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Strangers with Cookies	By : pirouette Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 9211 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Title: Strangers With Cookies
Chapter Three: �...I should have stayed in that
cage.�
Rating: T for Dalish nudity

Word Count: 2,000

Characters: f!Mahariel, Sten, Leliana, Alistair,
Morrigan, and various sets of smallclothes
Summary: Adhara, frustrated by Sten's
dismissal of her battle skills because of her gender, decides to fight back.
Alistair gets caught in the crossfire and nearly dies of embarrassment.�

She is getting underneath his skin.
It has been a month since Sten realized that Adhara was
female. Since that night, she has insisted upon parading about camp in only
men's trousers and her chest wrappings. On warm nights, she removes those as
well, and wears only her smallclothes. The priestess and the mage have grown
accustomed to it and no longer seem disconcerted, though the Templar has taken
to reading books or disappearing into his tent to avoid the sight. The new elf,
the one that attempted to kill her three days ago, simply watches with open
longing.
Each night before they sit watch, she stands before Sten and
gaze up at him angrily, hair loose, pale skin very visible. �Am I a woman?� she
asks.
�Yes,� he replies. She will then put on her armor and join
him for their shift, sitting beside him in amicable silence. Because of this,
he has never attempted to stand watch with another of the party; the Templar
insists that Sten make small talk, the priestess babbles, and the mage
blatantly attempts to seduce him. He is not sure what Adhara is doing, but so
far it has proven less obnoxious than the alternatives.
In the morning she will stand before him in her armor. �Am I
a soldier?�
�No.�
After she fells the last enemy of the day, standing beside
him with her shield and sword that are nearly as large as she is, she will
stare up at him again with grey eyes. �Am I a soldier?� she repeats.
�No.�
�Then what am I?�
His answer to this varies, but it is never what she wishes
to hear. And so when they return to camp, she begins the ritual again, standing
before him with loose hair and scant clothing.
None of the others appear to understand her motivations,
either. Sten overhears the priestess confront her as they are cooking dinner
together, and pauses his meditations to listen quietly. It no longer takes as
much effort to understand Leliana as it used to.
�You are being cruel to Sten!�
�No,� the elf replies, �I'm not. He's being foolish.�
�And you're not?�
�Sten needs to trust me. He had no problem with me when he
thought I was male. Showing him beyond a doubt that I'm a woman and a
warrior is the only way to fix this.�
But must you be so blatant?� she asks. �Alistair can hardly
look you in the eye anymore. All he sees is breasts!�
A spoon slams against a pot more violently than necessary,
perhaps. �Then Alistair needs this as much as Sten does.�
�...What?�
�Alistair should stop thinking of me as a woman.�
�Then you might want to wear chainmail more often, not
less.� After the priestess says this, the two women cease speaking entirely.�
�So she is attempting to make him admit that she is both a
woman and a soldier. Amusing. Armed with this new understanding, he begins to
fight back.
That night, she approaches him in her underwear. �Am I a��
�Yes.�
�Hmph.�
The next morning, he preemptively tells her that she is not
a soldier when she bids him a good day. As a result, she asks him the question
after each battle they fight together for the next two days.
�Am I a soldier?�
�No.�
�Then what am I?�
�An elf,� he says. �A woman with a sword.� �Covered in road
dust.� Or, if the battle has gone poorly, �bleeding.� Once, he tells her that
she is �attractive,� and she falls silent for the rest of the day, just as he
had hoped. But the next morning she resumes the ritual, and Sten reaches the
limit of his patience.
That day they are nearly at Lake Calenhad when they are
accosted on the road. When the last bandit falls to her blade, and she turns to
him with a smile, tattoo spattered in human blood. �Am I a soldier?�
�Yes,� he replies.
�The�really?� Their eyes meet suspiciously as he sheaths his
sword.
�No.�
�Then what am I?�
�Infuriating.�
All side-conversations cease, and the rest of the party
turns and stares toward them in horror. Alistair puts his hand to his sword,
apparently convinced that the two of them are about to come to blows. Sten
looks down at Adhara, watching her face carefully, and is as surprised as the
rest of them when she begins to laugh happily.
�Finally,� she smiles, resting a hand on his chest-piece and
taking a deep breath. �Now you know exactly how I feel about you.�
And with that, she ceases the ritual entirely. That night
she asks him for the shirt he offered her weeks ago, cleans it, and spends
their watch shift mending it into a loose, belted tunic. Considering how much
time he spent in it while caged, he does not mind its transformation. Once it
has been altered, she takes to wearing that with trousers when not in her
armor, and Alistair ceases hiding from her at night. Only the assassin seems to
lament the change. By the time she recruits another mage�a woman, an old
woman, he will never understand her thinking�everyone appears to be getting
along comparatively well.
They are on their way back to the town full of walking
corpses to meet more mages when the Wardens appear to fall ill. Adhara
has never been a heavy sleeper; each time he wakes in the night, she too is
sitting upright on her bedroll, head turned toward the source of whichever
noise has roused him. Recently, however, she has been the source of the
noise, and he will wake to find her tossing and turning, or shrieking until
Alistair leaves his tent and wakes her gently. They mutter something about the
archdemon, but he does not see the connection.
Once they begin having nightmares together, Adhara's pale
skin is marred by dark circles beneath her eyes. Two days after, their progress
toward Redcliffe halts completely at Alistair's insistence: Adhara needs rest.
�Sten,� the white-haired mage calls, and he ceases pacing
and watching the Wardens to see what she wishes. He is handed a cup of hot
liquid that smells vaguely bitter. �Have her drink that.�
The qunari sits beside Adhara beneath her chosen tree, well
away from the rest of the party members. They have been unable to get her near
her bedding. �Drink this,� he orders, and wraps her hands around the mug.
She sniffs it. �Oh, thank the Creators.�
�What is it?� he asks, watching her take several long
swallows.
�Willow bark tea. Painkiller. My blood has been burning all
day.�
�Are you ill?�
She shakes her head and drains the cup. �No, I'm a Warden.�
Sten scowls and ceases talking. She catches his facial
expression and apologizes. �Let's just say our powers come with a price. The
archdemon has been screaming in my head all night, and during the day....� she
trails off. �We're ignoring a call that darkspawn can't. And it hurts.�
�People choose to be Grey Wardens, knowing all this?� That
seems contrary to what he has seen of the non-qunari thus far.
�People choose to be Wardens and then find the details out
later,� she spits. �And I didn't even choose.�
Ah, trickery. That makes more sense. �I thought that all
Fereldans chose their path.�
�That doesn't mean we don't have a sense of duty. I am doing
this for...� she shakes her head. �For my clan. They sent me away and told me
to become a Warden.� She drains the mug and leans back against the tree trunk.
�You did not want to leave them,� he observes.
�Not at all. The shemlen are loud, and their cities
stink, and.... But the Keeper told me to go.� She glances sideways at him.
�What about you? Why are you here, of all places?�
�Duty. I was told by the arishok to come to Ferelden and
answer a question.�
She raises an eyebrow. �And that answer is with us?�
�Perhaps.� Though he is beginning to doubt it. �We will
see.�
She makes a thoughtful noise. �What was the question, then?�
�'What is the Blight?'�
�That's an easy one.� Adhara sighs and rises to her feet.
�The Blight is a nightmare.�
�That will hardly be a sufficient answer for the arishok.�
He tilts his head slightly to look up at her. Odd, how different she looks from
this angle.
�Is he expecting one soon?�
�...Yes.�
�You know that if you need to leave, you can, right?�
He shakes his head. �I cannot go back.�
Any of the humans would have demanded elaboration. To his
surprise, she merely smiles. �Well, then stay here with me. It's been good to
have you along.�
Sten stands beside her and stares quietly at the top of her
head until she raises her face to look at his. �What?�
�Thank you,� he replies. �You are not as callow as I
thought.�
�Hmmm.� Adhara steps closer and studies his face intently,
eyes narrowed, brows lowered in concentration. �Hmmm. No, you're still pretty
infuriating.�
For the first time since coming to in the farmhouse near
Lothering, he feels himself smiling.��
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Strangers with Cookies