xXXXx

Gwen woke up the next morning with bright eyes and a sunnier attitude than she'd had in days.

Her first thoughts in the morning were of one man, and so she dressed quickly and hurried down the stairs making her way to his room, hoping to rouse him for breakfast. She was about to knock on the door when Solas appeared beside her.

"Allow the man to rest undisturbed."

"Why? He's got to be starving."

"There are things we must speak of privately, and something I must… ascertain of you. Would you accompany me on a short trip?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, she questioned him. "What sort of trip?"

"Somewhere a bit more interesting." Solas made a strange, sweeping gesture with his hand, which the Inquisitor followed hypnotically.

She then consented easily. "Oh. Sure."

.

Bright sun shone down upon them and though her breath came out in white whorls, and the ground was covered by a thin dusting of snow, Gwen was quite warm. Haven was unnaturally quiet except for a stir of wind rustling through the trees. Solas watched her intently as her eyes drifted around her former home.

The woman walked with a sadness in her step. "I miss this place."

"Yes, I know how much it meant to you." He paused to study her response.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"There's something else I want you to see."

Solas led her through the Chantry and down into the dank dungeon. Torches lit the descending stairwell which opened into a large central room surrounded by locked prison cells. A set of shackles lay in the middle of the floor.

"This is where we embarked on our journey together."

"I—I don't remember." Gwen lowered her eyes.

"For days, you lay unconscious as I kept my vigil. I studied the mark, ran tests, but as you refused to wake, I had resigned myself to leaving this place."

"Then, you woke up." He chuckled as he continued, "And the rest is history."

Smiling sweetly, she lifted her left hand to examine the green crevice. "Thank you, for watching over me, for teaching me how to use this."

"Don't thank me yet." Solas nodded, a frown forming.

The Inquisitor pinched her eyebrows together with concern and followed him as he ascended the stairs. A glimmer of confusion passed over her before she left the dungeon, and she turned back to the place where the shackles lay. In a blink, she saw the shadow of a figure kneeling next to another form lying on the ground.

Shaking the image from her head, she quickly took to the stairs and stepped up into the bright light again. The elf mage stood tall, looking out across the village, his back toward her. "Do you know where we are?"

Gwen looked around them, confused by his obvious question. "We're in Haven."

"Are you sure?" With a thin smile, he turned with chin in hand.

"Are you teasing me? This is Haven." She made the statement matter-of-factly.

Solas smirked. "Let me ask another question: is there anywhere else you'd rather be?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you could choose any moment in time or any place on this world to visit, where would that be?"

She thought for a long moment. "I—suppose I'd choose—"

"Don't tell me." He turned squarely to face her, touching her shoulders gently. "Think of it, in remarkable detail: sights, smells, how you felt when you were there, the landscape, everything."

Gwen cocked her head. "Is this another lesson in magic?"

With a rolling nod and simultaneous lift of his eyebrow, Solas gripped her a little harder. "Yes."

"Okay." Several quick nods later, Gwen had closed her eyes, an anxious smile on her face.

Around them the landscape began to change dramatically. Rain replaced gently falling snow and the sky turned overcast, but still bright as day. The musty smell of damp earth filled their nostrils and lush grass grew up from the dirt road beneath their feet. A pitter-patter of rain falling on tree leaves took over their aural senses.

Gwen's eyes popped wide and her mouth hung open, as she tore herself from the elf's grasp and made a quick survey of their new location. They were in Crestwood.

In a jubilant, cocksure voice she snapped back to Solas. "I can teleport."

Suppressing his involuntary laughter, the elf corrected her. "No, you can't."

Looking slightly crestfallen, she questioned him. "What do you call taking us from Haven to Crestwood in a matter of seconds?"

"I think you may be overlooking something." Solas pointed to a large tree with a boulder sitting underneath it several yards from them. Atop the boulder sat a man, happily tearing into a piece of jerky.

"Alistair?"

"Close. That is a spirit taking the form of our comrade. It was drawn to your memory of him." He waited a moment for recognition to spring to her face.

Gwen's eyes jumped around. "The Fade."

"Yes."

"Why are you in my dream?"

"We're not in your dream, not since Skyhold." Sighing, he glared at the sky to stop the annoying drizzle that she had created. "We're in my dream."

Puzzled, the Inquisitor listened intently for his explanation.

"I have made a discovery." He strolled around her, his posture rigid, his chin again held in his hand. "Days ago, Alistair retold his experiences regarding your shared dream, and a suspicion arose. I had to test it in a safe setting."

Unable to meet her eyes, he continued in a strained voice. "That night at Caer Bronach when you came to me, you were right to question the mark's capabilities. I should have anticipated this outcome, but I was distracted."

"Solas, you're starting to scare me; what's going on?"

"Believe me, I had no idea that this was even possible, or I would have warned you. I won't fail you again, I promise."

"Out with it!" She stomped, and a roll of thunder sounded above them.

"Relax, Inquisitor: this will not be easy to hear." Solas took a deep, shaky breath and continued.

"You have become a somniari, a dreamer, a shaper of the Fade." He paused to allow the idea to sink into her mind.

Immediately she broke into a frenzied voice. "How is this possible?"

"The ancient magic that saturates your mark was never meant to be embodied by a mortal and there are… unforeseen side effects."

Gwen nodded quickly, solemnly. "Can I control it?"

"With my help, yes. I too am a dreamer, though your abilities differ from my own. Where I can find ancient memories stirring in the places I sleep, I cannot easily pass through the invisible walls into other's dreams as you have done. I can teach you to detect spirits and demons, and protect yourself from possession."

"Possession? But, I passed my Harrowing years ago."

"Demons can be drawn to us, more so than other mages. We'll need to bolster your will."

"Maker." Gwen rubbed her face, the shock settling in.

"I am so sorry." Solas reached for her hand and she squeezed back. His steely gaze honed in on her, drawing her eyes to his like a magnet. "Remember, it was you who solely survived the explosion at the Conclave, you who saved Redcliffe and Haven, and you who are destined for much more. You bear the mark and are the key to our salvation."

Gwen exhaled deeply, her eyes locked on his as he continued.

"In that single gesture, when you closed the first rift, I felt the entire world change." He released her hand, recognizing and fearing his own intensity. "You need not be afraid."

The weight of the knowledge hit her and busied her stomach with a twinge of fear. From the boulder, her eyes contacted the spirit sitting there. He was watching her curiously, a peaceful smile on his face. Gwen closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, catching a sort of 'scent' on the air: clean and crisp, like laundry, fresh from the drying line. Tilting her head to the spirit, it nodded an affirmation to her and dissolved into the ether in a whirl of white, wispy smoke.

Solas' voice drew her back to him. "We should speak again in the morning."

"You mean—"

"Yes. It's time to wake up."

.

Jolting from her bed, Gwen's heart pounded in her chest. She wasted no time pulling on her robe and scampered down her stairs to greet the dark and quiet main hall.

No clear thoughts came to her, just a pained urgency to speak to Solas in the real world, to make sure that she was so longer dreaming. Standing in front of the door to the rotunda, she paused briefly and took a deep breath, then proceeded to enter the dark room.

Scanning the dim light, she saw him, standing against the doorway to the gardens. The faded light of dawn obscured everything, save his lithe silhouette. She tiptoed over to him and he turned to greet her, a look of sorrow etched onto his dark features.

For the first time since waking, she felt her own face, and it mirrored his emotion. Surprising her, he put his arm over her shoulders and ushered her toward the fragrant garden. He kept his arm protectively around her until they reached a bench under the colonnade and sat.

Gwen took several deep breaths before she spoke. "When we were returning to Skyhold… Alistair and Surana… I caused the dream sharing?"

"I believe so."

"But, how?"

"You must have trespassed into his dream, then found Surana, taking him along with you into her dream."

"Were they in any danger?"

"No more than in their usual dreams. The Fade is a relatively safe place, unless you encounter demons."

"Good." Gwen perched on the edge of the bench, looking hopeful as she asked another question.

"Could tonight have been a... temporary thing? And could the night on the road have just been coincidence? Alistair has definitely been on my mind of late… and I wasn't able to change the Fade before, not like I just did with you."

Intrigued, Solas responded. "Did you try?"

The Inquisitor's shoulders drooped. "No."

"I felt a subtle change in you when we met in the Fade tonight, that only happens when you meet another dreamer. You should exercise this new power when you dream to test the limits of your new abilities."

The woman straightened her spine and looked up to him in suspicion. "I'm not sure if I'm okay with that."

"We can work slowly, of course."

Burying her face in her hands, she groaned softly. "This changes everything, doesn't it?"

"I cannot say."

Gwen shook her head at his non-committal attitude. "Am I in danger of accidentally ripping open a rift to the Fade at any moment?" She looked down at her hand: the mark was tame for once and she gazed at the dim green crevice.

"Given how much energy you muster when closing rifts, I believe you would know if you were opening one, even involuntarily."

"Why is this happening? As if having the mark isn't enough by itself…"

"I don't wish to frighten you, falon, but your hold on the mark may be degrading."

"Will I be rid of it then?"

In a weary voice, he responded. "It is doubtful."

"Right now, I can only surmise that your mark destabilizes over time, sending you into the Fade at those pinnacle moments, with perfect alertness. I do not yet know the method by which you transcend the spaces."

"How did you even find me?"

"I waited for you in a communal place in the Fade for a night before you moved beyond the confines of your own dreams. When you crossed your threshold, that slight reverberation became a beacon in the mist for me to follow. Still, it took some time to find you."

"Go back a moment: what do you mean it 'destabilizes'?"

"Look at your hand: you wouldn't even know the mark was there right now. I wonder, what was it like yesterday?"

"It was sparking." Gwen hung her head, shaking it in shame. "I didn't give it more thought than putting a glove over it. How stupid of me."

Solas' hand brushed over her left palm, where he gently squeezed. "How could you have known? This is new, even to me, and I can only make assumptions. My guess is that the mark charges with Fade magic and if you don't expel it, it is expelled for you, creating an invisible doorway of a sort."

"Is this what it's like for you? Opening a door?"

The elf chuckled softly. "I simply wake in the Fade, as if I'm waking in the real world."

"Then, there's a chance that when the mark is gone, I won't be a dreamer anymore?"

Solas blinked in rapid thought. "Yes."

A thin sigh of relief and strength passed over Gwen and she sat still for a long moment. The eastern sky brightened, chasing away the residual night with each moment.

The Inquisitor turned her head to see her friend still staring at her, waiting patiently.

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. "This world yet has secrets. I suppose I should stop being surprised that these sorts of things are even possible."

"Well said, falon."

Gwen swallowed, gathering courage from Maker knows where. "I believe I can deal with this new development, so long as it's temporary."

He nodded to her, smiling proudly. "We will continue to monitor your new ability."

"Of course, use the Inquisition's resources if need be."

"Well," he met her eyes across the faint light, "for the time being, this should be kept private."

"Why?"

"We don't know the extent of the instability; you need to keep closing rifts, keep pursuing Corypheus." Veiling his frustration, he stood and took a step away, only turning back after a moment of quiet concentration. "We cannot risk them taking you from your mission."

Alarm spread across Gwen's features. "I hadn't thought of that, but I suppose you're right."

"Together we can study this as we travel. You're my pupil in the healing arts; I can teach you this as well."

"Very well."

Solas tilted his head to the sky. "You had better return to your quarters before the sun is fully risen."

"Thank you—for being here with me, and for guiding me."

He nodded curtly, with a concerned expression. "Remember to keep this secret."

.

Back in her room, Gwen had just laid her head down as the sun rose outside. Tired, she closed her eyes, hoping to the Maker that she'd be able to sleep another hour or so and have no dreams, but sleep would not come.

Rising drearily, she shuffled to her desk and took a seat, lighting an oil lamp on the corner of her desk with the flick of her fingers. She sought the leather-bound journal and pulled in in front of her, automatically readying her quill and ink as a slow yawn overtook her.

Gwen opened her journal to a new page and the quill danced across the page as neat script followed it.

…

Cloudsreach 9:42 Dragon

The morning after

…

Blinking furiously, she tapped the quill and the ink blotted on the page where she trailed off, but she couldn't write a single word more.

What she wanted was to divulge her innermost thoughts to the paper and her feelings on her newfound ability, but she feared putting anything down where someone might find them, read them, and possibly take her from her duty out of a fear for her power.

"The Inquisition is all I have right now." Determined, she shut the journal with a crisp snap. "And I can't risk it."

A heavy, rolling knock sounded on the door at the bottom of her stone steps and she pulled on her robe and rushed to answer it.

She reached the bottom and called, without ceremony. "Who is it?"

Leliana's bubbly voice came from the other side of the door. "It's me, silly."

Opening the door, Gwen slumped against the heavy wood. "You couldn't have waited until I came down to breakfast?"

"Sorry, no." Grinning wildly, she slipped past the Inquisitor and pulled the door shut behind her. "So, how was your night?"

With a fresh, almost giddy smile, she softened. "It was … nice. What did you say to him at tea?"

"Only the truth." Leliana dropped her smile and lifted a notebook. "As much as I would love to hear more about your night, it'll have to wait until after the morning briefing."

"I couldn't have had one morning to sleep late in my comfortable bed before traveling?"

"Apparently not. Iron Bull has returned from Crestwood, and his team are all waiting in the War Room for their leader."

Gwen groaned, turning back to the stairs. "I'll be down as soon as I can."

The rogue winked, calling behind her. "And do brush out your hair, dear."

xXXXx

The morning meeting wrapped up quickly and cleanly, as per Iron Bull's usual succinct business dealings. They'd escorted a prisoner from Crestwood and due to her departure the next day, his trial was going to be held that very afternoon.

Throughout the briefing, Gwen held herself with composure, though inside, she felt immensely burdened. A bit of apprehension filled her, and she was reminded of her break-down in Crestwood, only a week prior. She needed her friends and allies. She needed someone to talk to, who she felt comfortable with. One man came to mind, and after their dismissal from the meeting, she intended to find him, if only to be in his presence

With thoughts abuzz, Gwen moved through the Ambassador's office until her eyes met Blackwall, as he stood next to Josephine's desk in the midst of a quiet conversation with her. The Inquisitor bowed her head to the pair in respect and then stopped suddenly when a curious thought flew through her mind.

"Blackwall…" she tilted her head at him and he straightened, turning toward her.

"Inquisitor?"

"Would you accompany me to meet with the Grey Warden Alistair? I think I've just had an idea."

He consented, but his expression was mismatched his body language. "Of course."

Gwen beckoned him to follow her through the doors to the main hall.

.

With the senior Warden a few paces behind, Gwen found Alistair in the garden.

She smiled at him sweetly. "Hi."

"I missed you at breakfast." He managed to say it before the grizzly Grey Warden came into view. "Oh. Hello again, Warden."

Blackwall bowed casually to him.

"Iron Bull is back from Crestwood, and he called a morning meeting to discuss their trip, which is why I'm here actually."

Alistair glanced back to the other Grey Warden. "Is something wrong?"

"There's a trial this afternoon and since you were in Crestwood with me, and you both have knowledge about the Blight, I'd like to talk to you and Blackwall beforehand."

"When?"

"Now, if you don't mind."

He nodded, and she stepped around him on her way to the Rotunda.

Solas was back, painting again. He smiled at Gwen and came down from the ladder.

Gwen looked at the men trailing her. "Alistair, do you mind if we use your room to speak privately?"

"Fine by me."

"Go ahead and take Blackwall; I'll be there in a moment." She gestured to Solas and the men left through the exit toward the main hall.

When the door closed behind them, Solas looked her over. "Did you have a chance to rest again after this morning?"

"Not really. I plan on getting a cup of coffee on my way through the hall."

"This will get easier, falon." Softly, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Alistair came into the room and halted suddenly at their interaction. He tilted his head, and cleared his throat. Gwen turned to greet him, walking out of the elf's grasp. "I'm coming."

His narrowed eyes stretched back and forth between Solas and Gwen. "I... was just going to ask if you wanted snacks."

The woman grinned, coming to his side and taking him by the arm. "Coffee and some of those little honey cakes with walnuts would be lovely; I'll help you carry the tray."

.

As soon as they were all in his room, Gwen began going over the facts of the trial. Placing the tray down upon his bedside table, she poured herself a cup of hot black coffee.

"The crime in question happened ten years ago, during the Blight. I began to suspect foul play when the dam controls were intact; Dedrick said they'd been destroyed by darkspawn."

Both men nodded in understanding.

"You found this in the man's home, correct?" She dug into her pack and handed a folded letter to Blackwall, who stood rigid by the door.

He glanced at the letter, then handed it to Alistair to read. "Yes, ma'am."

Alistair took a cake, stuffed it into his mouth, and passed the little plate to his fellow as he read the letter.

"I'm not hungry." The bearded man remarked, placing the plate back on the tray.

The cake hung awkwardly out of the younger Warden's mouth as his eyes jolted up from the letter and followed the plate all the way to its resting place. Alistair's brow furrowed and his eyes returned to the folded paper in his hand.

…

Inquisitor,

It was not darkspawn that opened the dam and flooded Old Crestwood ten years ago. I did, in secret, the night they attacked. The undead you have been fighting are people I killed with my own hands.

We'd taken in refugees from the Blight. Many were ill. We moved the sick to the lower part of Crestwood, and the refugees into the caves, to stop the disease from spreading. It didn't work. One confessed he'd seen blight sickness before. It was always fatal. When the darkspawn attacked, I knew the only way the village would survive is if the blight-sick drowned with the monsters. I cannot bear the sight of Old Crestwood now that the water is gone. I cannot stay.

I'm sorry.

Mayor Gregory Dedrick

…

Alistair grimaced, placing the paper back in Gwen's hand after a few moments of introspection. "You have his confession, then why the trial?"

"For judgement." Gwen met his eyes, finding comfort in them, given the gravity of determining a man's future. "I have to decide what becomes of him."

"I see now why you're having difficulty with it."

"My real problem is, I can't say that in the same situation I'd have done any different." Gwen watched the discomfort in Alistair's posture. "You don't agree?"

He glanced at their silent companion, meeting his eye. "It's not that. I've had to make decisions like this in the past. Sometimes there's no good recourse."

Gwen popped open her knapsack and prepared her ink and quill. "Can either of you tell me, what is the blight sickness?"

Blackwall re-positioned himself uncomfortably. "We shouldn't be talking about it."

Gwen shook her head in clear distaste of his answer. "Given the nature of the man's crimes, I feel I need to know."

They both looked at Alistair, waiting for his response.

Pacing, he held his chin and turned toward the other Warden. "You don't think we should tell her, considering…"

"Go ahead if you want to, but I'm still on good terms with the Grey Wardens. No need to risk my reputation."

"Right." Alistair squinted at him, then turned his attention to Gwen, pursing his lips in preparation. "It's a wasting disease, spread by those with the taint, like darkspawn. Humans infected with it become shells of themselves."

His eye found Blackwall. "We call them ghouls and we're… merciful… when we encounter them."

She looked up from her codex. "So, there's no treatment."

Alistair chuckled darkly. "It can be treated."

"The sick refugees could have been healed? Can you explain, please?" Gwen turned to him with her notebook in hand, drawing closer with a smile. "You don't get to be vague, Warden. A man's life is at stake."

Alistair caught Blackwall's noncommittal shrug in his peripheral vision.

Quietly, he explained, dropping his smile as the words came out. "The only option if you're tainted, is to become a Grey Warden."

Uneasiness amassing in her eyes, she centered on him and dropped her journal clumsily. "Is that what happened to you?"

"No, I was perfectly healthy when I joined them."

"And you?" She looked to the bearded man with a shred of pity.

"I chose the path too."

She narrowed her eyes in thought. "How does it work?"

The younger Warden again looked to his superior, who shook his head with scorn. "Clearly, you don't agree with me telling her."

"I don't disagree, I'm just not going to reveal anything myself. As a Warden-Constable, I actually have something to lose if I tell the truth."

Alistair extended his hand toward Gwen. "She can be trusted."

"Of that I have little doubt." He stood taller and moved to the door, chuckling. "But it's clear that you don't need me here, son."

With pleading in her voice, she called out. "Wait, Blackwall…"

"Forgive me, milady, but I should like to rest before the trial begins. We traveled through the night to get here by dawn."

Gwen could do nothing but release him from his duty, but her eyes expressed her disapproval. "I'll come find you if you're needed."

"I think you have everything you need right there." He smirked and tipped his head to Alistair. "Good day to you both."

The man left the room briskly, and the remaining couple looked at one another curiously.

Gwen smoothed out her journal page. "He's not usually like that."

"Where did you say you found him?"

"He was recruiting, just south of Redcliffe in the Hinterlands. Why?"

"Something feels off with him."

Slightly offended by his inference, she turned the conversation back to the Blight sickness. "We have other things to discuss, besides Blackwall."

"Right. Where were we?"

Gwen checked back through her notes. "You were about to tell me how one becomes a Grey Warden?"

"Well… There's a ritual," Alistair rolled his shoulders and paced about the room again. There was no easy way to say the next bit. "And we take the taint into our bodies."

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "But, you just said—"

"I know." Alistair thinned his lips and held up his hands defensively. "The way we do it is safe—mostly. There are recruits that don't make it, but that's the price for keeping the world safe from darkspawn and Blights."

Gwen nodded, understanding the secrecy and the price. "So, joining the Grey Wardens can be deadly; I see why the secret is kept. Does the ritual then expel the taint?"

"No."

A glimmer of concern passed over her face, and she tried to harden herself. "How can you live with it inside you? You just said that humans who have blight sickness become ghouls."

The man swallowed a lump forming in his throat. This was it: the truth, and his fear. Alistair took a confidant step toward her, plucked the journal from her grip and placed it on the side table. Then he picked up her hands, cradling them in his.

"When you came to me two days ago, asking me why I didn't want to start anything romantic, I didn't want to tell you the truth. It's made its way to the surface now, so I might as well share this with you."

She implored him with a sullen look.

He closed his eyes for a moment in consideration of his words. "The Joining is special, different that just contracting blight sickness, but that isn't important."

"The important part is that…the darkspawn taint is inside me, it's how I can sense them, it's why the false Calling affects me, and eventually, it'll overtake my humanity."

Gwen allowed one word to escape her lips. "No."

He nodded glumly. "That's what the real Calling is. When the taint overwhelms our bodies and minds, we go to the Deep Roads to fight until we die."

She couldn't look into his amber eyes. "How long?"

"For the true Calling?"

She nodded, her fingers worrying circles over his.

"Twenty years, at best."

Brows still pinched, she ventured to look up at him. "And at worst?"

Alistair tried to smile, if only to soften the gravity of his words. "If Corypheus' Calling doesn't take me, then I can't say for certain. Ten years? Duncan had been a Grey Warden for around twenty years and before he died, he confided in me that he began to hear… the whispers."

"That's what you're hearing now? Whispers?"

"Yes. I don't know how it's being done, but I hear it, incessantly. When it truly comes, the taint will call to me, just like this, until the pull is so strong, there's nothing left to do, but travel the Long Walk."

Alistair gazed at her with remorse, for burdening her with the truth. Her face was downcast and her hands were still enclosed in his, but still.

The few moments of silent thought were ended when she looked up at him with adoring eyes. "I think I understand now."

"You… do?" He cocked his head.

"The way you acted two days ago, you were concealing the truth for me, to spare me. You're going to die, and you're worried about hurting me, if we should… grow closer."

"Well, yes."

Gwen lifted her hand to touch his cheek, roughened by a day's worth of stubble. "The life we lead puts us in constant danger. When do any of us know when we're going to die?"

Alistair lifted his hand and closed his hand around hers, bringing it down between them again. "There's a good chance you will survive this."

Gwen stared down at her hand cradled in his and turned it over. Revealing the mark on her hand, she remembered her dream and a deep dread hit her stomach.

"I'll hope for that, but the future is so fluid. Anything can come along and upset the balance of our lives."

"That's… not what I expected you'd say."

She stared at him and stepped away, with a skip. "Good."

Renewed, she went to the armor dummy in the corner. "Now, I've got a man to judge, and I think I know the proper course of action."

Cautious, he lifted his brow at her, a little wary of her attitude. "What do you intend?"

She whipped the sheet off dramatically and it floated to the ground. "Ever heard the saying, 'let the punishment fit the crime'?"

The man lifted a curious eyebrow and gripped his chin.

Gwen ran her hands over the shining breastplate. The cool metal reflected a contorted image of herself. "Is this your full set?"

"Mostly."

Grinning wide, she beckoned him over. "Well, then, let's get you into it."

.

Clearing her throat politely before she spoke, Josephine called out in a loud, clear voice.

"Mayor Gregory Dedrick of Crestwood is present for betraying his constituents. He confesses, in a letter found by the Inquisition, that ten years ago, he flooded Old Crestwood to kill refugees and villagers touched by the Blight. He claims that is was to spare the rest of Crestwood, but we only have his word."

Soldiers brought forth the man and placed him before her, on his knees. His skin was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes, but the figure of a well-built man showed beneath his ragged clothes. His grey hair was limp and oily, and when his eyes turned up to her, resolve was the only thing she saw.

Gwen sat still upon the Inquisition throne, wearing a simple, yet handsome, crimson robe, trimmed with gold. When she finished sizing up the man, she leaned forward to speak. "Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

His voice was low and calm. "I was told there was no cure for the Blight, but when I tried to convince the townsfolk, no one wanted to leave behind their sick loved ones."

The Inquisitor kept her features stoic. "Were there innocents caught in the flood?"

"Nearly everyone in the village had the Blight, I swear it." The man raised his voice and echoed on the walls. "I know I lied about the flood, and I know I'm at your mercy, but I couldn't tell the villagers I'd drowned their families to save them—I couldn't."

Gwen nodded, and the soldiers brought him to his feet. The Inquisitor then rose, meeting the man eye-to eye. "The Blight was your undoing. Let it also be your means of redemption."

She then stepped aside and sent a quick nod to a man in the crowd.

Honey-brown eyes met hers as Alistair cut through the people to stand at her side, in his full Grey Warden regalia, Blackwall followed, in similar fashion. "For your crimes, Gregory Dedrick, I give you to our Grey Warden allies, to fight darkspawn until the Calling takes you."

Alistair regarded the man. "Given the current status of the Grey Wardens, we must ensure you don't find yourself wishing to flee when you travel to their nearest stronghold. You'll be bound by conscription, until the Joining."

Dedrick nodded.

Josephine readied her quill.

Warden Blackwall nodded in return, speaking in a strong voice. "I hereby invoke the Grey Warden's Right of Conscription on this man, Gregory Dedrick."

The younger Warden pursed his lips and quietly regarded him. "Welcome to the Grey Wardens, recruit."

Momentarily speechless, the guilty man knelt. "I—I don't deserve the honor, but I'll do my best."

He only looked up when the soldiers pulled at him, directing him to the doors of the dungeon.

Alistair and Blackwall followed slowly behind.

oOOOo

The dungeon was dark, save the thin torchlight from along the walls. Gregory Dedrick sat on the bench in his cell, his hands still bound, but the door hung open, awaiting the Grey Wardens.

Alistair kept silent all the way down, wondering about the man in front of him. From their very first encounter in Crestwood, he felt an empty sensation within the man.

Usually when he was with his kinsmen, he felt a touch of the taint inside them, and the prolonged exposure to the feeling comforted him more than he realized. Without them close by, the emptiness was strange and isolating. So, when he'd first heard there was another Grey Warden in the Inquisition's ranks, a wash of relief fell over him: to be around one of his fellows again pleased him greatly.

Oddly, there was nothing of the sort with Warden Blackwall. No relief, no sense of the taint, and Alistair didn't know what to make of it.

It's probably this damned Calling. He gave the man the benefit of his doubt.

As they drew near, Blackwall stood beside his cohort, pulling him to a stop. "We should figure this out before we're in earshot."

Alistair looked down to where his hand caught his arm and scowled slightly. "I don't think there's much to figure; you'll need to escort him to one of the Grey Warden bases so they can perform the Joining. I'd suggest Vigil's Keep, since it's the closest."

"Why me? The Inquisition needs me."

"And if I go to them, they'll likely imprison me, thus ending my investigation in the Western Approach. Aren't you the least bit curious what they're up to?"

"Fine." Blackwall breathed out through his nose, clearly irritated, but keeping his cool. "So much for a few days off."

Alistair tilted his head and left without another word.

.

With a quick trip back to his room to change out of his armor, he returned to the main hall, bustling through on his way to the Undercroft. Rummaging through his thoughts, he gave no attention to the folk around him, nor their stares and whispers.

His mind was focusing on one thing: his partially-finished project in the Undercroft. Alistair needed to convince Dagna to continue the work in his stead. So far, he'd cut the pieces, well enough for Lem's standards, and they needed to be pieced together, then the finishing touches would be added.

All I need her to do is work on cutting the holes for sewing and order the next set of supplies—

Behind him, he heard a man call out in an articulate, yet warmly melodic voice. "Warden, might I have a word?"

There was something familiar about it, and he turned to see a man, squinting his blue eyes in curiosity, wrinkles forming at the outer edges of his eyes. His neatly combed, auburn hair touched his shoulders and an neat shadow of red stubble grew across his jaw. Dressed in fur-lined leather, he bowed reverently.

"Teagan." Alistair swallowed a lump forming in his throat. He hadn't seen his old friend since the celebration of the Blight's end, ten years ago, and he and his brother, Eamon, weren't happy that he'd refused what they thought was his birthright.

"Forgive me for startling you." A strange, sad expression crossed his features. "I saw you from the crowd at the trial, and admit I have been waiting for our paths to cross since."

"Gw—the Inquisitor mentioned you were here. I intended to go into the valley this afternoon to seek you out." He smiled, lopsided, returning in a moment to the bright young boy who wanted more than anything to be loved and respected by the Guerrin's. "Looks like you beat me to the chase."

Teagan's blue eyes brightened as he took a step forward, looking Alistair over carefully before extended his arms. "Maker, it's been a long time—you've grown up."

The two embraced in a warm hug and the younger man beamed. "It's been too long, if you ask me."

Releasing one another, they stood for a silent moment, sizing one another up. Teagan broke in, chuckling at himself. "Quite right. I have so many questions floating about in my head, I don't know where to start, or even if I should at this moment given our time constraints. Would you care to have dinner with me, tonight?"

Yes! Alistair nodded, emphatically.

Wait, no: dinner with Gwen. Damn it. Now of all times, I'm busy.

"I could spare some time now, if you have it."

Teagan's smile fell. "I'm to meet with Leliana; we're long due for a truly professional discussion. I'm sorry."

Alistair nodded, making his decision. "I have a… meeting with the Inquisitor tonight, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you joined us."

She'll understand, at least I hope. Alistair felt a flinch of guilt in his gut.

"Yes, the Lady Trevelyan is quite accommodating, and a delight in which to share company, I daresay. I'd enjoy seeing her again before I leave this place." Teagan clapped Alistair on his back before turning to go. "I'll see you both at the tavern, just before sundown."

xXXXx

Gwen sat slumped in the easy chair in the Ambassador's office, listening to Josephine's farewell pleasantries, followed by the outer door being shut and locked. Silently the Antivan woman walked back to her desk and sat herself down, releasing a breathy sigh.

Grumbling almost inaudibly, Josie glanced to her companion. "Uhg, I thought he would never leave. He certainly likes to hear himself talk."

Sipping her tea, the Inquisitor listened, nodding with a forced sympathetic expression. "You should have stopped making eye contact an hour ago, like I did."

Josephine scowled and opened her agenda, readying her quill as she spoke. "The Comte will expect to see us at dinner."

With eyes glazed over and deep in thought, she'd realized her Ambassador had her booked for the evening. Professionally, she wanted a reprieve. Well, in all honesty, she desperately needed one. But personally, she wanted to spend that reprieve with Alistair.

Shaking herself free from staring, she rose from the chair. Gwen walked to the Ambassador's desk and planted her hands on the edge. "I need a break, Josephine."

"I understand." She hummed in disapproval. "The docket is sparse for the rest of the day."

"No, no. You don't understand." She gripped the desk harder and stated firmly. "I need a break, for the rest of the day."

Josephine pushed her chair back and looked up with incredulity, throwing her hands up in the air. "But, what of the Comte Renald De Mourier! You will be back on the road tomorrow morning, what am I to tell him?"

Gwen ran a hand through her wild mane of hair. "I beg you, put him off. I don't want to displease the man by my current… state. He probably already dislikes me for avoiding eye contact during our introduction."

With a lengthy sigh, she sat back in the chair. "I wasn't going to mention it, but you do look a bit harried, dear. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course." Gwen answered quickly. "I just didn't sleep well last night."

Josephine continued, while the scratching of her pen crossed the paper quickly. "Should I have Adan make you a sleep tea?"

"That might help."

"Given your fatigue, I think I can persuade the Comte to have dinner alone with me this evening. But you owe me one. A big one." She looked up from her desk while folding the parchment, then placed it into an envelope and sealed it with red wax. "I'll leave a pouch in your room and have the maid leave the teapot by the fire."

"Thank you." Gwen rose quickly, bolting to the door once her freedom was sealed.

Josephine called out after her, and smirked. "Do try to get some rest."

.

Gwen let a joyful feeling spread across her body for the first time that day, as she strolled out into the main hall and towards the Undercroft. A weightless feeling took over her again when she thought of Alistair's request the night before and new burden of being a dreamer lifted momentarily.

Once through the heavy door, she scanned the room, finding the Grey Warden sitting at a table, his cheek was smeared with dark leather oil and was actively wiping his greasy hands on a rag. His surprised eyes rose from his work and in an instant, he tore around the table to stand before her.

Along with a bewildered stare, he wore a sleeveless tunic, which showed off his toned arms, and a dark apron, tied tight around his midsection. Gwen widened her eyes in close observation: the disheveled, working man persona was definitely adding to his sex appeal.

"Good afternoon." The woman crooned and revealed a wide smile.

"Same to you. What are you doing here?" He furrowed his brow at her.

"I have good news."

His ears perked up. "That so?"

"I have nothing more to do today, if you want to go to the valley early." Her last words were whispered as her eyes darted around the room.

"Yes! Yes, of course." Alistair was excited, and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

"Good. I'll give you some time to clean up." She chuckled and mimicked wiping her cheek as Alistair brought his hand up to his own cheek.

"I suppose I should at least wash my face."

Laughing, she pointed behind her. "Meet me at the stable in an hour?"

"See you then."

xoXOxo

Alistair had just finished helping the stable boy put the tack on the horses, when he turned to see Gwen coming toward him, her face radiant in the afternoon sun. She too had freshened up since he saw her. Her hair was tamed it into a handsome tail that lay over one of her shoulders. She wore simple burgundy dyed leather leggings, brown knee high riding boots, and her grey cloak, secured across her shoulders, obscuring the rest of her attire. A leather pack slung across her shoulder, and the gentleman reached for it when she grew closer.

"I can put that in the saddlebag for you."

She beamed at him. "Thank you."

Securing the bag, he pivoted back to her, extending his hand to her. "And I can help you onto the horse."

Taking his offering, she felt a gentle squeeze and met his honey-brown eyes. "You're too kind."

"I may have ulterior motives."

She stepped up onto a small stool, and then lodged her foot into the stirrup and slung her leg over the horse in a few unsteady moves. Alistair closed in, hoping to keep her from falling off. Once she was settled, she released his hand and responded, "So, what motives might you have?"

He half-cringed, mounting his horse. "Well, I may have told Teagan that he could join us… for dinner. He had plans this afternoon and we're leaving tomorrow morning, so... I need to win back your favor."

Gwen smiled, concealing a twinge of disappointment. "It's fine."

"No, it isn't, but I didn't see any alternative."

"I promise, I'm not upset." Averting her eyes, she sought her gloves, tucked into her belt, but before she could put them on, she heard Alistair clear his throat, attempting to get her attention again.

"Just in case you are…" He'd led his horse next to her and held out a pair of crimson leather gloves, shiny and heavy with scent of leather oil. "Here."

Gwen took them from him, turning them over in her hands and slipping one of them onto her hand; they were a perfect fit, up to the elbow. Once the first glove was in place, it hummed against her skin and she shot her eyes up to Alistair. "Oh my goodness! They're enchanted."

The man laughed aloud, appreciating her exuberance at the simple thing. "With fire."

She looked at him sideways, with speculation. "Did you make these?"

"No, Dagna is the mastermind there. I gave them a good buffing though, so there's that. I was supposed to have them ready for your journey, but I got them done early."

"Thank you." Gwen was humbled as she sat flexing her hands in the new gloves, rethinking her disappointment. The charmer had succeeded in starting to win her back, if her favor was ever truly lost in the first place.

Placing his own gloves on his hands, he reached for the reins and beckoned her with the shrug of his shoulder. "Come on."

Amiably they trotted through the market and the eyes of every person they passed followed the pair curiously. If the couple had cared to notice, they would have heard soft whispers from the folk, but neither one of them fretted as they left the worries of Skyhold behind and ventured through the front gates.

.

"Do you like working in the Undercroft?"

Keeping his eyes on the road, he smirked. "Oddly, I do. Creating something gives me an incredible feeling. It's like an adventure."

"You're joking."

"Not one bit." He laughed joyfully, lifting his burgundy linen shirt to show her and in the process, gave her a fabulous view of his well-formed abdominal muscles. "See? I finished this belt this morning. Made it from some thick scrap. I even... engraved it a little."

Gwen looked, but didn't notice the belt. She flushed, smiling with delight. "But… an adventure?"

"Oh, yes. I stabbed myself with a needle twice yesterday and cut myself with a skinning knife the day before." He waved his gloved hand at her and winked. "I'll show you my battle wounds later."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." Beside her, she heard him chuckle with a deep and giddy reverberation. It was the best sound she'd heard in three full days, maybe more.

Alistair turned to her with a goofy smile. "I'm just as surprised as you are."

"Will you be sad to leave it behind when we go?"

Again, he laughed. "Despite my newfound hobby, I'm eager to be on the road again."

"I'm in agreement."

"Won't you miss home?"

"Yes, but..." She averted her eyes to the road ahead.

"But what?"

"Having you here has been distracting. I find it hard to separate my two mindsets. I'm amazed that you can do it, with the Calling, and still be fully functional." Cheeks flushed, she dared to look at him, and he grinned.

Still smiling, he responded by tapping his temple. "I've been practicing a lot longer than you."

Silenced by the subject of their conversation, Gwen began to look around at her surroundings for the first time. Guided by lampposts along the way, the road turned around a bend and the landscape changed as they set their eyes on the valley below. A walled enclosure around the village made it look small, nestled among the tall trees. The sun was setting over the mountains and the waters of the two conjoining rivers sparkled vividly as they flowed together as one. The river snaked its way toward the village in the Valley and then beyond.

Finished gazing at the horizon, Alistair peered over to Gwen, watching her face light up at the scene before them. The woman was beautiful in her innocence and, as usual, Leliana was a genius for mentioning the trip.

"This view is fantastic."

Honoring her excitement, he asked, "Do you want to stop for a moment?" Alistair pulled his horse to a halt, expecting her to do the same.

Gwen attempted to pull the horse to a stop, but she failed and let out a grunt of frustration when it bucked lightly.

He dismounted ahead of her and came to her side, grabbing the reins and guiding the horses to a nearby tree along the path. After they were tied to a low hanging branch, he moved to her side to do the gentlemanly thing and help her dismount.

Alistair stood there beside her horse, patting its neck gently. Then, he looked up to her with smiling eyes and an outstretched hand.

"Couldn't we just stay on the horses?" Gwen looked down to the ground, sighing. "I always use a stepping stool."

Teasing away her apprehension, he tapped her knee closest to him. "Just swing your other leg over, keeping this one in the stirrup, then drop that leg to the ground slowly."

Glaring with a doubtful eye, she exhaled loudly.

Noticing her uneasiness, he assured her, "I'm here to catch you, should you fall."

And of course, she did just that.

Gwen lost her balance and leaned too far on her foot, caught in the foothold. Verbalizing her dismay in a few short squeals, she felt him behind her, holding her waist as she was coming down and falling back against him. Her foot hit the ground roughly, rolling her ankle, but not to the point of pain. The only thing compromised was her steadiness.

"Easy." Alistair mumbled, his voice husky and achingly close to her ear. He stumbled back against her weight and slid his arm fully around her midsection to steady them both.

Gwen turned her head as they stood for a minute, unmoving. A thin scent of soap and leather came to her senses and she half released her weight against him, feeling his warm body behind her. For the briefest of moments, she wished he could stay flush against him, maybe for the entire rest of the day. He felt good, stable, and strong.

However, a few breaths later, she felt and heard him laughing, and turned her head back to the horse, realizing that her foot was still caught in the stirrup. The poor beast was beginning to pull away and worry itself with light huffs at her.

"Well, that was fun." He tilted his head, admonishing her clumsiness, but still holding onto her tightly. "You fall with such grace."

Recoiling from his grasp, she remarked with disgruntled tone, "Be kind. This is all new to me. There were no horses in the Circle, Alistair."

Once she felt steady on her foot, his warmth left her. "Hold onto my shoulder while I release your foot." After turning her ankle gently, her foot fell free.

"You really are collecting up the points, aren't you?"

"As many as I need to make tonight better for you."

"Being with you is enough."

A flash of concern crossed the man's features. "I hope so."

Cautiously, she smirked and spoke plainly. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Alistair's mouth jerked into an uncertain smile. "What kind?"

"One that I'm almost too embarrassed to share." With a sigh, she continued, "I've never been on a date before."

"Truly?"

"I said the Circle had little need for horses, well they had even less need for private outings, or romance."

"Right, the Circle: no horses, no privacy, and no dating. Sounds very dull."

"Dating, no, but there was… coupling galore."

Alistair lifted the corner of his mouth. "I've heard as much."

She held up her hands to stop his wandering thoughts. "Let me clarify: I was not doing the coupling, but I knew enough to stay out of the lower library in the evenings."

Alistair pondered this for a moment. "So, was Edmund your first…um, romance?"

"Yes." A shy smile passed over her lips, unsure of exactly what he was asking. "Have you had many… dates?"

"Not many, no." Alistair chuckled. "And I haven't caught the eye of a woman in some time."

Gwen laughed, meeting his honey-brown eyes with lingering mirth. "Maybe you just weren't paying attention."

Strolling around the tree, they again caught sight of the landscape and the village below, and were reminded of their destination. The sun was getting lower in the western sky and with haste, they'd make it to the tavern with time to spare.

.

With horses stabled, Gwen directed Alistair ahead of her, toward the tavern as she made use of the privy. All the way, she chided herself for drinking coffee throughout the day as a means to stay awake.

Pushing through the tavern doors, she was met by the sour scent of ale mixed with the hearty scent of roasting meat and other foods. Gwen immediately sought the source with hungry eyes, while simultaneously assessing the expansive room. The whole tavern was shaped like a large rectangle, and felt like a great-room of a hunting lodge.

Standing just inside the doors on one of two short walls, her gaze fell over everything. The roof was high and the beams open. There was no need for an inn with so many cabins and so the space above the rafters was open, save a small loft, across the building, opposite from where she stood. The fireplace at one long side of the room held a spit, and it looked like some type of large fowl was on the menu for the night.

The Inquisitor took a few steps into the hall.

Gazing up and spinning slowly, Gwen made a light gasp at the chandelier made entirely of antlers which hung high in the center of the space. Popping her eyes around she noticed in the far corner by the loft, a dark haired young man sat playing a soft melody on the lute. To her left, the bar ran half the length of the long side and was shiny and clean. There was a cheerful looking man wiping out a ceramic mug, who nodded to her as her eyes came across his. There were many tables, most of which were empty, but at each one was a lit beeswax candle and vase full of spring flowers. The light in the space was soft and warm.

Spanning the space again, her eye caught on her date, seated at a table with heavy wooden benches, near the huge hearth. He waved her over.

Before she sat, Gwen pulled her cloak to her back, revealing her hidden attire: a tanned leather corset over top of a lower-than-usual cut, cream linen blouse. The plunging neckline was done in delicate crochet lace which rested atop her modest-sized bosom.

Met with the view of her décolletage, Alistair tried to hide his obvious stare by reaching for his mug; he grabbed at it, coming up short by inches.

Then he overreached for it, knocking his hand into it clumsily and nearly tipping it over.

Using both hands, he steadied it and smiled up to the bewildered woman, resolutely locking his eyes on hers.

Get a grip.

He clenched his teeth to steel himself and forced himself to relax back on the booth bench. Then she scooted in next to him, close enough that he could smell her light floral perfume.

Maker's breath, that's good.

Deciding not to be distracted, Alistair pushed a ceramic beer stein toward her, blushing brightly. "I got you ale."

"Thank you." Humming with delight, she took a long sip and looked at him with a warm smile.

The man tried to make conversation, though distracted and trying not to stare down her blouse from his viewpoint. "I didn't know what you wanted to eat, so the barmaid will be back to list off what they have."

"Should we wait for Teagan?"

"Probably." Sighing, the man lifted his mug and drank deeply.

Afterwards, he eyed the room—not Gwen—attempting to calm himself down. "This is a nice place."

She lifted her foot from the floor and checked the bottom of her boot. "My feet don't even stick to the floor."

He chuckled. "The mark of a new tavern."

The pair fell into a silent assessment of the people and the tavern, feeling more at ease with every sip of ale and each moment immersed in the oddly enchanting atmosphere.

Well-dressed folks started coming into the tavern, and the noises of clanking mugs and soft conversations filled the space, adding to the ambience. The sun was setting outside, sending a dusky glow through the large windows. The barmaid went around with a tray full of lit candles in glass jars, placing two more on each table in preparation for sundown.

Several minutes later, their eyes fell on Teagan Guerrin, as he strolled into the room and found his party.

"Good evening." He bowed humbly at the pair, throwing his cloak over his shoulders and unclasping a golden domed brooch. A young brunette barmaid came to his side, taking the garment and flashing a tender smile to the Arl. "Thank you, Susanna."

Alistair and Gwen both stood at his arrival to their table, separating themselves, before greeting him with a handshake. The Warden wagged his eyebrows at his friend. "You've been here a day and you already know the staff?"

"It pays to be kind and to have an excellent memory, especially when it comes to those who are responsible for serving up your food." Teagan grinned, taking a seat across the table from them. "That's something my wife taught me, long ago."

Lifting his eyebrow, Alistair balked, "Your wife?"

The older man laughed aloud as the young barmaid returned with a tankard of ale. "We have much to catch up on."

.

The pair of men conversed at great length as Gwen watched, enraptured by the Grey Warden at her side. His mask had fallen almost completely away, and he wore his own personality with ease for the first time.

The man was youthful and inquisitive, asking his elder about his life and duty as Arl, stopping only when Teagan asked him a question or when filling his mouth with the delicious food served by the cook. Dinner and berry pie came and left, all the while the bar maid kept filling their mugs. Though sipping slowly, Gwen felt warm all over after her first two.

After dinner, the Inquisitor left the tavern to use the privy again, and on her way back, she peeked through the window. The men were still deep in conversation, so she strolled outside, relishing in the cool night air and enjoying the last bits of daylight fading from the sky.

In a moment of spontaneity, Gwen sat down on a bench outside the tavern and pulled out her personal journal. Scribbling the words in haste to fight the night closing in or perhaps because of the ale.

…

24 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon

The Valley

So much for a romantic date. If there ever was to be one. I suppose I was only hoping it would be so.

Sometimes, I dislike hope.

Though, I must give Alistair his due: he told me about Teagan beforehand and tried to make it up to me along the way. Oh, who am I kidding? Could anyone stay upset with that man?

And especially tonight: the way he looks so exuberant and juvenile, and charming. I admit, I'm enjoying the show.

I do wish I could have him all to myself tonight though.

What does Sera say about wishing in one hand… and something in the other? Oh, right. Well, I'm not writing that in my journal. Laughably crude.

There's plenty of time for getting to know him better in my travels.

Yes, tomorrow we're back on the road, with all that entails. Days of travel with him and little more to do than ride and talk... and determine what exactly this is.

Then, back to duty once we reach the Western Approach. Seeing Cassandra and Varric… and Hawke. And training… with Solas.

I must remember his warning. Even writing it in here could be dangerous if someone were to read it.

I only wonder about Solas' words and guesses. I wonder if I'll be able to sleep tonight. And if I do, what will happen?

…

As the light disappeared completely from the sky, lampposts outside were lit and she ducked back into the tavern to see the barkeep lighting large lanterns that hung along the walls indoors.

Walking with a fluid step, she saw that the lute player was joined by a young woman who played the flute, and the tunes turned lively, inspiring many in the crowd to begin dancing.

When she reached the table, there was a lull in their conversation and Alistair tilted his head, regarding Gwen for the first time since dinner. "Where did you go?"

"Just a short walk." She turned her body toward the doors, pointing. "The sun finally set."

"We've been talking for so long." Alistair moved over on the bench, patting the seat and flashing her a secret grin. He pushed her mug towards her, eyeing a bit of foamy ale in the bottom. "Here, have a seat and have another drink with us."

The Arl sipped his ale, aware of the time and portraying his remorse with apologetic eyes. "I'm deeply sorry; do you two have business?"

Stuttering, Alistair blushed. "No… nothing terribly important that it can't wait until we're on the road."

Teagan returned, meeting his eye with a hint of intrigue. "I'll be leaving tomorrow as well."

The Warden then looked between the two people before him, new questions on his mind. "What brought you here to meet with Gwen?"

Teagan turned to her with a lift of his eyebrow. "Am I allowed to tell him, Inquisitor?"

Her eyes scanned the room and satisfied, she nodded. "Keep it quiet as you do so."

After a deep breath, Teagan lost his former mirth. He lowered his voice until it could only be heard between the three of them. "Officially, I'm petitioning the crown to allow court mages to be placed among the nobility. Those who wish to board them will receive the benefits of such alliances in return. As a mage holding office, Lady Trevelyan's word holds sway, and she has graciously offered her full support."

Gwen smiled kindly, bowing her head to the Arl, and drinking the last swallow of her beer.

Teagan took a long draft of his ale and pressed his lips together in strife. "But unofficially, I'm bringing Connor home. Eamon misses the boy dearly."

Alistair's eyes jumped to Gwen. "Connor is here?"

The Inquisitor spoke, looking into her cup to see the last dregs of foam wash against the side. "He was. Leliana sent Connor and a few others out on a mission. They should return in a few days' time."

The Warden's eyes, full of suspicion, darted back to the Arl. "Are you sure that's wise?"

Gwen jerked her head to him, surprised. "Because of his brush with the demon? He was just a frightened boy, with no magical training, mind you."

Teagan chuckled diffusing the thin thread of tension, laying his hand over Alistair's forearm. "That was ten years ago and he hasn't had any incidents since. We've kept a careful eye on him."

Clearing his throat, Alistair quieted his voice. "I doubt the Queen will feel sympathetic given her exile of the mages in Ferelden, very recently."

In a sudden diplomatic tip of his head, Teagan straightened his spine. "The Inquisition took the mages in, thank the Maker, and I believe Anora owes them a debt of gratitude. Lady Trevelyan and Leliana told me everything that transpired in Redcliffe. The mages were not at fault. Anora acted rashly and in an uncharacteristic fashion."

"But how will you control the mages without Templars?" Alistair met Gwen's eyes. "What does Commander Cullen say about this?

Gwen intervened, imploring Alistair to understand. "It needs to be revealed… delicately. This new order of mages will need our support, and I'd gladly ally them with the Templars, but you know as well as I do, their order has been taken over by Corypheus. Too few of them are left to do as you say."

Teagan added his opinion. "We all need to start trusting one another again. This is one step in the right direction."

Knowing he wasn't going to win the argument and unwilling to spoil the evening, Alistair nodded, lifting his mug to take a deep swallow.

The Arl smiled at Gwen, thanking her silently for her fervor and defense. His eyes made an obvious turn to the window, seeing the dark sky. "Forgive me, both of you, it turned night without my knowledge, and I have commandeered the conversation with talk of the past and impolite topics."

"Think nothing of it. I'm enjoying listening for a change, especially when the topic turns toward Alistair here." Dreamily, Gwen gazed at him, as his brow furrowed in irritation. She smiled at him, despite his scorn, seeing his handsome profile through an ale-induced, amorous fog.

Her heavy-lidded eyes watched the Warden carefully, as she'd done all night.

Alistair drained his tankard, letting it fall to the table roughly. His eyes found her sage-green ones and a smile started, winking at her subtly, his dour demeanor melting away.

"Sweet Andraste." Teagan muttered, his brow creasing for a moment as he realized that the two before him were more than mere colleagues. "How stupid of me."

Alistair piped up, turning with surprise to his friend. "What?"

"I should have seen it right away. I beg you, forgive me for breaking apart your evening." The Arl laughed cheerfully, scooting to the edge of his seat. He shook his head dumbfounded and extended his hands, gesturing to them both. "When did… this happen?"

"Nothing has happened yet, Teagan." The Warden blushed and shook his head feverishly, tugging on his ear in nervous habit. "We only met a few weeks ago."

His bright blue eyes darted between the two of them, and he nodded, a satisfied look on his face.

The Warden rose, rounding the table, patting his bladder tenderly. "I fear the ale has had its effect… and I'll be back in a moment." He cut through the room and bounded out the door.

Gwen smiled timidly at the perceptive Arl. "How did you know?"

"The way you looked at him and especially, he at you." For a moment, his smile dropped. "Once upon a time, he looked that way at… someone else."

She nodded in understanding, a pinch coming to her stomach. "Surana."

Canting his head, his brow wrinkled. "He's told you about that already?"

Gwen blushed, "I ask a lot of questions, and he's an honest man, when duty doesn't interfere."

"He is that. Sometimes to his own blunder." Teagan laughed, turning his head as the music changed tune. "Did you tell you… everything of his past?"

"Some of it still lies unearthed." Intrigued by the inflection in his voice, she cast her eyes up, studying his composed expression. It might be considered bad form to ask about Alistair's parentage, but she had a sure feeling that Teagan knew the truth. "He's been reluctant to tell me about… his parents, especially his father, and though I know fragments, the whole story eludes me."

Teagan nodded, pursing his lips in thought. The Inquisitor had revealed her level of knowledge. "I cannot say, Lady Trevelyan, on my honor as Alistair's friend."

She nodded sheepishly.

"This type of talk isn't appropriate for a lady, not in the least." Then, he stood up, offering his hand to Gwen. "May I take the lovely maiden to the dance floor?"

She rose reluctantly, looking around to the patrons. The ale helped set the decision, and she consented with a curtsy. "I must warn you: I'm terrible at this."

"Well, you're in luck; I'm considered an expert." He winked suavely and pulled her arm under his as they glided to the middle of the room surrounded by people.

Teagan was shorter than Alistair, and she could almost gaze into his eyes as they floated across the tavern floor. He was an excellent dancer, even after several mugs of ale, and Gwen was thankful for his lead.

With a final flourish, the Arl spun her gently, guiding her with a hand on her lower back, then facing her as the music slowed.

"Let's do another." His hand found her waist, and he held her a modest distance away, smiling as she darted her eyes to the side.

It was clear to Gwen that the folks noticed the Inquisitor among them, and she hoped to the Maker that there wouldn't be rumors about her and the Arl. Just in case, she pushed him away from her a little more.

Teagan noticed and readjusted. "He can be stubborn."

"Alistair?"

"His life has never been easy. Despite that, he became the good man you see over there. Don't let him push you away." He turned them so that she could glance over his shoulder to see the young man sitting at the table, smiling at her across the distance.

"I've tried to keep him close, regardless of his opinion on the matter." Gwen blushed and looked down to her feet. "We're trying a friendship first."

Teagan chuckled, rolling his eyes slightly. "That man knows very little about romance, other than the chivalric stories every Ferelden youngster grows up hearing. You may have to shake his foundations a bit."

The woman lowered her eyes, smiling at the thought.

His grip tightened on her hand, causing her to meet his solemn stare. "Once he realizes what he has in his grasp, he'll walk through the void to be with you."

"I…" Gwen started, unsure of what to say.

"No response is necessary; go to him." He released her from his arms, gave a stately bow, and followed her off the dance floor.

When they arrived at the table, Teagan interjected for the last time. "This old man needs his rest. I bid you both goodnight and good luck on your journey."

Alistair rose to greet them and took the older man's outstretched arm. "It was good to see you, and thank you, for allowing our lives to catch up to the present."

"Let's not let ten years go by before our next encounter."

"Agreed."

.

Teagan had long since left and the pair of friends set their gazes to the dance floor, watching the twists, dips, and turns with simple, silent delight.

It wasn't that they were reluctant to entertain conversation, it was that they were unable. At first, they tried speaking, but the band had been joined by two percussionists who beat lowly on a skin drum and shook a wooden box which sounded as if it was filled with pebbles. They found it difficult to hear one another without drawing closer, which set about a whole different conundrum.

Gwen would watch Alistair's full lips move without knowing—or caring—what he was saying, and Alistair would notice how soft the skin of Gwen's cheek looked, or Maker forbid, steal a glance at her bosom. Their discourse would lull, but they'd stay close until one of them would feel the other's breath on their cheek and back away, exhaling and releasing a deep yearning into the open air.

So, they sat quietly at the table, each sipping their ale until at last, their tankards sat empty and there was nothing left to occupy the couple.

Gwen sat facing him, her elbow over the back of the bench. After what Teagan had said, she couldn't take her eyes from Alistair, now that they were alone.

"Do… you want to dance?"

Alistair turned to her and the corner of his mouth lifted. His eyes were just as dark and deep as she thought they'd be, and the light and shadow on his face made him look all the more enticing. Or maybe it was that last drink.

The man laughed. "I'm nowhere near as skilled as Teagan."

"No flourishes then." She giggled softly, pulling him up from the table. "I'm not sure if my fragile sense of balance could handle it anyway."

On the floor, he held her loosely, as he slipped his hand down to her waist. Her hand fit in the space between his shoulder and neck. Every touch between them was electric. The intensity was so strong that by the time they situated themselves, neither one could move more than a few shuffling steps.

"This is nice." Alistair leaned in, whispering into her ear, warming her to the ends of her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. She felt the flush of intoxication wash over her and she knew the ale was finally kicking in, full-force.

Gwen nodded, brushing against his cheek, unwilling to break the moment with the possibility of slurred words. He leaned back to gaze at her, his mouth forming a slow smile.

Stranger's eyes made their way from all corners of the tavern and landed on the pair as they drifted along with the music.

But Alistair and Gwen were in their own little realm. They stepped carefully beside one another's feet, moving with the slowed tempo of the music, which now seemed to echo from a great distance.

All the while, she kept at him with a longing stare, now unabashed by her obvious desire. The man took notice and creasing his brow, his grip strengthened on her waist as he inched her closer.

Gwen let out a soft moan, heavy with anticipation. It was drowned out to all ears but Alistair's. This only encouraged him to release her hand and tip her chin up to meet him.

His mouth was close, his breath was warm and rich with ale, and Gwen waited, closing her eyes to accept his first offered kiss.

But it didn't come. And then the music stopped for a long moment.

Alistair's hand fell, just as her eyes popped open. She tilted her head to one side.

"I, um, got carried away."

"It's okay." She murmured, still intoxicated by him and the ale. "We can wait, if you're not ready."

"It isn't that." The man smirked and looked at his feet to avoid her stare. "I'd prefer not to do this here."

Brazen, Gwen agreed. "Then why are we still standing here?"

.

Escaping from the tavern amid the whispering crowd and intervening drunken folk was easy with her bodyguard at her side. Gwen wished she'd learned a little stealth and perhaps balance from her rogue friends, as she stumbled half-drunk through the tavern doors, sighing loudly with relief.

Alistair held her arm protectively, directing them straight to the stables. He knew it was time to head back to Skyhold.

The half-moon shone above them, and illuminated the dark streets. Bold, Gwen dashed ahead of him, taunting him with a newfound giddiness. "I'll race you."

So, this is Gwen Trevelyan, drunk.

He barked out a laugh and jogged to meet her, but she only dashed away again. Rolling up his sleeves, he set out to increase his odds and dodged down a side alley, intending to reach the stable before her by a more direct route.

The man entered the building and stopped to gaze down the first row of stalls, lit by a couple oil lamps along the wall. The Inquisitor was not there, and he chuckled to himself triumphantly.

"What took you so long, old man?"

Her voice came from inside, but he couldn't pinpoint her exact location. "What's gotten into you?"

She'd climbed a stack of straw bales and ducked down as he walked toward her. "A few mugs of ale."

Disapproving, Alistair hummed while still trying to find her in the darkness.

"What else could I do, between listening to you and the Arl?"

"You could have joined in." Continuing to walk, he peeked around the corner, almost out of her sight.

"Oh, no, watching you relax and loosen up was worth a little inebriation."

With a deep exhalation, she landed on her feet behind him and closed in until she was near enough to touch him.

Alistair's keen senses heard the soft pad of her foot and the rush of breath that she tried to quell. He waited for her to step closer and pivoted with agility, taking her arms gently to keep her from dashing away again.

With a grin, he pulled her to his chest and lowered his voice, though his tone stayed playful. "I've been relaxing for three damn days."

She laughed, turning her head to the side. "Things will change again, don't you worry."

"I'm not worried." Gently, he touched her chin and turned her face back to him until she met his eye. "I'm ready for a change."

Leaning forward, he slowly and deliberately touched his full lips to hers and she opened her mouth in response, nipping his upper lip.

Gwen felt him smile against her and snake his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him and bringing his mouth over hers again softly, slipping his tongue in experimentally. Nibbling gently on her bottom lip, he then planted soft kisses along her jawline. Her hands, which hung loosely on his forearms, slid up, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his tunic. Her mind wondered what his skin felt like underneath; smooth or rough, warm or cool?

Delicately, she crept across his shoulders to his neck, and ran her hand under his collar, splaying her fingers underneath. Smooth and warm. A longing pang hit her stomach and she let out a soft, satisfied noise.

At that, she was pulled back into a passionate kiss, and advancing, he walked her backwards until she hit the stable wall. Her hands laid on his chest and she clutched his shirt.

"Sorry." With deep breaths, Alistair pulled a half-step away and braced himself on extended arms. He sent her an almost shameful stare. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Gwen shook her head, grinning in the low light. "I'm not that fragile."

The man grunted cheerily and tilted his head to the horses. "I should get you back home."

"I don't think I can ride… can we... stay in one of the cabins for the night?"

In a good-natured, cautious tone, he responded, "Not a good idea."

Gwen fell forward against him, pulling at the lacing of his shirt until she saw the light swath of chest hair. Quietly, she sighed. "I have this terrible feeling I'm going to fall off the horse."

"Then, you'll ride with me."

Gwen nodded, placated by his offer. "Ever the gentleman."

"Always."

.

Standing by the fire, Gwen pulled the kettle out with a thick pad to protect her hand from the heat. She dropped the loose tea leaves into a ceramic pot and poured the steaming water over it.

The scent of chamomile rose into the air and mingled with the wood smoke. Gazing at her guest, she smiled sweetly. "You look tired."

Reclining on her sofa, by the fire, Alistair ran his hand over his hair and chuckled. "I am."

Gwen perched on the arm of the sofa and stared into the busy flames of the fire. "Stay with me."

The man brought his hands over his face and sighed. "We can't—"

Gwen chuckled softly as she rose to pour a cup of tea for herself and Alistair. "That kiss was… incredible, but I'm not asking for anything else… physical right now."

"Well, I'm very out of practice with this sort of talk." Accepting the offered cup, he met her eyes and furrowed his brow. "How about you tell me exactly you are asking."

Dropping the smile, Gwen sat down next to him and peered at him with an imploring desperation. "I just don't want to be alone. I—I had another dream last night and I feel safe with you here." Thoughts of the Fade came to her and she wanted to tell him the truth, but she didn't dare. She blew the steam across the cup and took a test sip.

Alistair sipped the tea with a concerned brow. "Another shared dream?"

"It was just unsettling. Today, I thought I was okay with it, but in truth, I'm... afraid."

"Have you talked to Solas? He was supposed to figure this all out."

"He's still working on it."

Pausing, the man stared past her with narrowed eye, his thoughts returning to his conversation with the elf. He drank down the cup of tea, placing the empty mug on the side table. Then he met her sage-green eyes, he softened and put his hand on her knee, reassuring her. "I'll stay, but only until you fall asleep."

"Thank you," she let loose a sigh of relief and leaned into him, sipping her tea slowly.

Alistair put his arm over her shoulders and placed a light kiss on the top of her head. His eyes found the flames and deep in thought, he watched the wood smolder away.