There and Back Again Ch. 037-038

When he'd touched my breast that morning, it had been through leather armour. This was nothing like that. His hand was almost hot, and I shivered at the temperature differential as he engulfed the small mound. My nipple was hard, and scraped across his palm as I dragged it into place. We both moaned, and his hand convulsively clutched me again, squeezing my breast. I almost came on the spot, feeling his hardness under my lap, his fingers toying with my erect nipple. I bucked up into his hand, and he gasped out loud.

I had just enough time to enjoy the sensation before I heard something coming from the direction of camp. Through a haze of desire, part of my mind tried to sort out what I was hearing. There was the bounding sound of a large animal running, and I pulled away from the kiss with a look of total confusion on my face. And then Aedan's voice came into focus.

"Prince, no! Bad dog!"

Suddenly anticipating what was next, I wrapped my arms around Alistair's head and threw my weight into him. Surprised, he fell back, avoiding banging his head by a narrow margin. He instinctively pulled me close, which turned out to be a bad move because when the ton of enthusiastic mabari – and a few pounds of oiled tent cloth – landed on me, I fell forward to head-butt Alistair directly in the face. I heard a shout and a muffled swear, and felt blood pouring down his face, running into my hair and streaking my own face in the process. Preparing to jump, Prince transferred his weight to his back paws, and I let out a scream as I felt something pop under the weight. A rib, I assumed, from the fire racing through my chest and my sudden inability to breathe without pain.

Prince yelped – I could have sworn he actually said 'sorry' – and finally managed to get off; I hoped someone corralled the silly animal before he stepped on me again while trying to apologise. When my head finally cleared, I could feel Alistair wriggling around under me, and hear a panicked Aedan shouting my name. I tried to respond, but ended up emitting only a pained moan. Suddenly the material of the tent was lifted, and I turned my head to try to see the worried face of my brother peering down at me. A glance behind him showed Zevran smirking, and Leliana covering her mouth as she tried not to break out laughing. Wynne's face was disapproving, but somehow still both concerned and slightly amused, while Morrigan's typical sneer just added to the overall hilarity I could somehow see.

Without further ado, I absolutely lost it. I howled in laughter, my sides shaking, the heaves jarring my sore chest, but I couldn't stop. I heard Leliana's refined giggle, and Sten's snort of disgust, and then Alistair and Aedan joined in and shortly we were all cracking up. I cackled until I felt the soothing aura of Wynne's healing as she repaired my rib, and then Alistair's nose, which was still pouring blood. Alistair gently held me as he rolled to the side, depositing me on the remains of the tent, and scrambled to his feet. He gave me an embarrassed grin as he bent down to pick me up and set me down on a nearby log.

I buried my face in his shirt as he held me, relieved to have the pain gone, amused by the ridiculousness of the situation, and frankly disgusted by being covered in Alistair's blood. He finally pulled away, and I looked up to see our tent being reassembled by Zevran and Leliana, while Aedan just glowered at Prince. Or at least he tried to glower; it was difficult, with Prince sitting by me, chest puffed out proudly, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Aedan? What on earth was that about?"

My brother walked over and settled beside me with a sigh. "I'm going to guess that Prince didn't want anyone touching his human." Prince woofed happily, giving me what looked like a grin. Aedan face-palmed. "And it would seem he's a misogynist – he didn't do it to me and Zev."

"Hey!" Alistair protested indignantly, and Prince gave him a look that said 'you know you deserve it'. I couldn't help but laugh, earning myself a glare from Alistair. I schooled my expression as Aedan called Prince over. He slid his huge head into Aedan's lap, almost purring. Aedan cupped his face and lifted to make eye contact.

"Bad dog, Prince. You hurt Sierra badly today." Prince whined and tried to look away, but Aedan maintained the position. "Sierra can take care of herself. You don't need to protect her from friends. Only from darkspawn and bandits. Alistair is a friend."

Prince rolled his eyes over to look at Alistair, crouched nearby, and sneezed in his general direction, before looking back at Aedan with disgust. He whined again.

"Friend." Aedan said it firmly, right in Prince's face, and the furry monster finally made a noise that sounded vaguely like acceptance. "Now you better think of some way to make it up to Sierra and Alistair. You owe them both an apology. And if you do something like that again, I'll chain you to a tree in camp from now on."

The fact that he was talking to his dog like normal parents might to a six-year-old was too funny, and I had to laugh. Aedan finally released Prince, and he came over and tentatively licked my fingers. I scratched his ears and he chuffed happily. Turning to Alistair, he looked back once at Aedan, like he was checking to see if Aedan was joking, and when he got nothing but a glare in return, he stepped up to Alistair, lowered his head in an oddly submissive pose, and whined. Always a softy, Alistair snorted but then reached out to stroke the soft fur on Prince's head. Satisfied that he'd been forgiven, the mabari wandered back over to the fire and laid down.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Spidey Senses

Leli and Zev had finished with our tent, and I stood up, taking Alistair's hand. As I stood, Aedan pointed down towards the river.

"Get cleaned up again, both of you. You look like you've been rolling around in a battlefield."

I looked up at Alistair and realised his face and neck were covered in dried blood; reaching up, I recalled that so was I. My hair was crusted with it, and I was suddenly thoroughly disgusted. His expression mirrored my feelings, and after grabbing soap we headed down to the stream hand-in-hand, barely able to see in the last light of dusk. I knelt on the bank, carefully using a cloth to wash my face and neck. Alistair just waded right in, fully clothed, to my amusement. When he assured me I'd gotten the blood off my face, I cast about awkwardly trying to figure out how to wash my hair without climbing in entirely.

"Let me."

"Huh?" I'm always so eloquent.

"Roll onto your back, and I'll wash it."

"I'll fall in!"

"Not with me right behind you. I won't let you fall, Sierra."

I trusted Alistair, but was still a little nervous. I reluctantly turned, sitting with my back to the stream, and he waded up behind me. He put his steady hands on my shoulders and eased me back; I gasped as the cold water crept down my neck as my hair submerged. His fingers were strong, his hands warm, and he leaned over me, concentrating intensely, as he carefully lathered my long thick hair. His fingers massaged my scalp, and I moaned, the sensuousness contrasting strangely with the cold.

He smiled softly at me. "You are so beautiful, Sierra."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the intimacy.

I was surprised when, a moment later, I felt his lips press gently against mine. It was like some weird moment from a chick flick – I recalled a scene from the Bourne Identity or some such where he was washing her hair and they ended up kissing – but it was better. He was Alistair, and he was real, and it was happening to me. The kiss ended and he pulled away, still supporting my head.

"All clean, I think. And it's cold – we had better get you dry and warm."

He helped me sit, and I quickly wrung the excess water out of my hair and twisted it into a bun to prevent it dripping too much. He climbed out of the water, and I was momentarily dumbstruck. Despite being fully clothed, the water meant that nothing was really hidden. He was six feet of gorgeous, and I moaned again in spite of myself. He glanced at me curiously, and I was intensely grateful for the near-darkness that covered my blush. I shook my head, trying to gather my wits, and scrambled to my feet.

Suddenly aware of how cold it was, we instinctively clung together, though his wet clothes were probably not helping me any. Reaching the tent, I insisted he crawl in first and change his soaked clothing, and I went to huddle by the fire. Zevran, on watch, was the only one left outside, and he had thoughtfully tossed some extra wood on the fire. I wiggled as close to the fire as I could tolerate and sat with my wet hair towards the heat. I knew it wouldn't dry that fast, but the warmth felt wonderful.

Zevran raised his eyebrows with a smirk on his face as he dramatically glanced over at the tent I shared with Alistair and then back at me. His thoughts were plain – why was I out here when there was a perfectly naked, gorgeous templar in there? I scowled at the elf and shook my head. I'd had enough unintentional embarrassment for one night – I didn't need to add walking in on Alistair while he was changing. I wanted to get naked with him, more than I was comfortable admitting, but I wasn't going to have the first time be sort-of accidental and awkward and in a tent with everyone listening. We weren't ready. Zevran just shook his head, amused.

Alistair saved me by emerging quickly, dry if not yet warm, and I slipped into the tent to change into a light shift for sleeping. I looked critically at the dress as I took it off – it was probably a lost cause, with all the blood around the neck, but I put it aside to ask Leliana's opinion later. I wonder if they have bleach in Ferelden. I called out softly when I was ready, and Alistair crawled back into the small space.

Neither of us spoke; I think we both knew that the mood had been well and truly broken, and I for one was freezing. Our bedrolls were pushed up side by side, and as he laid down, I snuggled up to him. I could feel myself start to shiver, and he wrapped a warm arm around me as we pulled both blankets up to cover both of us. Cuddled in his arms, finally starting to warm up, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

"Love you." I mumbled. I felt more than heard him reply, but I was asleep before whatever he said penetrated.

I woke in the same position I'd been sleeping in, snuggled up to Alistair's side. I opened my eyes, expecting to see morning light filtering through the tent fabric, but it was mostly dark outside and very, very quiet. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had woken me, though I couldn't imagine what; Alistair slept peacefully, so obviously it was only me. I tried to settle back down and get more sleep – my eyes were gritty with fatigue, and I clearly needed the rest – but I felt like I was going to crawl right out of my skin, and the sensation wouldn't let me rest. It was a familiar sensation, the more I thought about it, and I realised that it was similar to the feeling I'd had early on after meeting Zevran when he'd been trying to prank me while meditating with Alistair. In fact, it suddenly occurred to me, it wasn't similar – it was exactly the same.

I would have slapped myself upside the head if I thought I had time. I jerked upright, and let out the loudest yell I could manage.

"Wake up! We're under attack!"

I heard a startled Leliana scramble to her feet out by the fire, grumbling about bad dreams, just in time for the whistle of an arrow to be heard flying through the camp. It thunked into something, and from Leliana's sudden shriek, the something was her. Moments later I felt Wynne's magic flare, and then a few seconds later Morrigan's, and I hoped one or the other had taken care of Leliana.

Alistair, more alert than I despite having just woken, grabbed me with one arm, his sword – which I hadn't realised was right beside his bedroll – with the other, and with a grunt, rolled us. We hit the side of the tent and stopped, just as a couple of crossbow bolts pierced the spot we had been sleeping in. Releasing me, Alistair bolted from the tent with a growl, and I heard his shout at the same time as the clashing of metal from the other side of the camp.

I scrambled for my own daggers, our tent no longer under attack since Alistair had exited, and tried to follow him out, but he was blocking the exit, engaged in furious combat with someone whose legs I could only glimpse briefly between Alistair's. There was enough moonlight to see, but barely. It was just as well; as I ducked back into the tent, I felt the aura that could mean only one thing – our ambushers had a mage with them. It was different from Wynne's soothing presence, and similar to Morrigan's, but I could tell Morrigan was on the opposite side of the camp, in spider form I guessed, and this was much closer.

Closing my eyes to concentrate, I found the source of the mana and reached out, as I'd shown Alistair on the hapless darkspawn Emissary. I heard a scream as I seized that power, but then had no idea what to do with it. Crawling back to the tent flap, by the wan moonlight I could see Alistair bleeding from a slash to the arm, and all of a sudden instead of being afraid, I was angry. How dare these bastards try to hurt my family? I growled and felt the power I held change, move somehow, and suddenly Alistair was surrounded by a brief flash of white light. I catalogued what I had done with half my mind, comparing it to what had happened at Ostagar, while the rest still watched Alistair. The next time his assailant got a hit in, the sword stopped an inch from his skin as though he wore his usual armour, and a spark flared; the sword seemed to rebound up and fly away, and I heard a curse as the man lost his grip. Alistair slashed his neck easily, and the would-be assassin dropped, hands trying in vain to close over the wound.

When Alistair stepped forward, I could finally see Aedan, dancing between two men with great swords, and my anger flared again; another flash of white light, and I knew he'd be similarly protected. I was able to crawl out of the tent and climb to my feet, turning to see the terrified visage of a young man in robes, clutching a staff ineffectually, and chanting frantically. I was amused to note that what he was chanting wasn't an attempt to cast a spell, but rather a prayer to the Maker. I looked away from him and spun, picking out my friends in the darkness, seeing flashes of light as shields went up. Alistair was relieving some of the pressure on Aedan, while Zevran fought to keep Leliana safe near the fire. Prince and Sten were finishing off the archers that had started the whole thing, and Shale protected Wynne as she circled, looking for obvious injuries. I couldn't see Morrigan, but her aura had last flared at the edge of the woods, and a number of writhing, screaming attackers demonstrated the power of her bites. None of the people I could see near her were capable of standing, never mind fighting, so for the moment she was safe.

As I completed my circle, the rest of my group finished off the last of the enemy; Zevran and Aedan went around slitting the throats of those still breathing. That left just the mage near me, now completely devoid of mana. I caught Alistair's eye and then put up one of the shields I had finally figured out, and he nodded. Aedan walked up to the mage, who had fallen to his knees, dropped his staff, and held his hands out to the sides in an effort to look non-threatening. His frightened eyes were fixed on me until Aedan stepped into his line of sight.

I didn't stop to watch the encounter between the mage and Aedan; I turned and rushed over to where Leliana had fallen by the fire. Zevran had her propped up against his chest, his hands holding her shoulders still, while Wynne slowly, methodically worked an arrow out through the back of her leg. She'd cut away the leather of her armour, revealing an expanse of pale thigh. I was relieved to see not much bleeding – the arrow hadn't hit an artery – but one look at Zevran's too-blank face and I knew I was missing something. When I looked closer, I could already see the edges of the wound blackening, and Leliana didn't even seem to notice the pain as Wynne pressed the arrowhead deeper into her flesh. Poisoned, damn it. Leliana's face was pale, and I didn't think she'd notice our conversation.

"Wynne?"

"I see it, child. I tried, but I don't know enough about poisons."

"Zev?"

"Two or three possibilities come to mind. If I knew which, I could make an antidote – maybe, if I have the supplies available – but if I give her the wrong one, it will be worse than the poison."

I swore. "Zev, can you...look, don't hurt anyone, but can you find out what the poison was?" I gestured with my head to the mage behind me.

Zev nodded grimly, grabbing Leliana's blanket and wrapping it around her now-shivering upper body. I stayed with her, but watched Zev as he stood and headed back to the apostate, still kneeling in front of Aedan. He reached down into the grass near my tent and picked up one of the daggers that I'd dropped there. Steeling myself against what I had asked him to do, I watched him walk up behind the mage, grabbing a rough handful of his hair and tilting his head back. His hair fell back, and I realised he was an elf. I hadn't even noticed. Zev held the dagger at his throat.

"Zevran..." Aedan murmured, warningly.

He must have winked at Aedan, because his body language subtly relaxed. Zevran spoke.

"I'm afraid your sad story won't sway me, little mage. My friend is dying. So either you tell me what poison they used to tip their arrows, or you die." He pushed his head down, and looked at Aedan, who nodded, ever so briefly. Like he'd actually kill someone. Oh wait... "Think carefully, little maleficar. I've seen your friends – they were nothing more than thugs. I'd be willing to bet that you made the poison for them. Tell me now, and I might be inclined to allow my friend here to continue with whatever soft-hearted plan he has that will allow you to keep your pathetic little life. Refuse me, and I will use you to refresh some skills I haven't practiced in a while."

I almost felt sorry for him, felt sick for torturing him even if only emotionally, but we needed to know what poison they used. I left Leliana, wrapped tightly in a blanket, with Wynne, and walked over. The apostate's eyes went wide as I approached. Zevran shook his head, pulling at his hair – enough to hurt, not enough to damage.

"Speak."

"I don't...I don't know what it's called. Please. I'll tell you everything I know. There used to be another mage with us – he died a few months ago – but he taught me how to make basic poisons and poultices. I don't know what it's called, but I can tell you how it's made. Or, I can make the antidote. I know how. One of the guys accidentally cut himself once on an arrow. There might even be some of the antidote back at my camp. Please, please. Don't hurt me. Kill me if you have to" – his eyes opened, tears streaming, looking at Aedan, pleading – "but don't let her hurt me." I was fascinated that it was me he was concerned about, despite Zevran's dagger at his throat. He was babbling, and I figured about ten seconds from soiling his robes.

The assassin shook the young mage's head again. "Tell us how the poison is made, and then the antidote. Lie, and you're mine."

I looked at Zev skeptically, and tried not to grin. Zev crouched down and listened to a list of ingredients and instructions flow frantically out of the terrified elf's mouth. Zev nodded every now and then, and I was encouraged to see that he seemed to recognise the poison. After a few minutes, he stood up.