There and Back Again Ch. 180

There were half a dozen other occupied tables, though the room was large enough that it felt nearly empty. Servants in immaculate uniforms served the meals, slipping in and out through a swinging door silently like ghosts. We weren't offered a choice of meals, though given then number of courses it wasn't hard to just avoid any individual item that didn't appeal. I refused to touch the grey goo in a small fancy bowl served with toasted slices of baguette, not brave enough to ask if it was some sort of fish egg or snail thing -- I just passed. Aedan smirked at me while he dug in enthusiastically and I rolled my eyes. Brothers are so immature.

I wanted to ask Fergus about our plans; he'd been tight-lipped about when we would leave for Lhanbyrde, how we would get there, and what to expect on the island -- if he even knew the latter. But I didn't feel comfortable asking in front of Hetty, who had yet to stop to take a breath while she chattered in Fergus' ear, but somehow had still managed to eat a respectable amount of her meal with impeccable table manners. I sighed, feeling entirely too unglamourous as I used my napkin to blot at a drop of soup I'd somehow dribbled down the front of my dress.

Fergus, for his part, listened to Hetty intently, nodding and shaking his head in response without saying almost anything. He didn't smile, though he wasn't frowning either; it was hard to tell with the scar that distorted his lips unless you knew him well. His gaze was restless, moving from person to person though it returned to me often enough to make me even more uncomfortable. Somehow I could tell he was multi-tasking, though, able to spare enough attention for Hetty that he never missed a cue or gave the wrong response.

Dom stood near the main door, still armed with a sword, though wearing clothes not armour, and he alternated between glowering at the patrons and out the window beside him. Everyone else ignored him, so I tried too, though he really was intimidating.

When dinner was finally done, and we had honest-to-god chocolate cake for dessert -- apparently cocoa only grew in Seheron and was crazy expensive as a result; I suddenly had a very healthy level of jealousy for the Qunari -- we sat and chatted for a while longer. I kept hoping for the chance to talk to Fergus, but it seemed Hetty had latched on and wasn't going to let go. It didn't seem sexual -- she wasn't flirting or touching him, not to mention she was closer in age to his parents than to him -- but she seemed intent on whatever she was telling him, speaking quietly enough that we couldn't hear. After an awkward wait we finally called it an evening and excused ourselves. Avanna summoned two different guards -- both in armour -- to stand outside our door for the night, and Alistair and I went inside to go to bed. The fire in the hearth was roaring, the sunset gorgeous from our huge windows, and we made good use of the enormous bed before falling asleep, sated.

I woke in the night, my anxiety over what we would find at Lhanbyrde disrupting my sleep with disturbing dreams. I curled up against one of the windows, watching the stars and two crescent moons cross the sky, my mind just wandering aimlessly, feeling unsettled. It didn't improve when I noticed a figure darting across the lawn of the inn, slinking from shadow to shadow, circling around the inn counter-clockwise, stopping every now and then to do...something, before moving on. I sat up, about to send up the alert, when I realised something about the shape was familiar. I squinted, trying to calm my racing heart, as I watched my favourite Antivan elf sneak around furtively. Once I knew who it was, I could tell what he was doing -- checking windows and doors to ensure nothing was left unlocked.

I felt something shift behind me, and then Alistair's warm chest pressed up against my back as he urged me into the space between his legs. I leaned back, resting my head on his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his naked skin on mine. I could tell the moment he noted the shadowy figure outside; he stiffened, his arms around me protectively.

"Zevran," I whispered.

"Hmm." He relaxed and started tracing patterns on my arms with his fingers, and I shivered.

"The attack is bothering him more than he's letting on," I guessed.

"We'll just have to keep him busy when we get back."

I sighed. "No, I suspect...he's not going to relax until he knows nothing like that will ever happen again."

"What are you saying?" Alistair's breath on my ear had my nipples hardening despite the depressing topic.

"He needs to go on the offensive. Take down the Crow cells that are after him, make the organisation decide it's too dangerous to keep coming after him." I thought about the Zevran from the second Dragon Age game and shivered for a different reason. The elf disappeared from view, and I hoped he'd gone inside to bed. "He needs to leave the Wardens and take this fight to Antiva."

I could feel Alistair's horror. "No!" I agreed with the sentiment -- but wondered if there was any other choice in the matter.

I let the subject go, turning to look at my husband's face in the dim light. "Let's talk about something else."

He gazed down at me silently before pressing a kiss to my lips. "Or maybe we don't need to talk at all?"

I nodded, twisting to kneel facing him, pushing him down to the mattress. "Exactly."