#tell me about the gryphons wynne

[shanaraharlyah]

I got an armored griffon mount and finally some armor I like the design of (I miss the elemental evil armor sets) last night in Neverwinter. Saro is really starting to look like a Grey Warden (but with antlers apparently, because why not).

[devsash]

Unexpected Meetings - Part 2

A collaboration with @tindomielsilverthorn

(Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7)

Stormwind city, mid-day

The flight was, to Tindomiel’s mind, far too short. The gryphons took a sharp turn, looped, and landed in the city roost. Tindomiel slid from the saddle and moved to the front of the large creature. She laid her brow against its beak, whispering her thanks. Taking a few steps forward to make room, she waited for Mehe. Her body was once again slightly rigid as she shifted her bags and skins into position.

Mehe's gryphon landed smartly behind Tindomiel's. He climbed off and lightly touched those soft feathers one last time before turning to the Kaldorei woman. Noting her tense posture, he deigned to comment on it and instead inclined his head. "Thank you for the ride. Shall we?" He gestured towards the city.

“Yes, please. Where is his shop?” she asked. She very much hoped it would be somewhere away from the crowds. Although, that would likely draw less business. Shaking it off, she stepped towards the exit.

"He works with Larson Clothiers in the Mage Quarter." Mehe set a brisk pace towards their destination, keeping his head down. His watchful eyes slid from person to person, silently analysing the state of their clothes, weapons and where they kept their money bags.

Tindomiel stopped suddenly. “Did you say Larson’s?” She seemed genuinely shocked.

Mehe stopped as well. "Yes. Why?"

“That’s where little Niquisse found a job recently.” What a coincidence, she thought. I wonder if they know each other.

Mehe's eyes narrowed. "Who is this Niquisse?" Anas had not mentioned her. To be fair, Mehe rarely stayed to watch Anas work in the shop. He preferred not to be underfoot.

“She’s a sweet, young Ren’dorei girl. She’s engaged to be married to my nephew.” She smiled happily at the idea. That meant the young one had at least one kind person working with her.

Mehe's expression darkened. A Ren'dorei? With Anas? He whirled around and bolted in the direction of the shop, not waiting to see if his companion followed.

“Mehe! Wait! What...” Tindomiel quickened her pace, unsure what she’d said wrong. But it was clear that he was angry.

Mehe ignored her call somewhere behind him. He whipped past startled faces, anger and worry for his mate coursing through his veins. Tindomiel threw down her bag and skins, running behind him. She was unsure what he might do, but she had every intention to prevent a fight if she was able. The trail of confusion, anger, and fear he left in his wake slammed against her like waves, but she pushed them back with every ounce of her energy.

Mehe's feet found the grassy ground of the Mage Quarter. The shop would be visible just around the corner. He put on a burst of speed, reaching the clearing in the middle of the quarter and finally glimpsing the shop. Tindomiel lost sight of the man as he sped ahead of her. People stopping in the lane to talk about the Ren'dorei bolting through blocked her path.

Mehe spotted Anas's familiar figure at the entrance to the shop. His hand was raised, an easy smile on his lips as he waved at the retreating back of a customer. And beside him...

Oh, Light damn it all.

Mehe stepped determinedly towards his mate and the Ren'dorei girl.

Niquisse smiled up at Anas. “I think she’s really pleased with how the gown turned...who is that?” She indicated towards Mehe. “He looks angry.” She slowly stepped backward into the shop.

Anas glanced at her, then in the direction she was pointing. He blinked at Mehe's thunderous expression. "Mehe, what--?" He broke off as Mehe grabbed his arm, yanking him out into the open.

"Why didn't you tell me there's a Ren'dorei working here?" he hissed, shooting a glare at Niquisse over his shoulder.

Niquisse tried to back away, stumbling over a bolt of fabric that was leaning against the counter. "Please, Sir...I don't know what I have done. I just work here!" Her eyes were wide, darting back and forth looking for a way out.

Mehe regarded her with undisguised disdain.

Anas raised his hands placatingly. "Mehe, it's okay. She's a nice person--"

"The Ren'dorei are a whole bloody lot of liars," Mehe snapped, his tendrils roiling as he turned his gaze on his mate. "They're not to be trusted!"

Niquisse's tendrils curled in on themselves, matching her body language. "I don't!...Please, I wouldn't!"

Tindomiel, finally catching up, stopped at the bottom of the ramp. She tried to figure out exactly what is going on. Seeing Niquisse shrinking back, she pushed past Mehe to comfort the girl.

Anas winced. He drew Mehe farther away from Niquisse, stepping between them to block Mehe from view. "Stop it, Mehe. The poor girl's terrified out of her wits," he said in a low voice.

Tindomiel wrapped her arms around Niquisse gently. “Ssshhhhh, it’s all right,” She whispered. “Mehe, please. I don’t know what you’ve experienced. But Niquisse is a sweet girl. She’s scared now and she’s done nothing to deserve this. Please!” Tears were already rolling down Tindomiel’s cheeks as she fought off the undertow of emotions threatening to pull her under.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to react like this," Anas said quietly. "Niquisse does excellent work here. She's never threatened or hurt anyone." He lowered his voice further. "Please, my love. Stop this. I don't want to lose my job here."

Mehe glanced at Tindomiel, the heat of his fury diminishing at the sight of her tearful face. His gaze slid back to Anas. "You should've bloody told me," he said coldly before turning on his heel and stalking off in the direction of Lion's Rest, equal parts angered and hurt.

Niquisse sank down to the floor, looking a mix of stunned and terrified.

Tindomiel sat with her, looking up at the Kaldorei man. “You must be his mate. I am sorry to meet you this way. This was my fault. Please, forgive me. I didn’t realize.” She gently stroked Niquisse’s arm as she spoke is soft tones. She had really mucked that whole thing up. Why was this Ren’dorei so hostile to others? What had happened to the man?

Anas absently raked a hand through his mane of midnight blue hair, the corners of his lips turned down slightly with regret as he peered after Mehe. "It's my fault, milady, not yours. I should've told him about Niquisse ages ago when I had the chance." He stepped closer and knelt before the two women, offering Tindomiel a handkerchief as he regarded Niquisse apologetically. "I'm so sorry, Niqi. Mehe isn't fond of other Ren'dorei. It's why I didn't want to bring up the subject with him in the first place.”

Tindomiel wiped off her face. “Thank you. Although somehow I suspect once he learned, he would have reacted much the same.” Taking a slow, even breath, she gently brushed a lock of sapphire hair from Niqi’s face. The younger woman was calming down and some of her usually fire returned.

Niquisse’s face scrunched up. “I’ve never met him before! Why would he call me a liar? That’s not who I am. Anas, you know that! I even got in trouble for telling that lady the other day why her dress wouldn’t close. The real reason.” She looked up at him searchingly. “Why does he hate us? He’s one of us...”

Anas sighed. "It's quite a long story. Why don't we get ourselves some nice, calming tea at the Recluse and I'll tell you about it? It'll be my treat." He rubbed his forehead tiredly. "It's the least I can do after what happened."

“That won’t cause you any trouble will it? Leaving work like this? I don’t want you two to lose your jobs.” Tindomiel asked. She looked genuinely concerned. “I will go.” Niquisse said softly. She liked working with Anas. And she very much wanted to know why this Mehe disliked her so much.

Anas smiled at Niquisse, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's usually slow going at this time of day so we should be fine, I think. I'll ask Wynne to spare us for a bit. Elune knows I could do with some tea myself." He ducked back into the shop to converse with the woman standing behind the counter. She shot Niquisse a concerned look before nodding. Anas rejoined them a moment later. "Short break," he said to Niquisse before looking at Tindomiel. "Shall we, milady?"

Niquisse smiles sheepishly at Wynne. “She’s probably regretting taking me on now. I’m going to have to work extra hard to prove to her that I should stay.” She stood and took off her work apron, hanging it by the door. Smoothing out her blouse, she nodded.

Tindomiel pushed herself up off the floor. Noticing the pins on Niqi’s apron, she grabbed one and used it to close up the tear in her pants. “Would you mind if I meet you over there? I dropped my things to chase behind Mehe. I should go gather them up.”

"Do you need help, milady?" Anas asked, concerned.

Wearily, she shook her head. “I’ll be all right. It shouldn’t take me long at all.” Niquisse placed her hand gently onto the older woman’s arm. “Let us help you, Lady Tindomiel. Please. If it won’t take long alone, it’ll be easier if we help.”

Tindomiel shook her head. She stood thinking a moment before a little grin appeared on her face. “You know what? I have a better idea.” She turned to the young boy standing in the corner. Holding out a single gold coin, she smiled at him. “Will you go find a blue wool bag and a stack of wolf skins for me? I dropped them near the bridge to the trade district. Bring them back here and I will collect them later.”

The child’s eyes lit up. He grabbed the coin and dashed out the door.

“Let’s go have some tea.”

Anas nodded before leading them towards the Recluse. Stepping inside the welcoming warmth of the tavern, he pointed at a nearby unoccupied table some distance away from the rest. "Get a seat, I'll get our tea," he said before striding off to the bar. Tindomiel bowed her head and the two women moved to the table. The Kaldorei woman positioned herself in the seat furthest from the other patrons.  She sank down into the chair with a heavy sigh. She felt entirely guilty for creating this mess.

“Lady Tindomiel? Are you all right?” Niqi looked worried.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just been a trying day for me. Too many strong emotions at once.”

Anas returned to the table, carefully balancing a tray bearing a teapot and three teacups. He sat down and began pouring the tea out. "Here you go," he said, handing Tindomiel and Niquisse a cup each.

They nodded their thanks. Tindomiel watched the man carefully. “Thank you. Forgive me. I did not introduce myself. Tindomiel Silverthorn. I am glad to meet you, though I do wish it had been a bit calmer at the start.”

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Silverthorn. I'm Reianas Starmane, but you can call me Anas." He offered her a kind smile before sipping his tea.

“All right, Anas it is. But only if you call me Tindo. Same goes for you, dear.” She looked at Niquisse pointedly.

Niqi shook her head. “Gilræn would be very disappointed with me if I did not afford the Consort proper respect.”

Tindo sighed, but smiled. “As you wish.” She spoke gently, “So why was he so angry? He was very hurt too, Anas. Truth be told, it felt almost like the two emotions were warring within him. He wanted to just be angry, but the hurt won out.” She added a touch of honey to her cup.

Anas swirled the tea in his cup contemplatively. "I'm not sure where to begin, really, but it has to do with how he fell in with Umbric and his followers."

Tindomiel tipped her head to the side. “Did he trust them at first?” She sipped her tea, nodding in approval at the flavour choice.

Anas shook his head wearily. "Mehe isn't the type who trusts easily. He was in search of some information about his past and they promised to help him find it by piecing together what glimpses they could gather from contemplating the Void."

“Does he not know of his own past?” Niquisse piped. “How can they see it in the Void? Is that something I could learn?”

Tindomiel raised a hand to her lips, stifling a laugh. “Slow down, Niqi. I don’t think Anas knows those details. Let’s stick with Mehe’s story.” She gestured to Anas to continue. “So I gather they did not make good on promise?”

Anas shook his head. "Nothing beyond a few tidbits here and there, enough to keep him desperate for more. It seemed they were more interested in studying his skill with the Shadow than actually helping him though." He sighed, taking another sip.

Niqi sighed quietly. She took several sips from her cup. “Then things happened and now we are what we are.”

"Yes." Anas glanced at her. "Mehe's really angry about it. He blames the Ren'dorei for his predicament." He sighed again, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid he's finding it hard to adjust to life here in Stormwind. He still misses Quel’thalas very much."

Tindomiel sat back, listening. She wasn’t sure what to add, as she had so little information on the Ren’dorei and their situation.

Niqi whispered, “It wasn’t our fault. Most of us were victims in this.”

"I understand." Anas leaned back in his chair. "Mehe wasn't very long with Umbric and he's not exactly the type who likes to mingle. He hardly knows the rest of you or your reasons for ending up with that man. It's why he sees all Ren'dorei the same way."

“And he...he lives with you? Above the shop?” Niqi’s ears started to droop.

Anas nodded. "Mehe hates Telogrus Rift. He misses the light and peace of the Eversong Woods and the Rift has neither."

Tindomiel perked up slightly. “I have a suggestion, if you think he might be willing.”

Anas's ears twitched. "Let's hear it," he said. "I'm open to any ideas that could help him."

“My husband and I own a farm on Pandaria. Open air, sunlight, peace. The plants and trees bear similar hues to Eversong. And we have a guest house. You may bring him there, if you wish,” she offered.

Anas blinked at that. "Milad--I mean, Tindo. You... actually mean that?"

She smiled wearily. “Would it help?”

"I... think it might, actually." Anas's brow furrowed. "But I don't wish to trouble you or your husband."

Chuckling, she shook her head. “It would be a pleasure.” She pointed at the pencil over his ear. “May I borrow that?”

Anas plucked the pencil from behind his ear and handed it over, still reeling from disbelief.

She wrote down an address on a scrap of paper. “Write me here, in Halfhill, if you wish to come. I will make sure everything is ready for you. There is a small staff, but otherwise it is very quiet. I would imagine that would ease some of his anxiety.” She regarded the man seated across from her. “I have surprised you. Well, this is my nature, Anas. I help people. Especially those that need it more than they might admit.”

Niquisse fidgeted in her chair. She was staring into her cup, whispering to herself.

Anas peered at the address written on the paper. "It's... it's really generous of you, Tindo, but we couldn't just live there without paying rent or something. And my work..." He trailed off, glancing at Niquisse in concern. "Is everything okay, Niqi?"

Niqi head snapped up at the sound of her name. She shook her head, trying to clear away the whispers. “I was just...I was thinking I should find a different shop to work in. I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you.” The hurt was evident in her voice.

"It's not your fault," Anas said kindly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Mehe and I will work it out somehow."

“Still. I’ll put in my notice. I can find work elsewhere.” She started to stand when Tindomiel pulled her back down into her chair.

“I don’t think that’s the right choice.” Tindo turned to Anas. “Think of the guest house as a vacation spot. Come whenever he needs it. You can pay me back, if you feel it necessary, with one of your lovely gowns.”

Anas bowed. "Thank you so much for your offer. I'll discuss it with Mehe. Might be just the thing he needs to get away from Stormwind for a short while." He looked at Niqi. "Mehe once taught me a way to keep the whispers at bay by focusing on the breath." He placed a hand on his chest. "As you inhale, slowly count to three. As you exhale, slowly count to five. Do it until your mind is centered only on your breathing and the whispers will retreat."

Niquisse looked up at him, confused. “How did you know?” Her voice was soft, almost embarrassed. “Is it because of the shadows within you?” She covered her mouth suddenly. That was rude, she thought to herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Anas shook his head, smiling reassuringly. "It's okay, you're not wrong." He poured himself more tea from the pot.

Niquisse’s ears raised back up just a bit. “So you’ve always known? And you still speak to me?”

"The Ren'dorei are more vulnerable than most to the whispers." Anas took another sip. "Mehe is skilled enough that he's able to keep them at bay though. He's the one who taught me."

Niquisse sat back and closed her eyes. She started taking slow breaths in and out. Tindomiel nodded her approval. “Thank you for that. That was very kind of you.” She looked out the door, sipping her tea thoughtfully. “I should go find Mehe and apologise.” She pushed her chair back with the intention of finding the man.

"I should go with you, but Niqi and I will have to get back to work in a bit." Anas sighed before draining the last of the tea in his cup.

“Any advice for me?” Tindomiel asked, unsure if he would even have any to offer. She looked once again at the young Ren’dorei. She was calming down to an even level finally. Tindomiel returned her attention to Anas. “You keep yourself very level, despite the mayhem around you. It’s admirable.”

"I'm barely keeping it together as is. Thank Elune for this short break." Anas smiled wearily. "As for advice, try to be patient with him. Mehe tends to shut down when he's upset, so he might not even talk to you. Don't take it personally."

“May I help a little? You, I mean.” She placed her hand, palm up on the table.

Anas glanced at her hand quizzically. "Help me how?"

“Give me your hand.”

Anas did as he was bid, still confused.

Tindomiel’s hand slowly began to glow. Pure silver and golden light wrapped around her fingers and up into his hand. Gentle soothing energy, calming but invigorating at the same time.

Anas sighed in relief. He peered at her. "You're a priestess," he murmured in realisation.

"I am," she replied gently. "Was it the clothes that threw you off?"

"Sort of." Anas glanced down, attempting to quell the sudden sadness in the back of his throat. "Thank you," he said softly before glancing at Niquisse. "We should probably get back, Niqi."

Tindomiel lowered her head, a pang of guilt coursing through her. "I am sorry if I did wrong. It seems my every attempt today is going a little sideways." She rose from her seat and bowed to him. "I will seek out Mehe and hopefully make amends. Be safe, both of you."

Anas shook his head. "You did nothing wrong. I used to be a priest myself and it just reminded me of those days." He gave her a comforting though somewhat sad smile. "When you find him, please tell him I'm sorry."

“I will do my best.” She inclines her head. “For what it’s worth, you seem like the right type of person to be a priest. Whatever caused you to break from it, know that Elune still sees your actions. And you make her proud.” She turned and walked towards the door.

"Elune be with you, Tindo." Anas glanced at Niqi. "Ready to get back to work?"

Niquisse smiled, nodding. “I don’t have much left on that hemming order. Will you let me look through your sketchbook some more?”

Anas chuckled, standing. "You know you're always welcome to it."

“Anas?” She sounded nervous.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow at her, concerned. "Are you okay, little one?"

“If he is still angry, you will tell me, won’t you?” She stood, though with her tiny stature, it didn’t make much difference in her height. “Because I can find another place to work. I don’t want to make things hard for you.”

Anas smiled gently. "Mehe will be okay. Whether he likes it or not, the other Ren'dorei are our allies now and they're here to stay. Perhaps he needs to see they're not what he assumes them to be."

She bobbed her head. “I’ll do what I can to let him see.” She smiled as she moved to the door. “I’m gonna make him a new shirt. Something comfortable to wear on your vacation.”

"That's a good idea!" Anas beamed encouragingly. "Thank you for that, Niqi."

She smiled most of the way back to the shop. As she pulled her work apron back on, she blinked suddenly. “You have his measurements, right?”

He chuckled. "In here!" he said, tapping the side of his head and giving her a wink.

Smiling, she gathered up a gown onto the work table and starting pinning up the hem.

[sarcasmfish]

Nightmare’s Bite

The Warden finds herself in the midst of a rather violent archdemon dream.  When she wakes it’s Alistair she turns to for comfort.

Alistair x Warden Surana (pre-relationship)

I’ve been sitting on this one for quite a while because I thought it was waaaay too indulgent, but dangit, I’ve grown to like it... so here it is.

Or read it here on AO3

She stood at the peak of a steep valley, peering down below her.  Masses of Darkspawn swirled below and filled every space between the two walls. Even the sides of the cliff seemed to writhe with them.  They lined the bare rocks like fur on the back of a Mabari.  Some even attempted to scale the precarious rocks around them.

Despite better sense she found herself creeping closer to the edge, drawn by some unseen force.  Down in the middle of the horde she could make out something different, something not rotting and seething with the Blight. It glinted with clean steel.  The sun above her was dying, orange and weak, but she could make out a shield.  Alistair. With widening eyes she began to notice the distinct color of his hair, the blue and white gryphon pattern sprawling across the face of his shield, and the familiar movements of his sword.

There were hundreds of Darkspawn pressing in on him.  They reached for him, pawed at him with oily hands, their claws marring his armor. They pushed and thrashed against him, pinning his sword and shield against his body where they became useless no matter the effort and strength he poured into repelling them back.  They were pressed so thick he was struggling just to lift his sword and shield to defend himself.

She threw out her hand to cast a barrier over him, but nothing happened.  She struggled to find the thread of magic within her but it was dark and full of droning whispers.  The longer she searched, the louder the whispers grew, the more pressing and urgent they became.  They called to her, coaxed her, bid her come closer.  They lulled and sang and made promises like demons across the Veil.

She shook the thoughts away. Alistair fought on below her, disappearing a moment as the Darkspawn surged against him.

There was a ledge that wound its way down into the valley.  It was narrow with few handholds, but was the only way to traverse down short of falling.  She scrambled to reach him, to be of some help.

The path was dangerous, the cliff face crumbling and corroding beneath her as she stepped with as much haste as the treacherous ground would allow.  It was hundreds of feet to the bottom.  Rocks splintered beneath her feet, making her slip and fall in her urgency to descend down to where the Warden fought.  She caught herself on bloodying hands and knees, but pushed herself up and forward each time.

Above her a shadow darkened the sky.  A great dragon soared over the opening in the valley, blotting out the sky above and casting a cold shadow over everything below.  It was not the dragon of fairy tales, with gleaming green and iridescent scales, but a dragon of nightmare.  The creature was mostly bone and where skin remained it was leathery and peeled away like armor that had seen too much sun.  Beneath lay rotting bones that protruded in unnatural ways. The whole beast seemed held together by cottony webs, sticky puss, and perverse shadows that shimmied under her gaze.

There were hundreds of Darkspawn below, but she felt the beast’s eyes fall upon her alone.  It roared and she felt her teeth clatter together.  It roared again and she felt her bones answer, traitors within her own skin.

The dragon folded its wings against its body and descended into a steep dive.  It was headed for Alistair.  He was so busy fending off the Darkspawn around him he had not noticed the dragon above.  She screamed his name; screamed for him to run, but the dragons cry blotted out her voice.

She reached for her magic again, searched for any tiny thread of it within herself that might be hidden away.  Instead of magic she found the hum of the Darkspawn below her again.  The screeching and buzzing became almost melodic the longer she listened.  The clamor and clatter soared and pulsed like the finest Chantry choir.  The melody of their hive grew so loud it was all she could hear.

The dragon flattened out its dive as it reached the bottom, on steady course for her companion.  Its great jaws opened, gaping and endless.  Steaming green ichor dripped off its broken teeth. She screamed out for Alistair again, begging him to look up, tears blotting her eyes.  

The dragon landed, shaking the ground and nearly sending her tumbling forward into the crevasse.  It lunged at Alistair, taking up a mouthful of Darkspawn with him and snapped its teeth shut, dropping her into a fog of darkness.

The darkness was a welcome.

Something was pulling at her.  Darkspawn? Had they come to drag her down to be the dragon’s dessert?  She struggled to push the hands away, to pry them away from her skin, but she felt so weak.  There were voices around her, familiar, but frantic.  They pleaded and implored and overlapped so she could not make out their source.

The hands were shaking her now, trying to shake her loose.  

“Perhaps we need something more extreme.  Cold water? I’ve woken several drunk comrades with a sharp slap.  Could that work?”  The voice was familiar, but she could not wade through the fog to locate its owner.

“No!”  She could hear someone begging.  “Don’t hurt her!”  That voice, so full of worry, it pulled and tugged at her.  It cleared away the clouds and mire that held her within nightmare’s bite.  That voice she recognized.  Alistair? He was alive!  The haze in her mind lifted.

She threw her eyes open, gasping and reaching for her bearings.  She was in camp.  The fire had burned itself down to only embers.  There was someone holding onto her shoulders, keeping her from launching herself onto her feet.  She fought it a moment, eager to get her legs beneath her, but her body was so tired, so fatigued she was stalled with little effort.

Wynne knelt next to her, offering a soothing hand that smoothed the ruffled hair back from her sweat slicked face.  “There you are, Astaria.  We were worried.”

She stared at Wynne a moment, eyes wide and panicked, before searching around her with frantic fear.  

Alistair sat beside her, it was his arm that sat across her shoulders supporting her trembling form. His eyes were wet and full of worry. He opened his mouth to say something, something clever, something sweet perhaps, but she threw her arms around him before he could speak.  He accepted her without question.  His arms wound around her and drew her close, nearly knocking the air from her with the sudden force of it.

She wanted to explain, wanted to tell him and warn him about what she had seen, but each time she tried it only came out as choked sobs.  Maker, she was a mess.  The most she could make out was a repeating, incoherent question asking if he was alright.

Alistair held her in a fierce embrace, grip almost painful.  He was murmuring soft things into her hair she could not quite make out.  She gave in, burying her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder and let herself break.  He kept her close, his warmth and strength a comfort she could not measure.

It had been so real. Never in her life had a dream felt so real.  She had sat by and watched, helpless, as that great demon had snatched her friend alive. The images replayed in her mind over and over, little flashes that she knew would haunt even her waking hours for days to come.  She gripped the back of Alistair’s shirt, clenching her eyes shut to try and blot them out.  He was still mumbling to her, rocking her back and forth in a gentle rhythm. Alistair was never very good at remaining quiet and she was thankful for it now.  His voice reminded her that he was alive, that what she had seen had been just an awful dream.  He was still there, whole and healthy.

Her sobs dwindled to sniffles and she relented the clawed grip she had maintained.

Alistair did not let go. He had not seemed to notice that the tears that had shook her had subsided into only tremors.  She could make out more of what he was saying now that she was calmer.  It was a rambling litany of assurances that he was fine, of how worried he had been, and for some reason it included how sorry he was.  What did he have to be sorry for?

“Alistair…” she finally whispered, voice cracking from abuse.

He gave a great suffering sniffle of his own and let her pull back, just enough to look up at him and meet his eyes.  She noticed her other companions had retreated to their own beds again.

“You called for me,” he whispered, shame creeping into his voice.  “You called my name and I couldn’t wake you.  I couldn’t help you.”

That time she had screamed for him to run, it must have been out loud.  Was that why he had been apologizing?  She shook her head, gripping his arms, frantic to make him understand that it was not his fault.  “It was… there was a dragon.  The archdemon.”

He nodded, eyes filling with understanding.  “I saw it, too.  A Warden dream.”

“I saw you... you were in a valley with so many Darkspawn and I couldn’t reach you,” she was blubbering, words stringing and tripping over each other, calling up new tears to her still damp eyes.  “There were so many.  My magic wouldn’t work and the archdemon came.  It came down and… and it…”  She dropped her gaze, unable to face him, and shook her head, frustrated with her inability to explain, haunted by the memories of the dream.  The images were still so fresh in her mind, but she struggled to form the horror into words.

He pulled her back into another crushing embrace.  “I’m alright. No teeth marks.”  He was struggling to add a hint of playfulness into his voice.

She sat back again, swiping her forearm across her eyes, fighting for composure.  He gave her an encouraging smile.  She nodded, slow and more sure.  “It was just… so real.”

He reached out to push some of her hair back behind a pointed ear.  The action surprised her and she almost pulled away from him.  It was not something she would have ever let anyone else do, but Alistair, the way he was looking at her right now...

She dropped her eyes again. Her emotions were still tumbling. She could not let him see them play out in her eyes.

The fire had died to only a glow and she found herself shivering now that the adrenaline wore down. Alistair rubbed his hands over her upper arms to bring some warmth back and she could not restrain herself from peeking up at him.  

There was a playful little smile beginning to draw at his lips, a hint of the usual Alistair.  “You know, I don’t think I’d taste very good to a dragon.  I hear bastards are rather gamey.”

“What about elves?” she asked in a small voice.

“Oh, elves taste even worse.”  He nodded, sage like and wise.  “Like… like mabari feet.”

“Mabari feet?”  She tried to sound indignant.  It coaxed some of a smile to her lips and she was glad to return to their comfortable banter.

“Mabari feet that haven’t been washed since the Blessed Age.”  He spoke as if he held the authority of knowledge everyone knew.

He gave her a wink and then stood, adding firewood to the dying fire.  The embers began to catch the logs alight and the warmth crept toward her.  She arranged the tangle of blankets and pulled them over herself.

Alistair was watching her, the former humor gone from his face, replaced now with some expression she could not read.  He rubbed at his shoulder, thoughts flickering over his eyes and the furrow of his brow, before seeming to make some important decision.  He crossed to his bedroll and pulled it over, dropping it not more than a foot from her own.

“There.”  His smile had slipped into something quite sincere, tone softening.  “If you wake up and you’re unsure if I’m alive or not, you can just reach over and slap me.”  His voice held a hesitant quality to it.  He was waiting for her to send him away.  

She curled up beneath her blankets, laying out on her side facing him. When she did not reprimand him or shoo him away he laid down opposite of her, setting his sword beside him.  She snaked an arm out from beneath her blankets to touch his arm, checking the distance.

“You just gave me permission to slap you.”

“Hmm, blast.  You’re right.  I did,” he whispered.

Her eyes felt swollen and dry.  Despite the terror that still loomed behind her lids, she felt them slip closed.  

“Goodnight, mabari feet.”

“Goodnight, Alistair.”

 The morning crested over the trees and lit the fog in a welcoming glow.  Alistair woke before the rest of the camp.  His muscles were sore, but they had been sore since leaving Ostagar and no longer gave him notice.  He rolled over to check on his fellow Warden.  She was curled beneath the blankets, like a cat, tufts of hair standing out in awkward angles revealing the elegant slant of an ear commonly hidden in daylight.  Her eyes were still dark and puffy from the night before.  Ugly tracks of tears lay dried upon her cheeks.  For now, though, she looked peaceful, lips slightly parted and hands resting curled beneath her chin.  Some wistful part of him wanted to acknowledge that she looked rather adorable asleep like that.  And some desperate part of him begged to reach out and hold her again, as he had last night.  Desperate and stupid.

He rose from the unforgiving ground and stretched.  Something popped in his back.  He deposited his cache of blankets over the sleeping form beside him, slow and gentle as to not rouse her.  She sighed and curled up even tighter, head disappearing beneath the covers, leaving just a few locks of hair as clues that the only other Warden in Thedas was hidden below.

Alistair set himself to work packing up camp.  He coaxed the fire back into life to be ready for breakfast, then broke down his and Astaria’s tents, stowing their belongings back into the appropriate bags. By the time their other companions crept yawning from tents and blankets he was ready to begin breakfast.

Leliana regarded him with a curious eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

Morrigan crossed into camp from her smaller one, tying her bedroll to the bottom of her bag with skilled fingers.  She paused as she neared the slumbering woman near the fire, reaching down to the Warden’s shoulder.  Alistair intercepted her, reaching out to stay her hand.  Morrigan shot him a lurid look, admonishments rising to her lips. He lifted a finger to his own and shook his head.  Where he might joke and insult his eyes now implored her silence.

“Just give her a few more minutes,” he pleaded.

She stared at him a heated moment before nodding and withdrawing her hand.

Alistair finished up the few remaining things needed to pack up and then made up two plates of heaping breakfast.  He returned to the last sleeping member of their group.  She was still coiled beneath the blankets.  He reached down to touch her shoulder.

“Astaria?” he called out, keeping his voice low to not startle her.  She rolled over onto her back, squinting her eyes shut with a tired whimper that tore into his chest as sure and piercing as a dagger between plates of armor.

The usual clamor of camp caught up with her and she sat up, blinking bleary eyes at the morning halo.

“I overslept?”

Alistair plopped himself beside her and shoved the plate into her hands.  He did not wait for her and began eating, shoveling large bites into his mouth.

“It’s ok,” he replied around a mouthful of eggs.  “Everything’s ready to go.”

She turned to stare at him, a slice of toasted bread halfway to her lips.  She knew.  She somehow knew what he had done that morning.  Would she chide him?  Would she see the gesture as an insult?

“Thank you.”  It was a soft response, unsure, unusual for their leader.  But it was genuine and the emotion in her eyes made it hard for him to chew his food without biting his tongue.

He felt like something passed between them at that moment.  Some shared understanding, some promise.  He could not put a name to it or explain it, but it was time for him to take a closer look at the feelings he had been so diligent in stowing away. The blossom tucked safe and secure in his bag sang to him.  Suddenly instead of terror it filled him with excitement.

But now was not the time. He gave her a knowing wink and flashed a charming smile before digging back into his plate.  But soon.