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Samahlen	By : BronxWench Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 1569 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, and I make no money from this story.

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Slumber

The morning breeze was slightly chilly as Wraith led the way through the twisting paths of the Brecilian Forest. Alistair walked beside him, unusually quiet, deep in thought. The witch, Morrigan, had tried provoking Alistair a few times, making gibes about his intelligence but for once the man had not risen to her bait. Wraith found her frustration amusing, irritating her further.
The clan that currently moved through the Brecilian Forest had been found, and Zathrian, their Keeper, had been aware of both the Grey Warden treaties and the darkspawn threat. His concern, however, lay with a more immediate threat that faced his clan, and like most Dalish, the well being of the clan came before all else.
It was an attitude Wraith understood, which did not lessen his surprise at his own frustration. Somewhere along the journey, Wraith had begun to think less like a Dalish and more like a Grey Warden, and he was not sure how he felt about it. At first he had viewed his companions as a substitute for his clan, but now they were something more, something new. They were his family, and the taste of it was strange on his tongue.
Perhaps it was just the flavor of Zathrian's clan. Zathrian was nothing like Marethari, and his clan was colder, much as Zathrian was. Sarel, storyteller for Zathrian's clan, had been openly hostile, and that was uncommon among the Dalish. Both Zathrian and Sarel made Wraith uncomfortable, and he did not relish feeling that way among his own people. Only the clan's craftmaster, Varathorn, had been openly welcoming in the manner Wraith had expected.
Zathrian had spoken of werewolves, and an ancient curse. He had managed to secure the aid of Wraith and his allies to track down and bring him the heart of the ancient wolf with whom the curse had supposedly originated. Wraith frowned slightly. That he doubted the word of a Keeper made Wraith even more unsettled. Yet he found himself wondering if Zathrian would keep his word and honor the treaty, even if they brought him his bloody prize.
"So," Alistair said, drawing out the word, the hint of a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "Tell me, what do you think of Zathrian?"
Wraith looked up at the man. "I think," he began slowly, "Zathrian hasn't told us everything."
"Understated and subtle. I like it." Alistair grinned. "And Morrigan wants to know why you're our leader."
Wraith snorted. "You're welcome to lead, anytime you want."
"Oh, it's not going to be that easy," Alistair retorted, laughing. "There are many very good reasons that you should be our leader."
"The primary one being that you don't want to," Wraith replied, unable to suppress a smile himself.
"Anyway, back to the matter at hand." Alistair grew serious. "I don't think Zathrian's being totally honest with us. It seems awfully... convenient, don't you think?"
Wraith nodded slowly. "My clan passed through here, and saw no werewolves. It's curious."
"Curious? Suspicious is more like it." Alistair cocked an eyebrow at Wraith. "Really suspicious. Downright sneaky if you ask me." Alistair stopped abruptly and looked stricken. "I'm sorry, Wraith, really. These are your people, and here I am, insulting them."
"I agree with you, though." Wraith shrugged. "This clan is... not like the one I'm from. They're angrier, colder. They talk about these werewolves like they should be common knowledge, but my clan knows nothing of them. The enmity, it's almost personal, isn't it?"
"That's it exactly," Alistair said, looking relieved. "Personal is the word I was looking for. So, what do you want to do?"
Wraith looked at the man wryly. "Aside from avoiding werewolves altogether? I think I'd like to find out why they've targeted just this one clan."
"You think the werewolves are going to talk to us?" Alistair was openly skeptical. "Maybe we could all have tea together, invite the archdemon while we're at it. You know, solve all our problems over some cake. If we ask nicely enough, Morrigan will bake us one, I'm sure. Right after she gets some poison from your new pet assassin."
Wraith chuckled. Alistair was still upset that Wraith had permitted the Antivan elf to accompany them. Zevran claimed to be a member of the Crows, the famed assassin's guild, and Wraith had been his target. The attempt failed, but Wraith was reluctant to kill another elf and unwilling to set Zevran loose. Keeping him close at hand seemed the wisest choice.
But Zevran enjoyed flirting with Wraith, all the more so when he saw how Alistair reacted. Wraith was honestly not sure who was worse, the witch or the assassin. Alistair glowered and growled, and outright sulked, until Wraith reassured him with a quick kiss or an embrace, the only intimacies Alistair had permitted thus far.
And Alistair was glowering again, for Zevran had ghosted up beside Wraith, the mere thought of him seeming to invoke his presence.
"You needed me?" the Antivan purred, his accent liquid.
"Why don't you scout ahead a bit?" Wraith suggested mildly. The other elf chuckled darkly, but complied.
"He's really not interested in me, you know," Wraith remarked to Alistair when Zevran had vanished. "He just enjoys pissing you off."
"It's working," Alistair grumbled.
Wraith chuckled. "Maybe you should start sleeping in my tent, and guard me from sudden molestation in the night."
"Not a bad idea, actually," the man replied, his cheeks slightly pink at his own audacity as he leaned over to brush his lips over Wraith's lips.
Wraith felt something deep inside him wake from slumber. It had been some time, but he remembered the taste of happiness, and it tasted very much like Alistair's lips. Just to be sure, Wraith tugged him into another kiss, a disgusted groan from Morrigan music to them both.

Prompt word: Slumber
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