a midwinter's thaw, chapter 81
so tired. so very. but: so friday. Here: have a chapter!
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 81
Author(s): pagerunner_j and the hip, the happening, the totally groovy w0rdinista
Characters: Alistair, Elinora Cousland, and a slowly-growing cast of thousands
Rating: T
Pairing: Cousland/Alistair
Summary: It's eight years after the Archdemon's defeat, eight years after Loghain's heroic death on the top of Fort Drakon, and eight years after Alistair stormed out of the Landsmeet, never to be seen again. It's five years since Elinora took up the mantle of teyrna of Highever after Fergus remarried and became King in the process. Now Alistair and Elinora are back together in Highever, with trouble brewing all around. The royal family has come to visit, three more Wardens are in attendance, and the Wardens' worrying dreams have returned, along with even greater troubles and tragedies. The battle is over and it's time to heal, and to catch up with a few loved ones who'd had to stay behind...
---
Elinora watched Nathaniel rush down the stairs, heedless of everything else going on around him - hurrying forward and clutching Mikarra tightly with his good arm. Elinora walked as quickly as she dared, favoring her injury, but as she got closer she saw Mikarra -- still holding Ser Pounce-a-Lot -- embrace Nathaniel, one slender arm sliding around his body as he held her. That made Elinora stop entirely. Despite taking place in the courtyard with dozens of bustling knights, squires, and servants around them, the moment was an intensely private one - one which Elinora was loath to interrupt. Instead, she waited by the base of the stairs, watching from a safe distance.
The two held each other for a long, long moment, sharing a lingering kiss, and even after they pulled away a bit, their heads were bent in private conference. Mikarra’s hand came to rest on Nathaniel’s injured shoulder. She said something, but he shook his head. Elinora wondered if perhaps now Nathaniel might be more inclined to seek the advice of a healer.
Then he seemed to notice the state of her dress, and Elinora heard his faint exclamation. He looked as if he wanted more than anything to sweep Mikarra up into his arms to get her out of the snow. Mikarra smiled to ease his frustration, though, and tucked under his good arm as he walked her carefully back to the stairs.
"Elinora," Nathaniel said upon approach. His voice was trembling with lingering tension, but also the beginnings of profound relief. "Would you be so good as to tell my mad beloved that walking barefoot and barely clothed in the snow is a certain path to the death we were trying to avoid?"
Elinora ventured a smile. Mikarra returned it, but with a sheepish dip of her head. Elinora took a moment to watch the mage's movements more closely. She seemed even smaller than Elinora remembered, but that may well have been due to the billowing nightgown she wore. Pounce's tail flicked as he slept, cradled in her arm. He looked thin, too, and there was a faint brush of silver around his whiskers that hadn't been there before. Whatever might have transpired to wake Mikarra, it had surely not come easily.
She wondered, though, if it was possible that Korath's death was what finally released Mikarra from her unnatural slumber. Elinora knew something about magic, simply through years of observation, but what she knew about blood magic -- let alone Korath's particular brand of spells -- was scarce indeed. But if his creations began to falter and fall without him, perhaps his demise was also enough to wake Mikarra.
As Elinora puzzled it over, Mikarra's expression subtly changed. When she spoke it echoed Elinora's thoughts.
"Korath is dead," Mikarra said, without any hint of a question. Slowly, Elinora nodded.
"He is. We returned…" she looked at the sky -- it was proper morning now, but Elinora still had no idea how long she'd been asleep. "We returned some hours ago." Her pause was brief but diplomatic as she went on to ask: "How did you…?"
Mikarra looked up, and Elinora caught her breath. Elinora saw that Mikarra's already pale eyes almost seemed to be lit with a strange, otherworldly kind of light. The mage had already possessed a fairly strong connection to the Fade, and Elinora couldn't help but wonder if Mikarra's recent visit to the Fade had left her with any new abilities -- she didn't know how mages acquired new skills, but it certainly seemed possible. Something to ask Anders later, she decided.
Mikarra blinked as if to mask the strangeness, and the light faded.
"Korath… passed me briefly in the Fade," she replied. "I have a feeling I knew what his presence there meant even before he did. He… didn't want to believe it, I think." Her brows furrowed faintly. Elinora only nodded; her own experiences with the Fade had been enough to leave her intimately acquainted with the confusion and disorientation of the place -- and Korath wouldn't be the type to accept it easily.
"What… will become of him, then?" Nathaniel asked warily.
Mikarra looked unaccountably sad for a moment, doubtless remembering the boy she'd known in childhood. "A harsh future, no matter what path he takes," she said. "He'll most likely either become a Fade demon, or become a minion for one."
"Either sounds grim," Elinora said quietly.
"And either may break him," Mikarra replied. "But… either might also give him a different sort of power. I only hope he stays bound there, too deep to do any harm. I can only imagine, if some poor mage on his Harrowing ever meets him, with his hunger…." She trailed off. Shadows flickered in her expression. "I may yet have to follow him in someday."
Nathaniel's arm tightened around her, and he shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Not now. Not even soon."
"Nathaniel--"
"Whatever's left of him is weak, Mikarra, and he's surrounded by creatures even fouler than him -- they'll see him for what he is. They'll deal with him. It's what he deserves. Forget him, Mikarra. Stay with us and mend."
Mikarra nodded slowly, but she met Elinora's eyes, not Nathaniel's. The expression was all too knowing. Elinora had just been thinking of how grateful she was -- for so many reasons -- that Alistair had lived through the encounter with Korath, because in those grief-sick moments when she thought he might not have lived, she would have been willing to do whatever was necessary to plunge into the Fade herself and chase whatever was left of Korath to its ends to get her revenge. Mikarra had just as many reasons to do the same, and she knew better than anyone what might yet be possible.
The thought made her shiver. Still, Elinora gave her head a brisk shake, clearing it. Highever and her family were safe. Focus on that, she told herself. And Nathaniel will help her. It'll be all right.
Pounce made a small, sleepy rumble, bringing them all back to the present. Elinora watched Mikarra adjust the cat in her arms, then she glanced even lower, seeing the tiny patches of melted snow around Mikarra's feet. "In the meantime, I have a much more pressing question, I'm afraid," Elinora said.
"Yes, Comman-- um, Elinora?"
Elinora's lips twitched at the young woman's slip. "Why in the Maker's name did you leave your quarters without a cloak or slippers?"
Mikarra ducked her head, looking sheepish again. "I realized what it meant -- that I was awake. I had to come." She glanced up at Nathaniel. "I needed to see everyone."
"Indeed," Elinora replied evenly, making no comment about how Mikarra's look made it quite, quite plain exactly who she needed to see most. "Well, as you can see, we are… recovering. There are injuries, of course," Elinora added, her eyes flicking to Nathaniel's shoulder. "For the time being, I would recommend you get inside before you catch your death of cold."
"As I was trying to tell you some time ago," Nathaniel told Mikarra, smiling a little. The warmth of it went a long way toward lessening the cold. "I could walk you back…."
Mikarra, obviously sensing where he was going with this, leaned closer. "Yes," she said. "But first -- I need to see Ser Pounce-a-Lot back to his rightful owner." She gave a small laugh as she gave the cat a gentle scratch behind the ears. "I think he misses Anders."
"To tell you the truth," Elinora said, "I think the feeling has been mutual."
"And if we're going to be entirely honest," Nathaniel said, looking around briefly as if to make sure Anders wasn't eavesdropping anywhere nearby, "I think I rather missed the cat." Mikarra smiled up at him and he grimaced. "If you please, don't tell Anders. He'll never let me hear the end of it."
Elinora chuckled. "Here -- at least let me take him for you. You can come in if you like, too, but I think Anders is still asleep."
"That's all right. I just want to see the others… know for sure…."
Elinora nodded, then took Pounce's warm, furry form into her arms, feeling the cat settle against her chest and purr softly. Mikarra still stood steady at Nathaniel's side. Elinora breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see it, for as insistent as Pounce had been about not leaving Mikarra's side, this was solid proof indeed that she was on the mend.
"Everyone's right through here," Elinora said, returning to the door and nudging it open with her hip. Nathaniel and Mikarra followed, while Elinora rubbed Pounce's chin gently.
"I know someone who'll be very glad to have you back," she murmured. The cat only blinked sleepily at her.
Elinora thought about him, inevitably, as they walked past the various beds on the way to their destination. They'd never tried to pull apart and understand just what it was Pounce did; they all merely accepted his unique gifts as that: a gift. But now Elinora couldn't help but wonder precisely how he did all that he did. It was his presence that had kept Mikarra stable. Having Pounce along on countless missions had always resulted in healthy and whole returns to the Keep. In comparison to all these scrapes and breaks and burns around them, the extent of Pounce's strange abilities was suddenly impossible to ignore.
She shook her head slowly, looking into those deep yellow eyes.
"What are you?" she breathed. Pounce looked at her for a long moment -- and for a mad instant Elinora thought he looked as if he were deciding whether or not to answer her -- then finally lifted his head and rubbed it against her chin.
Talking to the cat now, she thought, shaking her head. Rather glad Anders wasn't around to hear that little exchange.
Mikarra, at least, didn't notice the exchange either, because her attention was riveted by the patients around her. When they passed Markham's cot, Elinora saw that Adeline had just disappeared -- probably in search of yet more potions materials -- but she'd obviously already given Markham something soothing; he'd relaxed into a more natural sleep, and the redness on his skin seemed somewhat fainter. Indeed, the whole surrounding space seemed to be more under control now, and the pages who were running about on errands even looked calmer. Still, Mikarra shook her head in some awe. "All of this happened while I was…under?" she whispered. "If only I'd--"
"Ssh," Nathaniel said. "It's all right."
Mikarra, who was staring now at Allan with wide eyes -- and Elinora could only imagine what she was seeing there -- didn't agree or disagree, but she let herself be led the rest of the way to Anders' bed.
The mage in question was still curled on his side, sleeping quite soundly on his cot. Alistair was drowsing again, too. Still favoring her foot, Elinora picked her way across the room to Anders' bedside, and very, very gently set the cat down onto the cot, trying to be quiet enough not to disturb either man.
"He's healing well, I'm told," Nathaniel was telling Mikarra, nodding in Alistair's direction. "He and Elinora took Korath down at the end. It was…." He paused, his lips tilted wryly. "Dramatic."
"You're giving me too much credit," Elinora said, while Ser Pounce-a-Lot stretched, leaning forward and arching his back as the tip of his tail curled. Then he slunk beneath Anders' outstretched arm, and curled contentedly against the mage's chest. Nathaniel, a little less relaxed about things, snorted.
"Our esteemed commander," he said, ignoring her reaction to the title. "Self-effacing to a fault."
"And Anders?" Mikarra asked, easing into a seat close by his side with Nathaniel's help. "What of him?"
"We wouldn't have made it without him," Elinora said. "He'll be fine. He's just…over-extended, a bit. Needs the rest."
Mikarra nodded and reached across to pet Pounce again. He closed his eyes and began to purr -- a low, velvety sound that seemed to make Anders relax even further.
Conversely, though, Alistair began to stir. Elinora heard his blankets rustle, and looked up in time to see a puzzled, if not outright worried, expression cross his face. "I thought," he said muzzily, "that the cat was with Mikarra…"
They all turned to face him. Alistair was still struggling to sit up properly, so he hadn't seen everyone yet. Elinora went to Alistair, reaching for extra pillows to help prop him up. Mikarra was, as it turned out, the first to answer:
"I brought him back," she said.
Between the surprise and Elinora's assistance, Alistair suddenly sat up much more quickly. "Mikarra," he said, still blinking hard to focus, or as if in disbelief. "You're awake --"
"We're all here," Elinora confirmed. "All the Wardens."
"All awake and accounted for except for sleepybones here, at any rate," said Nathaniel, giving Anders a teasing nudge. Alistair laughed quietly, his eyebrows still raised and his smile tilted with a mix of shock and profound relief.
"All of us," Alistair said. "Thank the Maker."
"Thank us, for doing our jobs," another voice mumbled. Elinora looked down to see Anders, whose eyes were still shut. He was grumbling into his pillow. "'xcept… no thanks to you for waking me up…."
Pounce snorted and nosed in closer against Anders again. Anders absent-mindedly petted the cat, looking as if he were ready to drift off again -- but then he visibly realized what he was doing. His hand stilled, and he pried one eye open at last, looking skeptical. "Hey," he said, his voice fuzzy. He slowly focused on Pounce, then the faces above him. "That's… Kari? I mean…" He looked at once apologetic and relieved. "Mikarra… you're…."
She bent down and kissed his cheek, curtailing whatever he was about to say. "You know… I don't think I mind anymore," she said.
Elinora smiled, listening to Anders' laugh and Pounce's escalated purr. She reached out for Alistair's hand, too, and he grasped hers back, holding on tight.
For that moment at least, everything in the world felt back in balance again.
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 81
Author(s): pagerunner_j and the hip, the happening, the totally groovy w0rdinista
Characters: Alistair, Elinora Cousland, and a slowly-growing cast of thousands
Rating: T
Pairing: Cousland/Alistair
Summary: It's eight years after the Archdemon's defeat, eight years after Loghain's heroic death on the top of Fort Drakon, and eight years after Alistair stormed out of the Landsmeet, never to be seen again. It's five years since Elinora took up the mantle of teyrna of Highever after Fergus remarried and became King in the process. Now Alistair and Elinora are back together in Highever, with trouble brewing all around. The royal family has come to visit, three more Wardens are in attendance, and the Wardens' worrying dreams have returned, along with even greater troubles and tragedies. The battle is over and it's time to heal, and to catch up with a few loved ones who'd had to stay behind...
---
Elinora watched Nathaniel rush down the stairs, heedless of everything else going on around him - hurrying forward and clutching Mikarra tightly with his good arm. Elinora walked as quickly as she dared, favoring her injury, but as she got closer she saw Mikarra -- still holding Ser Pounce-a-Lot -- embrace Nathaniel, one slender arm sliding around his body as he held her. That made Elinora stop entirely. Despite taking place in the courtyard with dozens of bustling knights, squires, and servants around them, the moment was an intensely private one - one which Elinora was loath to interrupt. Instead, she waited by the base of the stairs, watching from a safe distance.
The two held each other for a long, long moment, sharing a lingering kiss, and even after they pulled away a bit, their heads were bent in private conference. Mikarra’s hand came to rest on Nathaniel’s injured shoulder. She said something, but he shook his head. Elinora wondered if perhaps now Nathaniel might be more inclined to seek the advice of a healer.
Then he seemed to notice the state of her dress, and Elinora heard his faint exclamation. He looked as if he wanted more than anything to sweep Mikarra up into his arms to get her out of the snow. Mikarra smiled to ease his frustration, though, and tucked under his good arm as he walked her carefully back to the stairs.
"Elinora," Nathaniel said upon approach. His voice was trembling with lingering tension, but also the beginnings of profound relief. "Would you be so good as to tell my mad beloved that walking barefoot and barely clothed in the snow is a certain path to the death we were trying to avoid?"
Elinora ventured a smile. Mikarra returned it, but with a sheepish dip of her head. Elinora took a moment to watch the mage's movements more closely. She seemed even smaller than Elinora remembered, but that may well have been due to the billowing nightgown she wore. Pounce's tail flicked as he slept, cradled in her arm. He looked thin, too, and there was a faint brush of silver around his whiskers that hadn't been there before. Whatever might have transpired to wake Mikarra, it had surely not come easily.
She wondered, though, if it was possible that Korath's death was what finally released Mikarra from her unnatural slumber. Elinora knew something about magic, simply through years of observation, but what she knew about blood magic -- let alone Korath's particular brand of spells -- was scarce indeed. But if his creations began to falter and fall without him, perhaps his demise was also enough to wake Mikarra.
As Elinora puzzled it over, Mikarra's expression subtly changed. When she spoke it echoed Elinora's thoughts.
"Korath is dead," Mikarra said, without any hint of a question. Slowly, Elinora nodded.
"He is. We returned…" she looked at the sky -- it was proper morning now, but Elinora still had no idea how long she'd been asleep. "We returned some hours ago." Her pause was brief but diplomatic as she went on to ask: "How did you…?"
Mikarra looked up, and Elinora caught her breath. Elinora saw that Mikarra's already pale eyes almost seemed to be lit with a strange, otherworldly kind of light. The mage had already possessed a fairly strong connection to the Fade, and Elinora couldn't help but wonder if Mikarra's recent visit to the Fade had left her with any new abilities -- she didn't know how mages acquired new skills, but it certainly seemed possible. Something to ask Anders later, she decided.
Mikarra blinked as if to mask the strangeness, and the light faded.
"Korath… passed me briefly in the Fade," she replied. "I have a feeling I knew what his presence there meant even before he did. He… didn't want to believe it, I think." Her brows furrowed faintly. Elinora only nodded; her own experiences with the Fade had been enough to leave her intimately acquainted with the confusion and disorientation of the place -- and Korath wouldn't be the type to accept it easily.
"What… will become of him, then?" Nathaniel asked warily.
Mikarra looked unaccountably sad for a moment, doubtless remembering the boy she'd known in childhood. "A harsh future, no matter what path he takes," she said. "He'll most likely either become a Fade demon, or become a minion for one."
"Either sounds grim," Elinora said quietly.
"And either may break him," Mikarra replied. "But… either might also give him a different sort of power. I only hope he stays bound there, too deep to do any harm. I can only imagine, if some poor mage on his Harrowing ever meets him, with his hunger…." She trailed off. Shadows flickered in her expression. "I may yet have to follow him in someday."
Nathaniel's arm tightened around her, and he shook his head. "No," he whispered. "Not now. Not even soon."
"Nathaniel--"
"Whatever's left of him is weak, Mikarra, and he's surrounded by creatures even fouler than him -- they'll see him for what he is. They'll deal with him. It's what he deserves. Forget him, Mikarra. Stay with us and mend."
Mikarra nodded slowly, but she met Elinora's eyes, not Nathaniel's. The expression was all too knowing. Elinora had just been thinking of how grateful she was -- for so many reasons -- that Alistair had lived through the encounter with Korath, because in those grief-sick moments when she thought he might not have lived, she would have been willing to do whatever was necessary to plunge into the Fade herself and chase whatever was left of Korath to its ends to get her revenge. Mikarra had just as many reasons to do the same, and she knew better than anyone what might yet be possible.
The thought made her shiver. Still, Elinora gave her head a brisk shake, clearing it. Highever and her family were safe. Focus on that, she told herself. And Nathaniel will help her. It'll be all right.
Pounce made a small, sleepy rumble, bringing them all back to the present. Elinora watched Mikarra adjust the cat in her arms, then she glanced even lower, seeing the tiny patches of melted snow around Mikarra's feet. "In the meantime, I have a much more pressing question, I'm afraid," Elinora said.
"Yes, Comman-- um, Elinora?"
Elinora's lips twitched at the young woman's slip. "Why in the Maker's name did you leave your quarters without a cloak or slippers?"
Mikarra ducked her head, looking sheepish again. "I realized what it meant -- that I was awake. I had to come." She glanced up at Nathaniel. "I needed to see everyone."
"Indeed," Elinora replied evenly, making no comment about how Mikarra's look made it quite, quite plain exactly who she needed to see most. "Well, as you can see, we are… recovering. There are injuries, of course," Elinora added, her eyes flicking to Nathaniel's shoulder. "For the time being, I would recommend you get inside before you catch your death of cold."
"As I was trying to tell you some time ago," Nathaniel told Mikarra, smiling a little. The warmth of it went a long way toward lessening the cold. "I could walk you back…."
Mikarra, obviously sensing where he was going with this, leaned closer. "Yes," she said. "But first -- I need to see Ser Pounce-a-Lot back to his rightful owner." She gave a small laugh as she gave the cat a gentle scratch behind the ears. "I think he misses Anders."
"To tell you the truth," Elinora said, "I think the feeling has been mutual."
"And if we're going to be entirely honest," Nathaniel said, looking around briefly as if to make sure Anders wasn't eavesdropping anywhere nearby, "I think I rather missed the cat." Mikarra smiled up at him and he grimaced. "If you please, don't tell Anders. He'll never let me hear the end of it."
Elinora chuckled. "Here -- at least let me take him for you. You can come in if you like, too, but I think Anders is still asleep."
"That's all right. I just want to see the others… know for sure…."
Elinora nodded, then took Pounce's warm, furry form into her arms, feeling the cat settle against her chest and purr softly. Mikarra still stood steady at Nathaniel's side. Elinora breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see it, for as insistent as Pounce had been about not leaving Mikarra's side, this was solid proof indeed that she was on the mend.
"Everyone's right through here," Elinora said, returning to the door and nudging it open with her hip. Nathaniel and Mikarra followed, while Elinora rubbed Pounce's chin gently.
"I know someone who'll be very glad to have you back," she murmured. The cat only blinked sleepily at her.
Elinora thought about him, inevitably, as they walked past the various beds on the way to their destination. They'd never tried to pull apart and understand just what it was Pounce did; they all merely accepted his unique gifts as that: a gift. But now Elinora couldn't help but wonder precisely how he did all that he did. It was his presence that had kept Mikarra stable. Having Pounce along on countless missions had always resulted in healthy and whole returns to the Keep. In comparison to all these scrapes and breaks and burns around them, the extent of Pounce's strange abilities was suddenly impossible to ignore.
She shook her head slowly, looking into those deep yellow eyes.
"What are you?" she breathed. Pounce looked at her for a long moment -- and for a mad instant Elinora thought he looked as if he were deciding whether or not to answer her -- then finally lifted his head and rubbed it against her chin.
Talking to the cat now, she thought, shaking her head. Rather glad Anders wasn't around to hear that little exchange.
Mikarra, at least, didn't notice the exchange either, because her attention was riveted by the patients around her. When they passed Markham's cot, Elinora saw that Adeline had just disappeared -- probably in search of yet more potions materials -- but she'd obviously already given Markham something soothing; he'd relaxed into a more natural sleep, and the redness on his skin seemed somewhat fainter. Indeed, the whole surrounding space seemed to be more under control now, and the pages who were running about on errands even looked calmer. Still, Mikarra shook her head in some awe. "All of this happened while I was…under?" she whispered. "If only I'd--"
"Ssh," Nathaniel said. "It's all right."
Mikarra, who was staring now at Allan with wide eyes -- and Elinora could only imagine what she was seeing there -- didn't agree or disagree, but she let herself be led the rest of the way to Anders' bed.
The mage in question was still curled on his side, sleeping quite soundly on his cot. Alistair was drowsing again, too. Still favoring her foot, Elinora picked her way across the room to Anders' bedside, and very, very gently set the cat down onto the cot, trying to be quiet enough not to disturb either man.
"He's healing well, I'm told," Nathaniel was telling Mikarra, nodding in Alistair's direction. "He and Elinora took Korath down at the end. It was…." He paused, his lips tilted wryly. "Dramatic."
"You're giving me too much credit," Elinora said, while Ser Pounce-a-Lot stretched, leaning forward and arching his back as the tip of his tail curled. Then he slunk beneath Anders' outstretched arm, and curled contentedly against the mage's chest. Nathaniel, a little less relaxed about things, snorted.
"Our esteemed commander," he said, ignoring her reaction to the title. "Self-effacing to a fault."
"And Anders?" Mikarra asked, easing into a seat close by his side with Nathaniel's help. "What of him?"
"We wouldn't have made it without him," Elinora said. "He'll be fine. He's just…over-extended, a bit. Needs the rest."
Mikarra nodded and reached across to pet Pounce again. He closed his eyes and began to purr -- a low, velvety sound that seemed to make Anders relax even further.
Conversely, though, Alistair began to stir. Elinora heard his blankets rustle, and looked up in time to see a puzzled, if not outright worried, expression cross his face. "I thought," he said muzzily, "that the cat was with Mikarra…"
They all turned to face him. Alistair was still struggling to sit up properly, so he hadn't seen everyone yet. Elinora went to Alistair, reaching for extra pillows to help prop him up. Mikarra was, as it turned out, the first to answer:
"I brought him back," she said.
Between the surprise and Elinora's assistance, Alistair suddenly sat up much more quickly. "Mikarra," he said, still blinking hard to focus, or as if in disbelief. "You're awake --"
"We're all here," Elinora confirmed. "All the Wardens."
"All awake and accounted for except for sleepybones here, at any rate," said Nathaniel, giving Anders a teasing nudge. Alistair laughed quietly, his eyebrows still raised and his smile tilted with a mix of shock and profound relief.
"All of us," Alistair said. "Thank the Maker."
"Thank us, for doing our jobs," another voice mumbled. Elinora looked down to see Anders, whose eyes were still shut. He was grumbling into his pillow. "'xcept… no thanks to you for waking me up…."
Pounce snorted and nosed in closer against Anders again. Anders absent-mindedly petted the cat, looking as if he were ready to drift off again -- but then he visibly realized what he was doing. His hand stilled, and he pried one eye open at last, looking skeptical. "Hey," he said, his voice fuzzy. He slowly focused on Pounce, then the faces above him. "That's… Kari? I mean…" He looked at once apologetic and relieved. "Mikarra… you're…."
She bent down and kissed his cheek, curtailing whatever he was about to say. "You know… I don't think I mind anymore," she said.
Elinora smiled, listening to Anders' laugh and Pounce's escalated purr. She reached out for Alistair's hand, too, and he grasped hers back, holding on tight.
For that moment at least, everything in the world felt back in balance again.