There and Back - Chapter 176
I have to give credit for the characters of Larus and Arathea to an author whose work I can no longer find. They were inspired by Fadargen's "The Volunteer Slave", and while she did very different things with those characters, I was greatly inspired to include Larus and Arathea in my work.
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six: Low Intensity, High Reps
My hearing returned first. Everything remained black and fuzzy, as though I was floating through a cloud at midnight, but finally voices penetrated the darkness.
“...right?”
“I don’t…but the…promised!”
“…what if…not necessary…word.”
It was confusing; the words were jumbled, as though coming from very far away through an echo chamber. In the blackness, it didn’t even occur to me to wonder who the voices belonged to.
There was a long pause, in which I just started to ponder if I’d somehow gone deaf. The next voice irritated me for some reason I couldn’t remember, even as the words became more clear.
“…give to…sweet.”
“…She…love…afterall.”
“Yes, Fergus.” Fergus! I remembered Fergus. He was…he was… “More than anyone ever loved someone.”
There was a snort, which brought to mind a scarred face, dark hair, and a sneer. Then a door slammed, and I heard a sigh.
“You’re sure she’s just sleeping?” The words were becoming clearer, and I realised I knew that voice - Aedan. My brother.
“Seeing as I am capable of controlling which spells I cast, yes. I’m sure. She should wake soon.” That voice was less familiar, and I tried to frown as I thought about who it could be. The attempt brought the fact that I had a face - and that I could feel my face - to the forefront of my attention, so I missed the next words.
“You’re sure he will recover?” That got my attention: recover? As though someone was ill…I developed an urge to scratch my nose, something I knew I did when trying to remember things, a habit Alistair had teased me about more than once.
Alistair. Suddenly memories came rushing back: Crows, Dera, a ship…Alistair. A desperate attempt to heal a horrific injury. The next words seemed like they might be the most important words I’d ever hear.
“I’m not saying it will be easy. I’ve repaired his liver and the lacerated vessels, stopped the infection, but he lost a lot of blood, and had days worth of toxins building up in his tissues; I can’t just undo that, magic or not. If I’d been here sooner…but we can’t change that. It’s going to take time to work those out of his system, and then he will need time to need to repair the damaged and atrophied muscles. It’s going to be hard work, and probably painful for a while. And it was too late to do anything about the scarring - the potions, while they kept him alive long enough for you to bring me here, sealed the skin together rather…unfortunately.
“But for all that, look at him. His colour is back, and even in his sleep he’s clinging to her like rashvine. He’ll be fine.”
The realisation that Alistair was alright triggered a flood of tears even in my barely conscious state. I wanted to sob, really, and probably would have if I’d had any control over my body. It was more than I’d dared to hope for, despite Aedan’s promises. Combined with the knowledge that more than likely, I was the ‘she’ they were talking about, and that not only the healer, Larus, but also my brother were watching us sleep together, the rest of the world flooded back in. Suddenly I could feel the tears trickling down my face, the strong arms wrapped around me, the warmth of a large body pressed against me; I could smell the soap I’d used to wash Alistair while he was unconscious, and deeper, the scent that was unique to him - without the sickly undertone of illness that I hadn’t even registered before.
Opening my eyes was a challenge; they felt gritty and glued shut, and my eyelids were far heavier than two tiny bits of skin had any right to be. Before I managed it, I heard Aedan exclaim, and his warm hand wrap around mine.
“Sierra?”
The light was bright when I finally managed to pry my eyes open, and I blinked owlishly. “Really, everyone has got to stop drugging me, or spelling me to sleep. I mean it!” I scowled at my brother, and he burst out laughing, squeezing my hand, his voice strangely high and verging on hysteria.
“Thank the Maker!”
I smiled, always grateful for my sweet, caring brother - but I had other things that needed my urgent attention. So, I left him to his celebrating, as he turned and slapped Larus on the back rather harder than necessary, and instead I peered up at the warm, immobile shape of my husband - who was curled around me, his arms locked tightly around my torso, hugging me to him like I was a giant teddy bear and he a frightened toddler. His face was lax, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly, but his breaths came easily, his complexion was no longer yellow, and while he was definitely warm, there was no sign of the fever he’d suffered from for days. He was still covered in bandages, but he was beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my face into his neck, trying to suppress the tears prickling my eyes.
When I looked away, I found two pairs of eyes watching me - one set belonging to the aloof healer with an inscrutable expression, and the other warm and green and sympathetic. I focused on Larus.
“You’re sure he’ll be okay?” I caught myself petting my husband’s arm, and couldn’t bring myself to stop even when it was clear the mage was staring. At the sound of my voice, Alistair shifted and pulled me closer.
Larus nodded, a flash of irritation on his haughty features. “You heard what I said a few moments ago?” I nodded. He sneered. “Quite sure.”
I knew the tension coiled in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t relax until I saw Alistair awake with my own eyes, but something frozen inside me thawed at his stiff nod, and my eyes fluttered shut with tears of gratitude. “Thank you.”
I didn’t even hear them leave as I fell back asleep, curled in my husband’s arms.
When I woke the next time, I felt decidedly less wretched; my eyes weren’t burning, and my body felt distinctly corporeal, instead of distant and floaty. I was comfortable and warm, and someone was gently stroking my hair.
I opened my eyes and looked directly into a pair of gorgeous, hazel ones that I’d thought I might never see again. Alistair was smiling at me, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and I gasped as tears sprang to my eyes.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered. “No, no, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I choked, unable to decide whether to laugh or shout. “Of course I’m okay! I wasn’t the one who tried to get myself killed, you big jerk.” He laughed; I wanted to punch him in the shoulder, but remembering the healer’s words about muscle damage, I restrained myself. A tear escaped despite his words and my best efforts, rolling silently down my cheek; he tugged me towards him, and before I knew it our lips met.
It wasn’t a kiss of passion, like so many we’d shared, but despite that I could feel myself shuddering against him, my breath coming out in great sobs. He just held me, his lips brushing against mine gently over and over again until I’d cried out all of my fear, my hopelessness and guilt and despair flooding out of me with every tear. Finally I pulled away, sniffling. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry.” I could see he was telling the truth - stupid man that he was; rather than worrying about his own health, he was worried that he’d frightened me.
“I love you so much. You were so sick…”
He hushed me, his fingers in my hair soothing. His lips pressed kisses to my eyes, my nose, even my chin. “I love you too. Always.”
The two of us just laid there together, cuddling and kissing, until my bladder became a pressing issue I couldn’t ignore any longer. As I sat up, feeling stiff and a little sore, it became obvious that my discomfort was going to be the least of our worries. Alistair rolled onto his back and attempted to sit up - before flopping back down with a stifled cry and an oath.
“Alistair?” I leaned over him anxiously.
“Ow,” was all he seemed able to say, both arms crossed over his abdomen while he panted in pain.
I fluttered over him, feeling useless, too afraid to touch him, terrified of making it worse. He settled eventually and shot me an embarrassed smile, but that didn’t leave me feeling any better. “I’ll go get the healer.” I pushed up and then had to awkwardly climb over him; someone had clearly lifted me onto the bed and dropped me between Alistair and the wall, which was fine until I needed to get up. I moved slowly, carefully, terrified to hurt him.
Which, of course, triggered him to tease me, putting his hands on my hips and pursing his lips for a kiss - as though me on top of him was just what he was aiming for. I sputtered a laugh and climbed off, inelegantly, before rushing out to find Larus, bladder long forgotten.
I finally tracked the healer down in the galley with Aedan and Zevran; I accepted a long, relieved hug from my brother before begging Larus to come to our room. The healer stood and lifted a covered tray and a large water skin.
“I will go see him. Please stay here until I call for you.”
My mouth dropped open, shocked, but the healer was out the door and gone before I could even think of what I wanted to say to that. I looked to Aedan, who was apparently trying not to laugh, one hand covering his mouth.
“But…but…”
“Give the poor man some privacy, sis. He’ll be mortified enough when he realises you’ve been taking care of him while he was sick.”
“He did it for me!” I squawked, irritated.
Zevran, who’d yet to make eye contact or join the conversation, finally looked up at me with a wry grin. “But you are not a man, cara mia. You do not have any…” he trailed off in thought. “Machismo. Do you know this word? You do not have to protect your machismo, yes? Let the poor man have his pride.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just…stupid,” I complained. “Like him wiping my ass is somehow less embarrassing than me wiping his.”
Aedan turned purple and covered his ears in horror, and Zevran and I both burst out laughing. I finally sank down into a chair beside the elf, leaning my head on his shoulder and smiling at my brother. “I never said thank you.”
I felt Zevran stiffen, but Aedan just looked at me in confusion.
“For bringing Larus,” I clarified. “Alistair would have died without the both of you. I’ll never be able to say how grateful I am.”
I wasn’t surprised - just saddened - when Zevran pulled away from me and stood, clearly heading for the door.
I was faster, and I slid into his path before he could run away from me. “Zevran.” I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.” I put my arms out so that he’d literally have to shove me out of the way to escape. Aedan closed on him from behind, wrapping his arms around the former Crow.
Zevran slumped, refusing eye contact and spinning away from Aedan, an air of ‘don’t touch me’ so clear he might as well have screamed it. “It is entirely my fault, in fact.” He finally looked me straight in the eyes, and I could see the guilt, the pain, the self-recrimination written on his face clearly. “I left the Crows. And I was not strong enough to walk away before they came for you. All of you.” He turned, seeming to crumple in on himself. “I knew it would happen. I know what the Crows are like. I knew they wouldn’t stop, that they’d use you to get to me. I was selfish - and Alistair paid the price. You almost paid the price.”
I sighed, walking up behind the man I considered a brother, and put my hands on his shoulders, resting my forehead against his back. “You forget, Zevran - I knew too.”
He startled, but didn’t turn, so I continued. “I met you in the first game, it’s true - but you were in the second game, too.” I heard Aedan draw a quick breath, and wondered how it was possible I hadn’t mentioned this to him. I had to Zevran, though not in this much detail. “You were in Kirkwall, or just outside of it really, using yourself as bait to draw out one Crow cell after another and destroy them. Remember I told you, way back, when you asked why I was so confident that you and I couldn’t be together?”
I didn’t totally remember all of the details from the second game - I’d only played it once, after all - but I couldn’t forget flirting with the attractive elf with my Hawke, and Anders objecting strenuously.
“They implied - or maybe I read it somewhere? - that you eventually took down the entire leadership of the Crows. Maybe that was fanfiction - I don’t remember. But one way or the other, you’d taken out a bunch of individual assassins, and I, or my character, helped you kill a group who’d tracked you down with a Dalish clan near Kirkwall. I think…Nunio, or something?”
“Nuncio?” He sounded almost impressed.
“Yes, that’s it. Nuncio. But anyway,” I shook my head, dismissing my thoughts about the Crow Hawke had killed, “the point is that I knew, Zevran. I knew they wouldn’t leave you alone. I knew they’d chase you, and that we could be used against you. I didn’t tell Aedan or Alistair the details, but I told them the Crows would come for you.
“I. Don’t. Care.” I turned him towards me, and he complied, his expression guarded. “It was worth the risk to keep you with us. You are worth the risk. I’d do it again, fight a dozen stupid assassins if I had to - and so would Alistair, okay? I’m sorry he got hurt - and yes, it was awful thinking he might die - but it wasn’t your fault, and it doesn’t mean I regret having you with us. You’re my family, now, and the Crows can’t have you.”
“They only came here because of me. If I had just-”
“No!” I stomped my foot, irritated, trying to think how to phrase what I wanted to say.
Aedan stepped up and put one arm over my shoulders, reaching out for Zevran with his other hand. “The Crows bought you, trained you, tortured you, forced you to kill or be killed. Nothing they’ve done was ever your fault, including this. You should not be expected to give up your life or your freedom to try to change their reactions. You have the right to live, to find happiness, to have a family. None of that makes it your fault that they won’t let you go.
“I’d hoped you being a Warden would have changed their minds, but it doesn’t matter. I love you - we love you - and you’re not responsible for what they did.”
Zevran looked back and forth between me and Aedan, almost desperately. I could see the fear in his eyes - but also the hope. It killed me that he didn’t know how important he was to us - that he believed we would be better off without him. I could see the moment he finally accepted that we didn’t agree, and it was devastating. The burgeoning hope, the incredulous disbelief brought tears to my eyes.
Aedan’s hand was still extended, and I reached out as well, both of us finally grabbing his hands and pulling until he was in the middle of us, embraced on both sides. We both hugged him until he couldn’t breathe, tears streaming down my cheeks as he finally relaxed and hugged us back.
Aedan’s grip became more possessive, and I figured the two of them probably needed some couple time. Neither were particularly good at expressing their feelings, so I doubted they’d really talked, about this or anything else that was important. I squeezed them both one last time and then ducked out of the galley, leaving them alone.
I hadn’t been summoned - the mental eye roll for that was epic - back to Alistair’s bedside, so I ended up on the ship’s deck for the first time since the night we’d been attacked. We were in port, so rather than find my usual haunt, I stood at the rail watching everything happening below. The smell was obnoxious - fish, sewage, rot - but the sights made suffering until my nose adapted worth it. There were dozens of people on the docks, moving boxes, hooking things up to the hand-powered cranes that lifted items onto ships, dashing back and forth with an organisation that belied the chaotic, confused look of it. The other ships were interesting too; we were one of the largest, but several other similar vessels - and multitudes of smaller ones - were tied up at various piers, loading and unloading cargo at a frenetic pace.
When people watching became boring, I turned to see that Avanna had taken the place of the guard following me. I knew it was going to be hard on them - one of my guards had been killed and one was currently being held for judgement for her role in the attack - so my five had dwindled to three. It wasn’t ideal to be short on guards, especially when we were in strange places - and heading to a pirate island.
I smiled at the older woman, and she approached me with a respectful nod.
I sighed. “Might as well just get it over with.”
“My Lady?” Her expression wasn’t as confused as her reply would have implied.
“Out with it. I’m giving you this one chance - you’d best take advantage while you can.”
She used her hand to wipe a grin off her face, settling her features into a rather impressive scowl. “You should have told me you knew we had a spy in our midst.”
I nodded. “Probably. But I couldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t, you mean.”
I considered. “True, I suppose. Look, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, Avanna. I trust you.” I did, and I hoped she could see that I was telling the truth. “My source was entirely unreliable, to start with, and what I was warned about was that she was spying on me for the Teyrn. If the accusation had been untrue, it would have been terribly unfair to Dera to label her a traitor, not to mention the fact that I had nothing to hide from the Teyrn - and I wanted proof so I could confront Fergus myself. There wasn’t supposed to be any danger in it, just…family drama.”
Her thunderous expression didn’t change even a little.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“I notice you aren’t promising not to do something like that again.”
I winced. “I can’t, and you know it.”
She went silent, and we stood together looking down at the docks below us.
“I failed you.” Her voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear her.
“Avanna…”
“No. I chose her. Trained her, and I had no idea…”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect. She fooled all of us - because she had to. I don’t even blame her, not really.”
“And then when you were attacked, all I could do was pace and curse. I couldn’t protect you. It should have been me who took that blow, not the Commander.”
“No one could have predicted this. Not even our resident expert on the Crows knew they’d be this bold. And you were locked in the hold! I don’t blame you, and neither will Alistair.”
She shifted and fidgeted. “You know, most nobles would have had me fired - or executed - for this sort of thing.”
I grinned. “I think we’ve established that I’m not most nobles.”
Her answering smile was hesitant, but warmed my heart anyway. “You are not, and thank the Maker for that.”
I laughed, and we continued to stand companionably together for a while, waiting until I could go see my husband again.When Larus finally sent someone to get me, Avanna followed me and took her place outside the door looking significantly lighter than she had before, and I clapped her on the shoulder gratefully.
I went inside to find that Larus was still there, as were Aedan and Zevran. The room really wasn’t large enough for five adults, even with one in bed; I slipped between the men standing around and curled myself up on the foot of the bed to try to minimize the space I took up.
Alistair looked better than when I’d last seen him; he was dressed, washed, and sitting up against the pillows looking pretty comfortable. He still had bandages on his head, and I could see the bulk of more underneath his tunic. I was surprised - I’d changed the dressings enough to know that they were well-scarred over by now, and likely didn’t need to be covered anymore. I couldn’t reach his hand from my perch, but contented myself with rubbing my fingers over his calf, careful not to tickle. He grinned at me, and we both turned to face the three men standing in front of us.
“What’s up?” I asked. It was clear something was going on; the three of them looked like they were about to inform us someone had run over our puppy or something.
Aedan glanced at Zev and Larus, fidgeting, then turned back to us. “Larus tells us there’s nothing more he needs to do for Alistair - only time will help at this point.”
Larus cleared his throat - rather pompously, really. “Indeed. The tissue damage will take time and exercise to heal - I’d estimate a week to be functional, a month to return to your previous strength. The more you use the muscles the better - but without overloading them. Light weights only, increasing only as pain allows. The scar will remain painful but desensitization can help.”
He spoke only to Alistair, but I got the impression my husband had already heard this advice, so I guessed it was more for my benefit. I nodded like he wasn’t acting as though I didn’t exist. “Low intensity, high reps. Got it.” I’d never been a weight lifter, but one of my many, failed weight loss schemes over the years on Earth had been going to the gym. I’d hated it, but the lingo apparently stuck with me.
Aedan nodded like he knew what I was muttering about. “The captain is eager to leave Wycome, so we were thinking we could relocate to an inn in the city. We don’t want to go to Llomerryn with someone who appears weak, so we can stay there while you recover - at least a week.”
Alistair flushed and shifted in the bed. “You should just leave me there and go.” His voice sounded strained, though his expression showed nothing.
Aedan and I both jumped in, raising our voices almost involuntarily. “No!” “Not a chance.”
I glared at my husband, gripping his ankle tightly. “If you think I’m leaving you alone in Wycome, you’ve lost your sodding mind. We can afford to wait a week.”
Aedan nodded and cleared his throat. “It works out well, actually. Because while we’re waiting…Zevran and I can spend the time helping Larus find Arathea.”
The healer looked shocked, and I gathered Aedan hadn’t run this plan by him yet. My brother turned to Larus with a smile. “We did promise, after all, and I’m a man of my word.”
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six: Low Intensity, High Reps
My hearing returned first. Everything remained black and fuzzy, as though I was floating through a cloud at midnight, but finally voices penetrated the darkness.
“...right?”
“I don’t…but the…promised!”
“…what if…not necessary…word.”
It was confusing; the words were jumbled, as though coming from very far away through an echo chamber. In the blackness, it didn’t even occur to me to wonder who the voices belonged to.
There was a long pause, in which I just started to ponder if I’d somehow gone deaf. The next voice irritated me for some reason I couldn’t remember, even as the words became more clear.
“…give to…sweet.”
“…She…love…afterall.”
“Yes, Fergus.” Fergus! I remembered Fergus. He was…he was… “More than anyone ever loved someone.”
There was a snort, which brought to mind a scarred face, dark hair, and a sneer. Then a door slammed, and I heard a sigh.
“You’re sure she’s just sleeping?” The words were becoming clearer, and I realised I knew that voice - Aedan. My brother.
“Seeing as I am capable of controlling which spells I cast, yes. I’m sure. She should wake soon.” That voice was less familiar, and I tried to frown as I thought about who it could be. The attempt brought the fact that I had a face - and that I could feel my face - to the forefront of my attention, so I missed the next words.
“You’re sure he will recover?” That got my attention: recover? As though someone was ill…I developed an urge to scratch my nose, something I knew I did when trying to remember things, a habit Alistair had teased me about more than once.
Alistair. Suddenly memories came rushing back: Crows, Dera, a ship…Alistair. A desperate attempt to heal a horrific injury. The next words seemed like they might be the most important words I’d ever hear.
“I’m not saying it will be easy. I’ve repaired his liver and the lacerated vessels, stopped the infection, but he lost a lot of blood, and had days worth of toxins building up in his tissues; I can’t just undo that, magic or not. If I’d been here sooner…but we can’t change that. It’s going to take time to work those out of his system, and then he will need time to need to repair the damaged and atrophied muscles. It’s going to be hard work, and probably painful for a while. And it was too late to do anything about the scarring - the potions, while they kept him alive long enough for you to bring me here, sealed the skin together rather…unfortunately.
“But for all that, look at him. His colour is back, and even in his sleep he’s clinging to her like rashvine. He’ll be fine.”
The realisation that Alistair was alright triggered a flood of tears even in my barely conscious state. I wanted to sob, really, and probably would have if I’d had any control over my body. It was more than I’d dared to hope for, despite Aedan’s promises. Combined with the knowledge that more than likely, I was the ‘she’ they were talking about, and that not only the healer, Larus, but also my brother were watching us sleep together, the rest of the world flooded back in. Suddenly I could feel the tears trickling down my face, the strong arms wrapped around me, the warmth of a large body pressed against me; I could smell the soap I’d used to wash Alistair while he was unconscious, and deeper, the scent that was unique to him - without the sickly undertone of illness that I hadn’t even registered before.
Opening my eyes was a challenge; they felt gritty and glued shut, and my eyelids were far heavier than two tiny bits of skin had any right to be. Before I managed it, I heard Aedan exclaim, and his warm hand wrap around mine.
“Sierra?”
The light was bright when I finally managed to pry my eyes open, and I blinked owlishly. “Really, everyone has got to stop drugging me, or spelling me to sleep. I mean it!” I scowled at my brother, and he burst out laughing, squeezing my hand, his voice strangely high and verging on hysteria.
“Thank the Maker!”
I smiled, always grateful for my sweet, caring brother - but I had other things that needed my urgent attention. So, I left him to his celebrating, as he turned and slapped Larus on the back rather harder than necessary, and instead I peered up at the warm, immobile shape of my husband - who was curled around me, his arms locked tightly around my torso, hugging me to him like I was a giant teddy bear and he a frightened toddler. His face was lax, his mouth slightly open as he snored softly, but his breaths came easily, his complexion was no longer yellow, and while he was definitely warm, there was no sign of the fever he’d suffered from for days. He was still covered in bandages, but he was beautiful, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my face into his neck, trying to suppress the tears prickling my eyes.
When I looked away, I found two pairs of eyes watching me - one set belonging to the aloof healer with an inscrutable expression, and the other warm and green and sympathetic. I focused on Larus.
“You’re sure he’ll be okay?” I caught myself petting my husband’s arm, and couldn’t bring myself to stop even when it was clear the mage was staring. At the sound of my voice, Alistair shifted and pulled me closer.
Larus nodded, a flash of irritation on his haughty features. “You heard what I said a few moments ago?” I nodded. He sneered. “Quite sure.”
I knew the tension coiled in the pit of my stomach wouldn’t relax until I saw Alistair awake with my own eyes, but something frozen inside me thawed at his stiff nod, and my eyes fluttered shut with tears of gratitude. “Thank you.”
I didn’t even hear them leave as I fell back asleep, curled in my husband’s arms.
When I woke the next time, I felt decidedly less wretched; my eyes weren’t burning, and my body felt distinctly corporeal, instead of distant and floaty. I was comfortable and warm, and someone was gently stroking my hair.
I opened my eyes and looked directly into a pair of gorgeous, hazel ones that I’d thought I might never see again. Alistair was smiling at me, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and I gasped as tears sprang to my eyes.
“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered. “No, no, don’t cry. It’s okay. You’re okay.”
I choked, unable to decide whether to laugh or shout. “Of course I’m okay! I wasn’t the one who tried to get myself killed, you big jerk.” He laughed; I wanted to punch him in the shoulder, but remembering the healer’s words about muscle damage, I restrained myself. A tear escaped despite his words and my best efforts, rolling silently down my cheek; he tugged me towards him, and before I knew it our lips met.
It wasn’t a kiss of passion, like so many we’d shared, but despite that I could feel myself shuddering against him, my breath coming out in great sobs. He just held me, his lips brushing against mine gently over and over again until I’d cried out all of my fear, my hopelessness and guilt and despair flooding out of me with every tear. Finally I pulled away, sniffling. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry.” I could see he was telling the truth - stupid man that he was; rather than worrying about his own health, he was worried that he’d frightened me.
“I love you so much. You were so sick…”
He hushed me, his fingers in my hair soothing. His lips pressed kisses to my eyes, my nose, even my chin. “I love you too. Always.”
The two of us just laid there together, cuddling and kissing, until my bladder became a pressing issue I couldn’t ignore any longer. As I sat up, feeling stiff and a little sore, it became obvious that my discomfort was going to be the least of our worries. Alistair rolled onto his back and attempted to sit up - before flopping back down with a stifled cry and an oath.
“Alistair?” I leaned over him anxiously.
“Ow,” was all he seemed able to say, both arms crossed over his abdomen while he panted in pain.
I fluttered over him, feeling useless, too afraid to touch him, terrified of making it worse. He settled eventually and shot me an embarrassed smile, but that didn’t leave me feeling any better. “I’ll go get the healer.” I pushed up and then had to awkwardly climb over him; someone had clearly lifted me onto the bed and dropped me between Alistair and the wall, which was fine until I needed to get up. I moved slowly, carefully, terrified to hurt him.
Which, of course, triggered him to tease me, putting his hands on my hips and pursing his lips for a kiss - as though me on top of him was just what he was aiming for. I sputtered a laugh and climbed off, inelegantly, before rushing out to find Larus, bladder long forgotten.
I finally tracked the healer down in the galley with Aedan and Zevran; I accepted a long, relieved hug from my brother before begging Larus to come to our room. The healer stood and lifted a covered tray and a large water skin.
“I will go see him. Please stay here until I call for you.”
My mouth dropped open, shocked, but the healer was out the door and gone before I could even think of what I wanted to say to that. I looked to Aedan, who was apparently trying not to laugh, one hand covering his mouth.
“But…but…”
“Give the poor man some privacy, sis. He’ll be mortified enough when he realises you’ve been taking care of him while he was sick.”
“He did it for me!” I squawked, irritated.
Zevran, who’d yet to make eye contact or join the conversation, finally looked up at me with a wry grin. “But you are not a man, cara mia. You do not have any…” he trailed off in thought. “Machismo. Do you know this word? You do not have to protect your machismo, yes? Let the poor man have his pride.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s just…stupid,” I complained. “Like him wiping my ass is somehow less embarrassing than me wiping his.”
Aedan turned purple and covered his ears in horror, and Zevran and I both burst out laughing. I finally sank down into a chair beside the elf, leaning my head on his shoulder and smiling at my brother. “I never said thank you.”
I felt Zevran stiffen, but Aedan just looked at me in confusion.
“For bringing Larus,” I clarified. “Alistair would have died without the both of you. I’ll never be able to say how grateful I am.”
I wasn’t surprised - just saddened - when Zevran pulled away from me and stood, clearly heading for the door.
I was faster, and I slid into his path before he could run away from me. “Zevran.” I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.” I put my arms out so that he’d literally have to shove me out of the way to escape. Aedan closed on him from behind, wrapping his arms around the former Crow.
Zevran slumped, refusing eye contact and spinning away from Aedan, an air of ‘don’t touch me’ so clear he might as well have screamed it. “It is entirely my fault, in fact.” He finally looked me straight in the eyes, and I could see the guilt, the pain, the self-recrimination written on his face clearly. “I left the Crows. And I was not strong enough to walk away before they came for you. All of you.” He turned, seeming to crumple in on himself. “I knew it would happen. I know what the Crows are like. I knew they wouldn’t stop, that they’d use you to get to me. I was selfish - and Alistair paid the price. You almost paid the price.”
I sighed, walking up behind the man I considered a brother, and put my hands on his shoulders, resting my forehead against his back. “You forget, Zevran - I knew too.”
He startled, but didn’t turn, so I continued. “I met you in the first game, it’s true - but you were in the second game, too.” I heard Aedan draw a quick breath, and wondered how it was possible I hadn’t mentioned this to him. I had to Zevran, though not in this much detail. “You were in Kirkwall, or just outside of it really, using yourself as bait to draw out one Crow cell after another and destroy them. Remember I told you, way back, when you asked why I was so confident that you and I couldn’t be together?”
I didn’t totally remember all of the details from the second game - I’d only played it once, after all - but I couldn’t forget flirting with the attractive elf with my Hawke, and Anders objecting strenuously.
“They implied - or maybe I read it somewhere? - that you eventually took down the entire leadership of the Crows. Maybe that was fanfiction - I don’t remember. But one way or the other, you’d taken out a bunch of individual assassins, and I, or my character, helped you kill a group who’d tracked you down with a Dalish clan near Kirkwall. I think…Nunio, or something?”
“Nuncio?” He sounded almost impressed.
“Yes, that’s it. Nuncio. But anyway,” I shook my head, dismissing my thoughts about the Crow Hawke had killed, “the point is that I knew, Zevran. I knew they wouldn’t leave you alone. I knew they’d chase you, and that we could be used against you. I didn’t tell Aedan or Alistair the details, but I told them the Crows would come for you.
“I. Don’t. Care.” I turned him towards me, and he complied, his expression guarded. “It was worth the risk to keep you with us. You are worth the risk. I’d do it again, fight a dozen stupid assassins if I had to - and so would Alistair, okay? I’m sorry he got hurt - and yes, it was awful thinking he might die - but it wasn’t your fault, and it doesn’t mean I regret having you with us. You’re my family, now, and the Crows can’t have you.”
“They only came here because of me. If I had just-”
“No!” I stomped my foot, irritated, trying to think how to phrase what I wanted to say.
Aedan stepped up and put one arm over my shoulders, reaching out for Zevran with his other hand. “The Crows bought you, trained you, tortured you, forced you to kill or be killed. Nothing they’ve done was ever your fault, including this. You should not be expected to give up your life or your freedom to try to change their reactions. You have the right to live, to find happiness, to have a family. None of that makes it your fault that they won’t let you go.
“I’d hoped you being a Warden would have changed their minds, but it doesn’t matter. I love you - we love you - and you’re not responsible for what they did.”
Zevran looked back and forth between me and Aedan, almost desperately. I could see the fear in his eyes - but also the hope. It killed me that he didn’t know how important he was to us - that he believed we would be better off without him. I could see the moment he finally accepted that we didn’t agree, and it was devastating. The burgeoning hope, the incredulous disbelief brought tears to my eyes.
Aedan’s hand was still extended, and I reached out as well, both of us finally grabbing his hands and pulling until he was in the middle of us, embraced on both sides. We both hugged him until he couldn’t breathe, tears streaming down my cheeks as he finally relaxed and hugged us back.
Aedan’s grip became more possessive, and I figured the two of them probably needed some couple time. Neither were particularly good at expressing their feelings, so I doubted they’d really talked, about this or anything else that was important. I squeezed them both one last time and then ducked out of the galley, leaving them alone.
I hadn’t been summoned - the mental eye roll for that was epic - back to Alistair’s bedside, so I ended up on the ship’s deck for the first time since the night we’d been attacked. We were in port, so rather than find my usual haunt, I stood at the rail watching everything happening below. The smell was obnoxious - fish, sewage, rot - but the sights made suffering until my nose adapted worth it. There were dozens of people on the docks, moving boxes, hooking things up to the hand-powered cranes that lifted items onto ships, dashing back and forth with an organisation that belied the chaotic, confused look of it. The other ships were interesting too; we were one of the largest, but several other similar vessels - and multitudes of smaller ones - were tied up at various piers, loading and unloading cargo at a frenetic pace.
When people watching became boring, I turned to see that Avanna had taken the place of the guard following me. I knew it was going to be hard on them - one of my guards had been killed and one was currently being held for judgement for her role in the attack - so my five had dwindled to three. It wasn’t ideal to be short on guards, especially when we were in strange places - and heading to a pirate island.
I smiled at the older woman, and she approached me with a respectful nod.
I sighed. “Might as well just get it over with.”
“My Lady?” Her expression wasn’t as confused as her reply would have implied.
“Out with it. I’m giving you this one chance - you’d best take advantage while you can.”
She used her hand to wipe a grin off her face, settling her features into a rather impressive scowl. “You should have told me you knew we had a spy in our midst.”
I nodded. “Probably. But I couldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t, you mean.”
I considered. “True, I suppose. Look, it doesn’t have anything to do with you, Avanna. I trust you.” I did, and I hoped she could see that I was telling the truth. “My source was entirely unreliable, to start with, and what I was warned about was that she was spying on me for the Teyrn. If the accusation had been untrue, it would have been terribly unfair to Dera to label her a traitor, not to mention the fact that I had nothing to hide from the Teyrn - and I wanted proof so I could confront Fergus myself. There wasn’t supposed to be any danger in it, just…family drama.”
Her thunderous expression didn’t change even a little.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“I notice you aren’t promising not to do something like that again.”
I winced. “I can’t, and you know it.”
She went silent, and we stood together looking down at the docks below us.
“I failed you.” Her voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear her.
“Avanna…”
“No. I chose her. Trained her, and I had no idea…”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect. She fooled all of us - because she had to. I don’t even blame her, not really.”
“And then when you were attacked, all I could do was pace and curse. I couldn’t protect you. It should have been me who took that blow, not the Commander.”
“No one could have predicted this. Not even our resident expert on the Crows knew they’d be this bold. And you were locked in the hold! I don’t blame you, and neither will Alistair.”
She shifted and fidgeted. “You know, most nobles would have had me fired - or executed - for this sort of thing.”
I grinned. “I think we’ve established that I’m not most nobles.”
Her answering smile was hesitant, but warmed my heart anyway. “You are not, and thank the Maker for that.”
I laughed, and we continued to stand companionably together for a while, waiting until I could go see my husband again.When Larus finally sent someone to get me, Avanna followed me and took her place outside the door looking significantly lighter than she had before, and I clapped her on the shoulder gratefully.
I went inside to find that Larus was still there, as were Aedan and Zevran. The room really wasn’t large enough for five adults, even with one in bed; I slipped between the men standing around and curled myself up on the foot of the bed to try to minimize the space I took up.
Alistair looked better than when I’d last seen him; he was dressed, washed, and sitting up against the pillows looking pretty comfortable. He still had bandages on his head, and I could see the bulk of more underneath his tunic. I was surprised - I’d changed the dressings enough to know that they were well-scarred over by now, and likely didn’t need to be covered anymore. I couldn’t reach his hand from my perch, but contented myself with rubbing my fingers over his calf, careful not to tickle. He grinned at me, and we both turned to face the three men standing in front of us.
“What’s up?” I asked. It was clear something was going on; the three of them looked like they were about to inform us someone had run over our puppy or something.
Aedan glanced at Zev and Larus, fidgeting, then turned back to us. “Larus tells us there’s nothing more he needs to do for Alistair - only time will help at this point.”
Larus cleared his throat - rather pompously, really. “Indeed. The tissue damage will take time and exercise to heal - I’d estimate a week to be functional, a month to return to your previous strength. The more you use the muscles the better - but without overloading them. Light weights only, increasing only as pain allows. The scar will remain painful but desensitization can help.”
He spoke only to Alistair, but I got the impression my husband had already heard this advice, so I guessed it was more for my benefit. I nodded like he wasn’t acting as though I didn’t exist. “Low intensity, high reps. Got it.” I’d never been a weight lifter, but one of my many, failed weight loss schemes over the years on Earth had been going to the gym. I’d hated it, but the lingo apparently stuck with me.
Aedan nodded like he knew what I was muttering about. “The captain is eager to leave Wycome, so we were thinking we could relocate to an inn in the city. We don’t want to go to Llomerryn with someone who appears weak, so we can stay there while you recover - at least a week.”
Alistair flushed and shifted in the bed. “You should just leave me there and go.” His voice sounded strained, though his expression showed nothing.
Aedan and I both jumped in, raising our voices almost involuntarily. “No!” “Not a chance.”
I glared at my husband, gripping his ankle tightly. “If you think I’m leaving you alone in Wycome, you’ve lost your sodding mind. We can afford to wait a week.”
Aedan nodded and cleared his throat. “It works out well, actually. Because while we’re waiting…Zevran and I can spend the time helping Larus find Arathea.”
The healer looked shocked, and I gathered Aedan hadn’t run this plan by him yet. My brother turned to Larus with a smile. “We did promise, after all, and I’m a man of my word.”