice herself.”
 
“Um, you’re welcome,” Alistair was uncomfortable with the tone of the conversation. He was more accustomed to people making fun of him or berating him; for Eamon to say that he was proud of him was beyond his imaginings.
 
“Alistair, now that you’re a man I think it’s time you understood why I made the decisions I did when you were young.”
 
The blonde warrior shrugged his shoulders, “My presence was inconvenient once you were married. She probably believed the rumors that you were my father,” only the slightest trace of resentment colored his voice. Maker, he’d hated the Chantry.
 
“You’re wrong.” Once again Eamon surprised Alistair. Ruefully the Arl admitted, “I won’t say that her antipathy wasn’t a small factor but that’s all it was. Perhaps we should have had this talk before now.” He sighed and thought how to begin, “When your father entrusted you to my care I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I had to protect the secret of your parentage while seeing to your welfare. The first couple of years were easy; I just needed to find a wet nurse who would be willing to look after you. Between Redcliffe and Rainesfere it wasn’t difficult to find a respectable, strong woman to take care of the orphaned child of one of my knights. A necessary lie,” he stated firmly. “By the time you were back in my care I had taken note of how other bastard children were treated. I did not want unnecessary attention drawn to you which might raise questions; even then you resembled your father if anyone looked closely enough. You could have been used as a pawn to embarrass Maric, even kidnapped.”
 
“So that’s why you consigned me sleep in the barn?” Alistair asked in disbelief.
 
“You were always warm and dry, with plenty of food to eat, weren’t you?” Eamon replied calmly. “If other nobles chose to think I was coddling my livestock, well I was eccentric. Certainly it could have nothing to do with a little stable boy. And of course I couldn’t allow my stable boy to run around in rags.”
 
Alistair thought about it. Grudgingly he spoke, “Clever. I didn’t really mind the barn but why did you have to send me off to the Chantry if not for Isolde?”
 
Eamon sighed, “I’m sorry you weren’t happy, lad but you needed an education. Revered Mother Hannah is a good soul and knows the Chant of Light but anything beyond basic math and reading is outside her capabilities. From the Chantry I received reports on your progress until you were conscripted by Duncan. I know you excelled in your studies and were dedicated in your arms training. I have a question for you, Alistair, if you weren’t happy why did you begin training to be a templar? Why didn’t you leave?”
 
“I didn’t know that was an option,” Alistair said slowly. “And then later . . . well it doesn’t matter now.” He sat back, deep in thought.
 
“That miserable ****, the Chantry was well compensated for your education and arms training! Before you began any serious Templar training you were to be given the option of continuing or returning here where I would help you find a more suitable career. There are opportunities for a strong and skilled young man,” Eamon fumed and didn’t notice that Alistair had turned white.
 
Straining to keep his voice even Alistair stood up, “You’ve given me much to think about, my lord, if you’ll excuse me . . .” he didn’t wait for a reply. He needed some air or something.
 
Eamon watched him go, concerned about the boy. “He must have been even unhappier than I realized. I should have kept a closer eye on him. Damn.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, “What’s done is done. I’ll give Alistair some time before talking to him again. No wonder he was so angry whenever I visited.”
 
Turmoil was the mildest way to describe Alistair’s thoughts. He didn’t know what to think, all this time . . . he saw Jannasilane sitting in the main hall talking to Teagan. He knew he wasn’t up to conversation so he slipped upstairs to their room where he could be alone to sort out his thoughts. He stood at the window and stared out, seeing his past rather than the courtyard. He almost didn’t hear the door opening when Jannasilane came in. One look at his face and she became angry, “If he hurt you I will tear out his beard. This I promise.”
 
Alistair bit back a laugh and hugged her as tightly as he could, “No, my feisty love, it’s just . . . I needed to think.” He sat down on the bed and pulled her down next to him. He took a deep breath and looked at her. Seeing the worry and love in her beautiful eyes settled him and he smiled. He traced her features with his fingers and told her everything that transpired in Eamon’s study. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset knowing he really did care for my welfare and I understand his decisions better. I’m glad he explained. But that the Revered Mother lied to me, or at least deceived me into thinking I didn’t have a choice . . . I didn’t have to suffer those last few years.” He rested his forehead on hers, “But then I might not have become a Grey Warden or met you. I can’t imagine a life without my Jannalove. Nor do I regret being a Grey Warden, it suits me.”
 
When she gently kissed him it felt like a benediction. She twined her fingers in his, “I can’t imagine life without you either, my Ali.” She sighed and the­y just sat content in each other’s company.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 46: Ambush Déjà Vu
 
“Do you have the impression the mountains don’t like us?” Alistair groused to Blake. “First Haven, now the road to Orzammar . . . some of these drifts are taller than Janna.”
 
Blake looked at the girl in question, “You and Zevran fall into them while she glides. Unless you pull her in when she tries to help you up,” the dark rogue was amused. He was waiting to see what form of revenge she planned. For himself he rather liked the red flush on Zevran’s cheeks, warming him up was one of the more enjoyable parts of the evening. “It’s nowhere near as bad as it was when we went to Haven; Package hasn’t even looked at her boots.”
 
“The way ahead is narrow; a path on the side of a mountain. We must go forward one by one,” Sten reported. It had been his turn to break through the snow for the rest of the party and he stamped his feet to dislodge some of the clinging snow.
 
“Then we go forward with Shale in front then me, Leliana, General Lee, Morrigan, Alistair, Zevran, Wynne, Jannasilane and you. I want at least three feet between each of us so if we slip and fall we’re less likely to bring anybody down with us.”
 
“The small female should go first,” Sten disagreed. “She is very fast and is able to move over the snow unlike any other I have seen. We might need that ability if something happens.”
 
“You’re thinking it might be a good place for an ambush,” Alistair sighed. “Gre-eat.”
 
“They’re not going to expect a golem, either,” Blake retorted. “You have a point, though; she can be directly behind Shale. She'll scramble right up that rocky back if she needs to." And so they proceeded. And were ambushed. Blake wished that once, just once, when somebody predicted bad things they didn’t happen.
 
While Shale and Leliana dealt long range damage Jannasilane slipped around the golem and dealt with the wolves and mabari streaking towards them over the snow. The others were now able to engage the attackers freely. Soon all but the leader lay dead in the red snow. “Stop, I'm done. This was supposed to be an easy job, kill the pretty redheaded girl and any she traveled with. Easy? Ha! I'll be lucky to get away with my life.”
 
“Kill the – you mean me?” Leliana practically squeaked in surprise.
 
“Very lucky. Now, who hired you to kill one of my companions?” Blake's voice was cold as the wintry air.
 
“Dunno, but I followed the bloke what contacted us and have an address,” he held it out to the Warden. “It's a house just off the marketplace in Denerim.”
 
“Information for your life, then, so be it.”
 
Jannasilane stared after the man and fingered her daggers, “I do not like this, my Warden. I do not like people threatening my friends.”
 
“So bloodthirsty, perhaps you should have been a Crow,” Zevran jested.
 
Blake ignored them, “Does this have something to do with Orlais?”
 
The bard shook her head, “No, it has to be Marjolaine. What I do not understand is why attack me now; next time we are in Denerim I would like to settle this.”
 
The Warden nodded, “I doubt it will take long. Now let's see if can get to Orzammar without any more trouble.”
 
A few days later and they almost made it. First bounty hunters tried to stop them when they were close and then a group of Loghain’s lackeys led by some pompous, self-important twit attacked them at the gateway to Orzammar. Once they were inside the Hall of Heroes they breathed sighs of relief and then stood in awe of the statues lining the passageway. "If I remember correctly these are statues of their Paragons, ancestors who did something particularly noteworthy," remarked Alistair.
 
“I do hope you aren’t harboring any hopes of achieving such status for yourself,” Morrigan didn’t resist the opening he gave her.
 
“Don’t worry, I have no desire to reach such heights if it means I’m too tall for my Jannasilane,” Alistair retorted, switching the witch’s words around. Morrigan raised an eyebrow in mock surprise at his cleverness.
 
Jannasilane put her hands on her hips and glared at her templar, “Then I shall just have to climb up on you.” She stamped her foot in irritation and walked off in a huff when he blushed and choked on his laughter. Zevran and Blake didn’t bother hiding their snickering at her words. Even Morrigan’s lips twitched in sly amusement.
 
“MiffMuffin makes her appearance,” Zevran jested. “If I were you I would worry about retaliation, my stalwart friend. Hopefully the results will not wake the rest of us as they did the last time she paid you for your transgressions. Though seeing you run outside in little but some very cold smallclothes was quite entertaining. A . . . exhilarating sight to be sure,” his words reminded the others of Jannasilane’s revenge for being constantly pulled into snowdrifts by Alistair. She had prepared a special snowball and waited until he was asleep before slipping it into the front of his smalls. His roar woke up the camp. The others were quite entertained by the sight of him dancing around the fire trying to dislodge the cold ball which seemed determined to make a home nestled against his favorite parts. “The Warden and I were quite inspired by the sight. That such a physique, such muscles are so often hidden under that armor should be a crime.”
 
Morrigan also recalled that night fondly, “I quite understand why she finds the fool so attractive. Even cold his ‘qualities’ were abundantly on display. And not one of them knows she approached me about enchanting a modest little snowball so that it could not be removed for a few minutes. A challenge because it couldn’t be too long or he might suspect magic was involved. If only that body wasn’t attached to that personality . . .”
 
“Maker,” Alistair shuddered at the memory. Of course afterwards when she offered to warm him up . . . a hot tongue and warm hands . . . well, maybe revenge wasn’t such a bad thing. As long as it remained private, of course. He glanced around. Just as the compass needle found north his gaze found Jannasilane.
 
“I don’t think Package expected Alistair to run for the fire but Zevran and I certainly enjoyed the show once we realized we weren’t under attack.” Blake watched Package examining one of the statues and being approached by a dwarf. He kept his eyes on her when he spoke, “I think this whole ‘defeat the Blight’ mission can be described in one word: circles. In the past few months we’ve travelled over the same roads more often than any but the most dedicated wandering merchant.”
 
“Yes, even the small jobs you have taken for coin seem to involve circular travel. If that scrawny human, Faryn, is telling the truth my sword is back in Redcliffe with that dwarf you convinced to fight.” Sten was resigned. As far as he was concerned their movements through Ferelden mirrored the reasoning of these humans. He was still surprised by how often they were successful despite their illogic.
 
A dwarf in cheap clothing approached Jannasilane at the statue of Paragon Bemo. He didn’t have any weapons she could see and he stopped well short of crowding her so she wasn’t alarmed. “Are you a human?” he asked respectfully. “I haven’t seen many and they were much taller. My name is Jernan and I am, or used to be, a respected scholar. I saw you come in with the Grey Wardens.”
 
Jannasilane tilted her head and sighed at the reference to her lack of height but quietly introduced herself. Soon they were engaged in an involved discussion about humans, dwarves and the current political situation both above and below the surface. “Blake, Ali, Mr. Jernan has been telling me much of what is happening,” she was over her huff and was now concerned instead. “My Wardens, you may find it difficult to get any help. The king’s death and the fight over his throne, it is tense. Without a king there is nobody who can authorize assistance.”
 
“Just Jernan, pleasure to meet you, Grey Wardens,” Jernan bowed slightly. “The Assembly probably could but they won’t. Between Lord Harrowmont and Prince Bhelen arguing over the throne the nobles are positioning themselves not just so their families will benefit but so they will survive. It’s not good to be on the wrong side. Dwarven memories are long, Wardens, as long as our traditions. And there is no such thing as a ‘small’ slight. On the surface perhaps but not in Orzammar.”
 
“Thank you, Jernan, but we must try. Maybe we can even help,” Blake smiled at the slight look of disgruntlement the dwarf tried to hide.
 
They entered Orzammar proper in time to see the deadly results of a confrontation between Harrowmont and Bhelen. “It is true then, dwarven politics are as much a blood sport as the Provings. I think we should tread carefully, Warden,” Leliana voiced concerns they all shared.
 
“Let’s see what people are saying. Maybe there’s a way we can get assistance without becoming embroiled in the political mess. If not we can at least be better informed. The market and tavern are good places to start,” Blake decided.
 
“I would suggest we all stay together, my dear Warden,” Zevran asserted softly, “none of us are familiar with Orzammar and its undercurrents or side streets. It would be a shame to miss any nuances which would change our understanding. I think we have already seen the potential results.”
 
Blake studied his lover carefully, “I wonder what is behind his words; he definitely does not want us to split up which I would ordinarily propose.” He nodded his head as if considering Zevran’s point, “I think that’s a good idea. Father said not even Orlesian politics were as labyrinthian. We’ll trade, listen and gather as much information and impressions as we can. We also need to find a place to spend the night. I don’t want to be locked out if they change their minds.”
 
“That shouldn’t be a problem for Janna and General Lee, the rest of us might have some challenges,” Alistair spoke wryly. He didn’t think Orzammar was likely to have any beds big enough, especially for him or Sten.
 
“Finally my lack of height is an advantage. Maybe we should spend many nights here,” Jannasilane’s eyes twinkled at the thought of her warrior trying to fit into a bed half his size.
 
“The mini it does have a perverse sense of humor,” Shale spoke up.
 
They strolled the Commons and spoke to guards, bartered with merchants and listened to gossip and rumors. Everywhere they went Jannasilane was the center of attention, even when the dwarves were speaking directly to the Wardens. Her short stature made her more approachable.
 
Jannasilane and Shale were discussing the merits of some crystals she found which the golem might be able to use. Hours later they’d been to several merchants, Tapsters Tavern, the Shaperate and Dust Town where they’d come across the book thief. Blake turned the late thief’s proving receipt over in his hands, “I think we should enter the Proving today on behalf of the Grey Wardens. We may even win though that would be a bonus.”
 
“I suppose we could do that,” Alistair said slowly. “While you were talking to the Shaper I was looking through some of their books on Grey Wardens. It’s been more than 300 years since the last time a Grey Warden took part in the Provings. Although the Warden involved was a dwarf and it was an honor proving about the purpose of the Order, still it wasn’t the first time either. It might be unusual but not unheard of. Certainly the Proving Master would be aware of the history. Should be fun.”
 
“Fun? Fighting and death are not something to be treated lightly, a source of amusement. I was also not aware we had much time to indulge ourselves in unnecessary frivolity,” rebuke registered in every word Sten uttered.
 
“It is not a fight to the death but a proof of skill,” Wynne corrected him. “But I agree we should not do this, Warden. Any one of you could be seriously injured. And even if it isn’t supposed to be to the death accidents do happen. We can’t risk losing one of the last two Wardens in Ferelden in a foolish game.”
 
“Three,” Jannasilane whispered, thinking of Riordan. Only Morrigan heard but didn’t say anything. She doubted the older Warden was still alive but if the toy wanted to comfort herself with futile hope she wasn’t going to disabuse her. The toy would find out soon enough.
 
Blake shook his head, “Most people seem to be treating the Blight as a triviality, at least when compared to the lack of a king. If the Ancestors prove they are behind us, which they will if we win even just the first few rounds, then Bhelen and Harrowmont can’t brush us aside. I suppose since they fight darkspawn all the time it isn’t a new concern for them; that one dwarf even said it was a break for them.”
 
“I overheard one of these dwarves in the Diamond Quarter moaning about her favorite jam being unavailable,” Shale interjected. “Perhaps I should have squished its silly little head.”
 
“Oh good, I can’t wait to see somebody pounding on the templar with sword, axe or mace. It should be quite entertaining.”
 
Alistair bowed sarcastically, “Thank you, Morrigan. Glad to be of service.” The witch smirked but said nothing more. Alistair studied Blake, “You do know that the dwarves respect Grey Wardens. We’re held in higher esteem here than on the surface; we don’t need to prove our relevance.”
 
“I wish I shared your optimism,” Blake responded. “No, I think we must enter the Proving. Some of you will need to be in the audience, listening and observing. Alistair, you’re with me, of course. And I think Shale and Sten. It won’t hurt to show we have a golem in our corner.”
 
“So I’m to be a prop, am I? Wonderful,” Shale sighed gustily. “I suppose you want me to stand around looking fierce and intimidating.”
 
“You are awfully pretty but you might get to fight. From what I’ve gathered the Proving has several rounds, from single combat to small squads. I thought you might enjoy the possibility of pounding on small, squishy creatures,” Blake eyed the golem consideringly, “if you prefer to just stand around . . .”
 
“If the Warden keeps making ridiculous comments it might find itself the one being squished,” Shale muttered.
 
Zevran leered, “Have no fear, my fine rock friend; I shall make sure the Warden is properly . . . chastised.” Their voices became indistinct as they strolled to the Proving arena.
 
Unbeknownst to them two members of the Carta were behind one of the criminal organization’s many false rocks and overheard their entire conversation. Once they were sure the Wardens’ group was all out of earshot they stepped out. The one with a full, scruffy beard looked at his scarred companion, “So the Grey Wardens want to play at being dwarfs. Jarvia will want to know this straight away.”
 
The other smiled crookedly through his scars, “Jarvia’s not the only one.” The two dwarves nodded at each other and slithered away.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 47: The Proving
 
It was dark, her head hurt and she found it difficult to concentrate so she didn’t realize at first that she was naked except for her small clothes. She blinked several times, rubbed her eyes, blinked some more and looked under the sheet covering her before carefully sitting up, “Where are my clothes, my daggers? Where am I and what happened?” She frowned, thinking hard even though it hurt. “We were in the Commons . . . Shale and I were debating the value of some crystals, then there was some sort of commotion. . . . I got separated and turned around . . . I lost my balance, or was I pushed? and hit my head. When I opened my eyes there was an old dwarven woman who helped me to her shop and gave me a cup of tea. She looked at my head and . . . next thing I remember is waking up here.” Gingerly she felt the back of her head and winced at the large sore spot.
 
She heard footsteps and quickly tucked the sheet around her. She was determined to show no more vulnerability than she could avoid. The old dwarva looked surprised to see her awake but smiled, displaying missing teeth, “Well, I guess that bump on your head wasn’t as bad as I feared. You were lucky, child. I was worried when you collapsed at my table. Wiltor helped me get you into bed. Don’t worry; I made sure he didn’t trespass on your modesty.” She chuckled and continued talking garrulously while Jannasilane watched warily. “I took your leathers to air ‘em out. You must have seen a bit of fighting. I’ve never seen armor like that, it’s not dwarven made as far as I can tell. Wiltor hasn’t seen your friends yet. I’m sure they’ll show up soon. How do you feel?” Her sharp eyes watched the girl carefully. Jarvia wanted her held until after the Proving and she couldn’t afford to get on the Carta’s bad side. The guards were too busy keeping the nobles from killing each other over politics to help protect the lower castes.
 
“My head hurts,” Jannasilane whispered hoarsely. She was afraid to admit that she was finding it hard to follow what the old woman was saying.
 
“Well, that was a nasty bump. I think all that hair protected you somewhat. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. I’ll go make some more tea. It’ll soothe your throat,” the old woman stepped back and nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned and bumped into Zevran.
 
“What else will it do?” he asked in a voice quiet with menace. The old woman staring at him lost all color and swayed on her feet. “Perhaps it will put her to sleep permanently?”
 
“You know the hardest part about the first two fights?” Blake was speaking quietly to Alistair while waiting for the current round to finish so he would know who he’d next face.
 
Alistair took his gaze from the Proving Master’s box and looked at his fellow Warden. He quirked an eyebrow and half-smiled through his worry, “Trying not to look like you’re simply toying with them before you finish them off?” He sighed, “Nobody has sent us a message. Maybe she wasn’t deliberately separated and taken from us even if it did feel that way.”
 
“Wishing on what has already happened is unproductive. Upon reflection it was quite clearly an orchestrated series of events as Leliana and the elf stated. They may be frivolous at times but they have the skills to find the small human,” Sten stated.
 
“The swamp witch’s decision to accompany them was not expected,” Shale rumbled.
 
“Next round is about to start. Underperforming is more tiring than you’d think,” Blake said with mock resignation. The others watched the fight, the audience, and the people milling around them in the wings. From what they’d gathered from some of the fans usually single rounds were first and then paired or squad events which meant Blake had to bear the brunt of the fighting until later.
 
It was good to see Gwiddon and Baizyl fighting. Blake didn’t like that some of Harrowmont’s fighters were being manipulated out of the Proving and he wondered if perhaps that explained Package’s disappearance. If so time was running out for any message to be delivered. It made more sense that somebody wanted to influence the outcome of the match than that they had a grudge against Grey Wardens or even them specifically. Alistair and Blake made it through the paired combat but it took awhile. Alistair played into the stereotype that big men weren’t especially fast or flexible. Fortunately he was strong enough to withstand the hits he took.
 
Blake made it into the final round, which was squad combat against Bhelen’s cousin, Piotin Aeducan. “Second man back, do you see it?” Blake asked very quietly as he appeared to be studying the crowd and Piotin.
 
“Janna’s lacings tied around his wrist? Oh I see it,” Alistair growled. “I think we just got our message.”
 
“We’ll stall as we have been, but keep an eye out for Zevran. If he brings Package we will let loose and pound these f*****s into the stone. If he doesn’t . . . I’m not going to let them win. But it will be a slow battle. Shale, concentrate on their archer. Keep him dancing but just miss hitting him until we give the word. Sten, be clever.” If Piotin’s men had been close enough to see Blake’s eyes they’d wish they were fighting darkspawn.
 
The crowd was immediately engaged. They expected Piotin’s team to quickly defeat the Warden in spite of his previous successes and were surprised when this didn’t happen. Many found it disconcerting that a golem was fighting against dwarves. As the match dragged on the crowd was actually starting to grow bored at the apparent stalemate when Alistair noticed activity in the Proving Master’s box. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Zevran and then Jannasilane in the box. He smiled. It was a slow smile totally without mirth. “Blake,” he called softly.
 
Blake looked up and his eyes softened with relief then hardened to cold steel, “Engage!” The Wardens moved quickly and gracefully in the arena. Alistair put all the rage he’d been holding into his war cry, stunning the three near dwarves into immobility. Shale began hitting the archer with pinpoint accuracy. If one of the Aeducan warriors got in the way a casual backhand cleared the path and left the warrior with a true understanding of what it meant to fight a golem. Sten was almost superfluous and contented himself with flanking the dancing Wardens and striking a blow whenever an opponent tried to circle around behind.
 
Wynne was fascinated by the Provings even though she didn’t approve of the Wardens’ participation. She sighed; she understood their reasoning but suspected their youth played a part. How many times she’d counseled young mages about being carried away in mock battles and the burns and other injuries she’d treated . . . she shook her head and chuckled. The Proving Master smiled to see her enjoying herself. Wynne watched Blake fighting and kept an ear out for Zevran and the others, “Maker watch over our young friend and may she be returned to us safely.” Her opinion of the relationship between the girl and Alistair was changing. If Jannasilane was returned she would be sure to apologize to Alistair for her previous advice. She turned around when Morrigan entered followed by the two rogues with Jannasilane supported between them. “Child! You’re positively green, what’s wrong?” She flared up her healing spells and listened to Leliana.
 
“We found her in a small, dark shop. She’s been hit on the head and drugged,” Leliana told Wynne everything while Wynne worked.
 
Jannasilane sighed and sagged against Zevran in relief. She nearly wept as the elder mage treated her head. She’d pressed her lips together in an effort to control the nausea as they rushed through Orzammar but it was a near thing. Once the effects of the drug were gone she stood up straight, “Thank you, Wynne, I feel much better now.”
 
“That is my cue,” Zevran smiled wickedly and dipped her low for a deep kiss. He was amused to see her flustered. “Didn’t I tell you that I would save my reward until you were feeling better?”
 
“You are a wicked man, Zevran Arainai,” she muttered, blushing.
 
“Which is why the Warden and I get along so well,” he playfully chucked his fingers under her chin.
 
Morrigan sneered, “I don’t think the Wardens would approve.”
 
Zevran leered playfully, “My dear Morrigan, the Warden would only be upset that he wasn’t first.”
 
“Alistair is a different story,” Leliana interjected lightly.
 
“Carry on then,” Morrigan replied regally.
 
“Children,” Wynne suppressed her amusement at their byplay, “the final match has begun and the Wardens are fighting. Do you wish to watch? By the way, child, now that your usual healthy color has returned that deep rose-pink dress is lovely on you.” She turned away to watch the match.
 
Eagerly Jannasilane joined her and watched. She was a bit surprised at the, well she could only call it desultory, way her Wardens were fighting. Then, as if her thoughts flipped some sort of switch, the squad changed tactics. She became mesmerized by Alistair’s movements, the grace and finesse which weren’t usually in play against the darkspawn. Her eyes widened when, with an elegant swing of his sword, he sliced off a good portion of one dwarf’s beard. In mere minutes the squad of Piotin Aeducan was lying senseless on the ground.
 
The crowd was silent in stunned disbelief then roared at the outcome. This was a Proving none of them would forget and would tell their children about. It was worthy of the Stone. While Sten, Shale and Alistair surrounded him Blake quickly knelt and removed Package’s lacings from the one dwarf’s wrist, “I wonder what he’ll think about the new shape to his beard,” he thought darkly. Gracefully he bowed to the Proving master when he was proclaimed victor, “It was the privilege of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens to honor the late King Endrin and our allies in Orzammar.” As they left the arena he was already planning his next moves, “We need to find some rooms. I suppose the tavern is our best bet. Alistair, did the Grey Wardens stay anywhere in particular?”
 
“Duncan said when he was here recruiting he was invited to stay at the palace. Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen for us. If Tapster’s doesn’t have any rooms maybe somebody can direct us to an empty store or something. Or the Shaper may know of a place.” When Alistair saw Jannasilane waiting for them he nearly stopped breathing, she was so beautiful and looked so young in that dress.
 
He started moving again when Blake elbowed him, “Package is looking none the worse for her recent adventure. Better close your mouth before you start drooling.” Behind them Sten snorted. Blake didn’t give his friends time to talk before he was herding them out of the Proving area and to Tapster’s. Fortunately the current embargo with the surface meant all the tavern’s few rooms were available. It wasn’t much and they would have to share but they could lock the common sitting area, affording them more privacy than they otherwise would have.
 
Jannasilane sat on a small sofa and began relacing her tunic while her Wardens and the others cleaned up. She thought about Zevran, the Carta, Blake, the old woman and her mother. She thought it was a shame that Owen, the Redcliffe smith, couldn’t work with the dragon scale. Orzammar was quite warm and her Ali was bound to get hot in his heavy armor. As if her thoughts conjured him he came out of their room dressed in simple linen breeches and shirt. He was smiling when he sat down next to her. He fingered her hair, enjoying the silkiness. “I was so worried about you. I’ll never be able to thank Zevran, Leliana and Morrigan enough for finding you.” He moved his hand and began massaging the back of her neck. He enjoyed the way she leaned back into him and purred her satisfaction. He kissed her brow, “you look so pretty and fresh in this dress, like a rose in the morning dew; I didn’t know you had it.”
 
“I didn’t,” she closed her eyes in pleasure, his fingers felt that good. “When we realized the lacings were gone Leliana searched for some other clothes. Most were brown or blue, but this reminded me of my mother. It’s the same color as the dress she was making for me before . . . before she was murdered. Even though the fichu is missing I wanted this one.”
 
“What’s a fichu?” Alistair placed a light kiss at the corner of her eye.
 
“It’s, ooh, that’s nice,” she moaned. “It’s like a delicate scarf to cover my breasts. I can change the look by using different fichus.”
 
“Gesundheit,” he teased. “I like looking at your breasts, and they’re mostly covered. I like thinking about sneaking my hand in there and caressing you.” He was fascinated to see her nipples hardening through the light fabric at his words. He itched to place his mouth there and nuzzle. Instead he shifted her so she was on his lap. The sensation was so much more intimate than when he had his armor on.
 
Jannasilane put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I have a confession to make, my Ali,” she murmured against his lips. “I am so used to wearing my leathers that I feel almost naked in this dress. Even the mage robes are thick, almost as thick as my armor.” She squirmed a little when she felt his manhood stirring underneath her. “I was dazzled watching you in the Proving. You were so graceful and pretty.”
 
“Pretty, was I?” he stopped any answer she might make by kissing her. He tightened his embrace, pressing her against him.
 
“Ugh!” Morrigan spat out the word, “the two of you are making me sick.”
 
“On the contrary, Morrigan, I find them quite inspiring,” Blake suited action to words and bent Zevran back for a sizzling kiss, which the assassin enjoyed returning. Zevran only chuckled when afterwards Blake plucked Jannasilane out of Alistair’s arms and whirled her around in the air. “Thank the Maker our friends found you, Package. We were quite concerned,” then he duplicated Zevran’s actions at the Proving.
 
“I told you he wouldn’t be upset, my dear Morrigan,” the assassin quipped. He did keep a wary eye on Alistair when the warrior stood and approached them.
 
“Morrigan, Zevran, I . . .” words failed him and he quickly pulled Morrigan into his arms for a hard kiss and then he did the same to Zevran, surprising them both. “Thank you for finding her and bringing her back. I don’t know how I can repay you, but I’ll think of something.”
 
“For a start don’t do that again, fool,” Morrigan snapped, hiding the fact she was flustered under an angry demeanor. She hadn’t expected her own response to the templar of all people.
 
Zevran grinned knowingly, “I, on the other hand, would not mind repetition with additions, oh handsome warrior.” He found Alistair’s actions pleasantly surprising, “He is certainly a man of great passion. I wonder if he would like some more practice . . .”
 
“Don’t I get a kiss, Alistair?” the pretty redhead teased. For answer Alistair picked her up in a bear hug and kissed her soundly. She had a pretty blush on her cheeks when he put her down.
 
Sten had been observing from the bedroom doorway, “What is the meaning of all this?” He managed to look both stern and confused.
 
Morrigan sidled up to him, “Is it giving you ideas, my dear Sten, of what it would be like . . . you and I together?” She merely smiled like an overfed cat when he rebuffed her.
 
Blake’s arm was over Zevran’s shoulders, “Now that everyone is in a good mood, more or less, time to get down to business. We are going to get something to eat and then speak to Dulin Forender, Lord Harrowmont’s man. Hopefully we can get an audience with his lordship. After what happened with Package,” he nodded to her where she was being loosely held by Alistair, “I think he is the more trustworthy. I am not going to directly antagonize Prince Bhelen in case he can still be useful, so there will be no payback. However, we need to be extra careful.”
 
Jannasilane frowned a little as she pondered his words. “But it was the Carta who separated me from the rest of you, not Bhelen or his men,” she stated.
 
“Yet it was one of Piotin Aeducan’s squad who had your lacings tied around his gauntlet,” Alistair answered, his eyes narrowing in remembered anger.

[QueenPurpleScrap]

Chapter 48: A Convenient Revenge
 
Blake hid his glee. There was no other word to better describe what he felt. “Lord Harrowmont, I don’t want any misunderstandings. You can’t promise us any troops unless you are pronounced King of Orzammar and right now the Assembly is deadlocked. The Carta has been increasingly aggressive in the power vacuum and if we, acting on your behalf, shut it down that will give you an advantage in the Assembly. Once you are king you will honor the treaty and we will have our troops.” Surreptitiously Alistair reached for Jannasilane’s hand when Blake mentioned the Carta.
 
“Succinctly put, Grey Warden. My respect for your order is great but I am unable to offer you the assistance you seek until I am crowned King of Orzammar,” replied Harrowmont. He was a dignified older gentleman who seemed sincerely unhappy to be able to give them no more than a conditional promise.
 
“Then we’re off to take care of the Carta,” Blake smiled sunnily. “Your lordship,” he bowed slightly, as to an equal.
 
Once they were out of the Diamond Quarter he rubbed his hands in satisfaction, “How marvelously convenient. Let’s head to Dust Town and kick some Carta ass.”
 
“Looking forward to it,” Alistair agreed, eyes filled with bloodlust and revenge.
 
“I almost feel sorry for them,” Leliana spoke up, getting their attention. “What choices do the Casteless have? Die in the Legion, go to the surface and leave everything they know behind, prostitute themselves, beg or turn to crime. Orzammar does not even recognize them as dwarves.”
 
“That’s . . . a fair point,” Alistair reluctantly conceded.
 
Zevran smiled, “My dear sweet Leliana, your compassion is charming. However I doubt it is the ‘reluctant criminals’ we will be seeking so you need not worry.”
 
“I don’t plan on leveling Dust Town, you know,” Blake said drily. “There’s a big difference between petty thievery and kidnapping. What do you think, Package, you’ve been the most wronged.”
 
“It is truth that the old woman in the shop is perhaps not always the most honest but her fear of the Carta was real. I do not think she wanted to be involved. And she was kind, as much as possible, I think. I remember she helped me clean my head and she brushed my hair while I drank the tea.”
 
“The drugged tea,” Morrigan reminded her impatiently.
 
“Yes, this I know, but she was gentle. She spent much time making sure not to hurt my head and her motions were soothing. Her gentleness was not necessary for the purposes of this Carta. I think the fright Zevran gave her was punishment enough. He was very scary,” Jannasilane concluded.
 
“Thank you, Pocket Goddess,” Zevran bowed over her hand and kissed her fingers just long enough to test Alistair’s patience.
 
Blake’s lips quirked, he couldn’t help it. “And you got a pretty dress out of it. Alright, Package, we’ll go after the leadership and the core of the Carta. The fringes we will leave alone unless they get in our way. I think I know where to start. Oh, and Package, try not to get lost among the dwarves this time.” Morrigan was not the only one who laughed.
 
Nedezda, former Carta member reduced to beggar, gave them what information she could for several silvers. She was one of the few who would say anything at all about the Carta. One group of dwarves confronted them in the tiny shack which was Dust Town’s version of a palace. Once they were dead or gone Blake looked around thoughtfully, “Were they really meant to deter us, I wonder?”
 
“It was rather easy to defeat them, was it not? Surely after your success in the Proving this criminal mastermind would have sent someone more effective?” Zevran suggested.
 
Alistair snorted, “Since we don’t know any other way to find her it looks like we have no other choice but to accept the ‘invitation’ so nicely delivered.”
 
“Yes.”
 
“I look forward to squishing their little heads like melons.”
 
“There are bound to be traps within traps. We must be wary.”
 
“Just be careful, Grey Wardens. The Carta’s warrens are bound to be extensive, even labyrinthian.”
 
“As I’ve said before, go after your enemies.”
 
“Grrrrrrrr.” General Lee was ready to sink his teeth into those who attacked one of his people. He’d hated being forced to wait on the sidelines while Blake was fighting.
 
Once they stepped inside the Carta compound they left all fringe elements behind. These were not reluctant thugs but experienced and deadly criminals. Mercenaries and mages from the surface supplemented their ranks. Jannasilane’s battle song echoed off the stone walls and gave the Wardens’ group a slight edge. Oddly, the dwarves were less affected than the surfacers, leading Wynne to wonder if there was a connection between that and their ability to handle lyrium. “I’ll have to remember to talk to the Wardens and Jannasilane about that later,” she noted to herself as she cast another healing spell.
 
Morrigan grit her teeth in frustration, “Here I am, a powerful mage, certainly more so than those idiots in the Carta, and even my strongest spells have a diluted impact against these dwarves. Hmm, if I concentrate on environmental spells . . .” she cast a pool of grease and set it on fire. “There, much better. I suppose the Warden knew what he was doing, insisting that all but the Circle cat and I become at least competent with a bow.”
 
Progress was slow. They had to get past locked doors and traps of both the physical and magical variety. Carefully they made their way through several winding tunnels and corridors, some connecting and some simply ending. Blake examined the area ahead of them, “I think we’re getting close to Jarvia. These doors are heavier with better locks than we’ve seen so far. I bet the boss lady is behind the middle one, so we’ll take out the supporters first. Left, right, middle,” he whispered.
 
“Ugh, spider guts,” Jannasilane grimaced after the one locked area turned out not to be empty as it first appeared. “At least this time I am not covered, but, eeuw, they do not wash off easily. Let us deal with this Jarvia so I can get to a bath.”
 
“And the smell . . .” Leliana shuddered in agreement.
 
Alistair sighed, “Let’s get this over with.”
 
“The door here is not locked. Is this a good sign or a bad one, I wonder,” Zevran mused.
 
Blake shrugged and smiled sardonically, “Only one way to find out.” He opened the door and they stepped inside. Jarvia waited for them and she was not alone. Blake’s next words wiped the arrogant smile off her face, “You’re looking awfully cocky for someone whose entire organization is gone.”
 
“You’ll pay for their deaths,” Jarvia snarled. She yelled at her men to attack, “but keep the little pretty one alive. I have plans for her.”
 
“Little? I’ll show you little!” Jannasilane yelled and gave forth a battle song fueled by indignation. She fought like one possessed. Zevran was busy disarming all the traps before one of his party could become ensnared and helpless. If he slid a poisoned blade into a back or two, well they shouldn’t have messed with the Wardens. Jarvia demonstrated how she rose to the top level in the Carta. She fought as well and as hard as any soldier Alistair had ever seen. Even Sten was impressed when she once managed to knock him to his knees.
 
Finally it was over but Jannasilane was still incensed. Hands on her hips she stared down at the still form of the Carta leader, “I am in Orzammar, surrounded by dwarves and she calls me little?” She kicked the woman in annoyance.
 
At first the others just stared at her, and then Leliana started to giggle. When the bard burst out laughing Blake and Zevran joined her, then Morrigan and even Wynne. Sten permitted himself a small smile. When Jannasilane glared at them they just laughed harder. Shale’s rumbling and General Lee’s barks added to the symphony.
 
Alistair struggled not to chuckle as he approached her, “My love, I think she just meant in comparison to the rest of us to identify you to her men. After all, if she had just said ‘the pretty one’ she might have meant me.”
 
Jannasilane looked at him and sniffed, “Humph, perhaps,” but she took his proffered hand and said no more.
 
They found another door which led to an upwards sloping tunnel. Hoping it led back to the Commons they followed it. None of them really wanted to retrace their steps back to Dust Town. They moved some rocks which were loosely piled at the end and pushed through a panel. “My store! What have you . . . you put a hole in my wall,” a startled merchant cried in dismay. Blake’s explanation didn’t make him feel any better, the dwarf, Janar, just put his head in his hands and asked them to leave. He got a whiff of Jannasilane and gagged, “You might want to get some Rockbinder’s Brew. They sell it at Tapster’s. It works pretty well to get rid of spider remains; one pass with the ale before cleaning. The apothecary behind Figor’s Imports might have something else.” He stared sadly at the wall of his store, “If word of this gets out . . .”
 
“Leliana, you and Wynne will come with me. The rest of you are too . . . fragrant to call on Lord Harrowmont,” he gestured loosely. “Well, you aren’t,” he spoke directly to Morrigan, “but somebody needs to actually go inside the apothecary shop. I’ll report, we all get cleaned up, we leave.”
 
Blake was silent on the way back to Tapster’s. “I never should have said we’ll be leaving Orzammar. Or maybe I should have been more specific . . . the Deep Roads. I hope we’re ready,” he thought grimly. They didn’t say anything but he could tell Leliana and Wynne were concerned. In the back of the tavern he saw Morrigan and Sten. The witch was smiling to herself and Sten appeared disgruntled. When he got closer he saw General Lee under the table with his paws over muzzle as if he were trying to hide. “What now?” Noticeably absent were Package, Alistair and Zevran. He assumed Shale was avoiding the drunks in the tavern. “What’s wrong?” he demanded. Morrigan’s smile became tinged with malice but she said nothing, though she did glance in the direction of their rooms.
 
Sten frowned, “I think you will understand soon enough. It is one of the more disturbing things I have experienced since Lothering.” Under the table General Lee whined.
 
Blake exchanged glances with the two women next to him. As soon as he opened the door to the rooms Shale glared(?) at him, “Finally. It has returned. I shall now leave for the sanity of the taproom.”
 
Leliana put her hands over her ears, “What is that noise?” she complained.
 
“I think,” Wynne blinked in surprise, “I think that’s Alistair. And he’s singing?”
 
“Right you are, dear lady,” Zevran appeared smiling, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Warden, I regret to inform you there will be a slight delay to your plans.”
 
“Do I want to know what happened?”
 
Zevran chuckled even as he grimaced at Alistair’s off-key and inaccurate rendition of what might have been a romantic ballad. “The Rockbinder’s Brew worked as advertised. The spider remains on blades and weapons? All gone. The apothecary did have something for the skin, but it only works for light contact. He suggested using the ale, quickly rinsing, and then finishing with his solution. The rest of us did as he suggested and are pleasantly clean and aromatic. Alistair . . . well, he is making up for his many years in the Chantry.”
 
Blake relaxed and grinned, “Go on.”
 
“As you will recall the beautiful pocket goddess received the bulk of the spiders’ attentions both before and after their demise. The ale needed to cover quite a bit of her smooth skin. Well, Alistair was already out of his armor and decided to take advantage of their mutual lack of attire to taste ale-flavored Pocket Goddess before she rinsed.”
 
“But dwarven ale is so very strong,” Leliana giggled.
 
Wynne smiled, “And Alistair does not have a lot of practice with alcoholic beverages.”
 
Zevran bowed, “You are both quite correct. Although I am sure it was more than a kiss or two. I believe they may even have partaken of a small glass. The first I knew something was wrong was when Pocket Goddess started to yell at him, telling him she was not a bird. Naturally I opened the door to come to her assistance; dealing with drunks sometimes needs a bit of skill. He was teasing her, telling her that since she was so little she could surely perch on his manhood like a bird. I believe he specifically mentioned a sparrow.”
 
“He didn’t.”
 
“I don’t believe you.”
 
“It is the truth, I swear on my honor as an Antivan and former Crow. To continue, I successfully managed to get Alistair’s attention and he stopped what he was doing to pick her up in his arms. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘it’s . . . Hi Zev. Blake thinks he’s pretty, don’t you think he’s pretty, Janna? Though not as pretty as you.’ At which point he proceed to . . . well I suppose he thinks he is serenading her though his musical selections appear to veer between the romantic and the surprisingly bawdy. I did not think he knew such songs.  Pocket Goddess was in no danger and I thought it best to retreat but remain available, after removing all sharp and breakable objects. And now you are here.”
 
Blake was laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes. “If you ladies would fill in the rest of the group I will join you later. Zev, my pretty lover, you better come in with me. I might need help.” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated motion.
 
Leliana and Wynne were left staring at the door after Blake quickly pushed Zevran inside and locked the door, “I do not know if I am glad or sorry that I didn’t get to see Alistair drunk.”
 
“Now I know why Morrigan was smiling,” Wynne shook her head while contemplating what spells or potions would be the best cure for the hangovers the two inside would undoubtedly have.
 
Blake and Zevran leaned against the door with arms crossed taking in the scene in front of them. Alistair was still singing, a bit more quietly and rocking back and forth on his feet. His back was to the door. Package was in his arms, her head on his shoulders and he was stroking her hair. Her hands were behind his head and moving to music, just not the same music. Blake and Zevran took a moment to enjoy the view of such a well-made man. “He’s not as pretty as you are,” Blake whispered quietly.
 
“You know, my dear Warden, in my line of work I sometimes need to alter my appearance. If I were an evil man I would suggest now is a good time to give one of those firm cheeks a small tattoo. I may have some hair and skin dye of the temporary variety . . .” Zevran answered just as quietly, eyes twinkling with mischief.
 
Blake grinned in response, “Tempting, very tempting. Ah well,” he cleared his throat, “I’m back from Lord Harrowmont.”
 
Alistair slowly whirled around a bit unsteadily. The two rogues leapt forward ready to catch the woman in his arms if the big man lost control but he held on. “Jannashilane, my love. He’sh back, Blake ish back.”
 
“I don’t see him,” she complained, her voice slurred.
 
“That’sh cuzh you, you’re drunk,” he answered.
 
“Mmmm, thish ish truth, how . . .” she rested her head back on Alistair’s shoulder without finishing her sentence.
 
Very carefully, very slowly Alistair stopped rocking and started moving, “Gotta . . . gotta put my shweet Janna to bed. Musht . . . lie . . . down now.” With the deliberation of the very drunk he laid his beloved on the bed and crawled next to her. “G’night,” he muttered, “Glad . . . meeting went . . . well.”