#not even Sten would dare cross Wynne

[tauristar]

“Has anyone mentioned you have a distinctive dimple in your left corner when you smile? And your eyes, they-- they kind of crinkle at the corners. And then they look brighter than usual, like… Like you're not burdened by anything in life. It’s refreshing to see in these times.”

“I… No, nobody has mentioned that before. That’s oddly specific. When did you notice this?”

The Dalish elf offered a shrug in return, left corner quirking upwards into a smile as he kept his focus on his mabari rather than the man in front of him. Rafael could almost hear Alistair’s confusion and it was amusing. It was, perhaps, daring of Rafael to be so bold and forthcoming towards the other Warden, but he had hoped that the time they spent together…

“A few days ago,” came his short reply.

“A few days ago,” Alistair repeated.

“Okay, maybe it was more than a few days ago, but does it matter? It's a compliment, Alistair.” A pause, before he muttered, “an attempt at one.”

Alistair huffed, sitting next to the elf, sparing a glance to the mabari Rafael was petting. Said mabari soon took notice of Alistair's presence, immediately pawing at the man for some attention; attention that Alistair was all too willing to give, of course. Rafael could only smile as he scratched behind the mabari’s ear, Alistair taking the utmost important job of rubbing the belly.

Silence soon fell like a heavy blanket, weighing down on the elf's shoulders as he awaited some sort of response, any response from the other. He felt his jaw tense, his breathing slow, his heart beating erratically and skipping beats, the compliment he gave replaying in his mind. He took the chance to instead note the sun setting in the distance, causing a surreal combination of pinks, oranges, blues and reds alike to cross the sky, highlighting darkened clouds -- clouds that would no doubt bring rain later in the week. Rafael noted the light breeze, the leaves rustling together, a soft whisper of nature that brought comfort and familiarity; home. The nomadic life. The travelling through forest and the exploration of ruins, or meadows, new areas untouched by civilisation. That calmed his mind.

“I… Thank you. For the compliment.”

Rafael glanced to Alistair, breaking out of his momentary trance. “Truly?”

“Of course. I mean-- I-- it was nice of you to notice. Nobody else has, as far as I know.” Alistair glanced at the mabari, who pawed at him again as soon as he stopped petting him. “Oh, you silly mabari, don't you know my arm gets tired?”

The mabari barked argumentatively in response.

“Banal’ras loves his pets, Alistair.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Alistair replied, stifling a chuckle as he returned to his important duty of giving belly rubs. “I’ve always wondered… What does Banal’ras mean? Did I say that right?”

“You said it well. Banal’ras means Shadow. And while a mabari isn't much of a shadow, lacking subtlety in every way, I… It's because I use black kaddis warpaint on him all the time.” Rafael smiled, if sheepishly. “Banal’ras is a good name, though. Strong. It suits him.”

“Your name isn't Dalish though. Rafael is a human name.”

Rafael hummed, shifting awkwardly in his spot and watching as Banal’ras rested his head in the elf's lap. “You're right, it is a human name. My father thought it suited me well, though, and my mother didn't disagree to it. I was named after a man that my father respected and cared for, a man whom I have yet to meet. From what I know from my Keeper, it was someone they traded with often, and he was incredibly generous with what he gave to our clan. Originally, my parents wanted to name me Enasalin -- victory when translated.”

“Enasalen?”

“Enasalin. Not Enasalen. But it's close… And it sounds better than Morrigan’s attempts.”

Alistair snorted, moving his free hand to his mouth to hide the large grin finding its way across his face; in which it was a poor attempt, because it was rather obvious.

After a few moments, Alistair coughed, clearing his throat -- in the usual dramatic fashion, he noted.

“So, uh. You weren't completely honest with me when you said you only noticed the whole, umm, smiling thing. It didn't seem like a few days ago. Was it longer than that? Wait wait, I have another question too: why tell me this? Why tonight?”

“Ah. You were just waiting to bring that up,” Rafael joked. “I noticed… A month ago? It may have been two months by now. I lost track of the time it's been since I noticed.”

“And why you told me tonight?”

“... You looked sad.”

“Wait, really? Wh-- no, no, that can't be it, right? You're kidding.”

“Okay, that is only part of the reason. I… It's hard to put into words. I just thought you should know that about yourself.” Rafael paused, holding his breath if only for a moment. “Ma melava halani, ma falon. Ma serannas.”

Alistair stared at Rafael. The elf soon turned his gaze away, ever silent, stopping his absent affections to Banal’ras. Instead, it was as if he was silently debating with himself, words on the tip of his tongue but never spilling, old language at the back of his throat never to be understood again. It was as though he worried about the impression it had made on the other Warden.

“It translates to: you helped me, my friend. Thank you.” A pause. “It’s hard to explain how you helped me, but you did. And I thank you for it. When I lost Tamlen, I become more violent and aggressive, trying to take it out on everyone else around me, and while Zevran has shown me that it is okay to feel the impact of death… You have shown me that it can’t possibly be my fault, and that I should forgive myself for not being able to help him.”

There’s a small pause. “Though I admit, perhaps lethallin would suit better than falon. Lethallin is for someone familiar, or family, or a close friend.” Or more, is left unsaid.

“Aww, you think I'm a close friend?”

“I'd hope so. I've been living with you for almost a year and you're the only other Grey Warden in Ferelden. If you're not a friend, not even a close one, then I don't know what happened between my recruitment, Ostagar, and now.”

“Well if you don't remember, I can give a recap: darkspawn parties. They've trashed the place. The Archdemon refuses to take the responsibility he should. If that's not the worst thing, then we've had to deal with other not-darkspawn-related parties. Very tiresome, trying to go to all of these parties, you know.” Alistair’s lips quirked into his signature smile; playful, but hiding. “You never know how much trouble is going on in the world until you have to unite them to fight a common enemy.”

Rafael laughed in response, quietened to be mindful of the others, all of which had taken to their designated spots; Morrigan away from the camp, Zevran and Leliana talking to each other on the opposing side of the building fire. Sten taking watch by one entrance with Shale on the other, Bodahn and Sandal soon to join the others after packing up their wares, Wynne going to ensure that Oghren was well enough to eat food without feeling sick, just to be safe. He noted that while his group of friends were strange, though they were all so hilariously different from each other…

“You’re right, Alistair,” Rafael soon spoke, “but I think we’re doing great.”

“Say that to the Wardens outside of Ferelden.”

“Screw the Wardens outside of Ferelden, they don’t know what’s going on.” Rafael huffed, but offered an apologetic smile to Alistair. “I mean… They haven’t seen our team we built. We have a mabari, a Witch of the Wilds, a bard from Orlais, a qunari soldier, a healer touched by a spirit, an assassin from the Antivan Crows, a drunken dwarf, an awesome golem… Who have I missed?”

Alistair grinned, only then nudging the elf.

“You’re forgetting you.”

“What, the Dalish elf who was tainted and got tossed into the fire a day before Ostagar happened? No no, they'd sooner wipe my name from history the moment I died. I think instead it should be the would-be King of Ferelden, who deserves a lot more than what he’s gotten in the past.” A pause. “I’m… Sorry. Whatever title you’ll get won’t really matter, not to me at least. You’re still Alistair, whether it be Grey Warden or King of Ferelden, or just… Alistair.”

“No, it's okay. You're right. They'll probably see you as a Dalish elf for a while, then say you're just an elf out of nowhere, and then conveniently forget you were ever an elf after you die.” Alistair frowned. “People never liked to regard elves in a positive light. I think it’s wrong of them to do that, you’re a wonderful person and a good friend.”

“But it won’t change much once we’re both gone, summoned by the Calling.”

Rafael grabbed a nearby stick and poked at the fire in front of him, ignoring Banal’ras. Alistair frowned, kept petting the mabari, but freed a hand to place on the other’s shoulder.

“You know I’ll always tell everyone who you really are.”

“And it won’t do much good in the end, will it? I can see it now. The nobles of Orlais saying I am no elf, using my name as the ultimate scapegoat. The fearful ones in the Free Marches claiming I could never be an elf, no less a Dalish one, who saved the world from ultimate destruction. Not without a lot of help. They’d sooner say you were the one to save us all.”

“I’d tell them that you had very limited help; you even insisted on doing most things yourself, which is true, because you’re stubborn.”

“Stubborn as… What? A druffalo?”

“No, no, more like stubborn as a drake. Those bastards are tough.”

“So are halla, actually.” A smirk from the elf. “But they’re prettier and nicer.”

Alistair laughed. “Prettier and nicer? Is that your criteria, then?”

“Only if you think so.”

It was said so quickly that Rafael didn’t know what he had implied, only seeing the confusion written across the other Warden’s face. After a few moments of silence, the elf staring back at Alistair in search for answers, it finally clicked and he gasped in shock.

That was the last thing he was meant to say.

“Wait! I mean-- ugh, fenedhis, I didn’t… I wasn’t saying…”

“Hold on, Rafael. Relax.” Alistair laughed, albeit sheepishly. “Wow. Didn’t think that would be what you freak out over. Bold and daring Rafael Mahariel, freaking out over a response.”

Rafael huffed, turning his gaze away. “It was just a slip-up. Don’t think anything of it.”

The older Warden quirked an eyebrow. Before questioning the other, Alistair turned his attention to the mabari, giving a final pet before quietly shooing him away, promising more pets if he listened. As soon as Banal’ras got up and instead lazily walked to Leliana and Zevran on the other side of the fire, the blond focused on Rafael again; said elf was still poking at the fire, blue eyes trained on the flames, almost in a trance.

Alistair almost felt bad for the poor guy, knowing what he had been through already.

“I think it was more than just a slip-up. I don’t know, I may not be the smartest person here -- and Morrigan would be happy to hear that from me -- but this seems like it means more to you.” When he was given no reply, Alistair picked at his skin, blunt nails scratching across the surface but light so there were no marks, no cuts or scratches. “If it makes you feel better, you definitely suit a halla more. Those halla we saw with the Dalish clan in the Brecilian Forest? They were beautiful.”

“Don’t say it if it doesn’t mean anything to you, Alistair.”

“But it does mean something to me. Rafael, it’s okay to feel… Not-so-platonic feelings. It’s squibbly and weird, yes, but it doesn’t mean you have to hide it.”

“Is that what you’ve gotten out of tonight? That I have feelings for you, because I gave you a compliment?” I do. And now that you know, I fear you might see me differently, or worse, think less of me. “I don’t. It was just a compliment to make you feel better, and to eventually tell you that you’ve been a good friend to me and that I’ll forever be in your debt. What I said before was a slip-up and I didn’t think about it. Don’t look into it so much.”

He could feel his regret rising, choking his throat and halting his breathing, as he spared a half-hearted glare to the Warden beside him. A part of him didn’t want to admit that he was afraid. A part of him didn’t want to admit the truth to his best friend.

Rafael would sooner travel to the Deep Roads alone than admit the truth.

“Sorry,” was the reply he got from Alistair. A glance away, focused on the ground, a quiet mutter of an apology that wasn’t his to make. “It was rude of me to assume.”

Rafael didn’t respond.

Alistair frowned, but stood. “Well, if nobody needs me for the night, I’ll be… Ahem. In my tent. Over there. Away from everyone else.”

An announcement made half-heartedly, with a wavering voice. Rafael knew it meant that he thought it was his fault, his fault for assuming and for upsetting his friend, thinking he was in the wrong instead of Rafael -- feeling discarded, unwanted. Feelings that the elf knew with his knowledge of Alistair’s past that were too common, yet haven’t been felt in the past year. He watched Alistair enter his tent without another word, Banal’ras soon following him.

The silence that followed from Rafael was ever consuming; no sarcastic, witty remarks in response to Zevran’s flirting. No bitter, but almost playful exchanges with Sten. No fun mockery, no short stories from a nomadic lifestyle, nothing but silence and saddened stares into the flames of the fire.

When the Warden finally resigned to his tent, Zevran and Leliana spared a glance between each other.

“Our friends most certainly cannot keep this up. As fun as it was to watch our dear Warden fumble over his words with Alistair, tonight has ended in a disaster neither of us saw coming, yes? Dear Leliana, perhaps it is time to intervene.”

“Indeed. I think it is time we talk to the both of them. Though I would not trust you in talking to Alistair -- you would sooner embarrass him.”

“Ah, but Leliana, that is part of the fun! And the encouragement, of course. To embarrass that man is to encourage him to follow after his desires, much like how he may or may not desire our dear Warden…” A lighthearted laugh. “A shame. If only I were the one to convince him to cross that border for myself.”

“Please, Zevran, focus on the task at hand.” Leliana crossed her arms, staring at the Antivan.

He simply laughed in response. “Yes, yes, of course, my dear Leliana. Talk to Rafael, explain to him why he should be open with his feelings, convince him to talk to dear Alistair… And then see where that goes from there.”

“And I shall talk to Alistair, tell him of the situation at hand. I will ensure him that whatever he feels, he must be honest with Rafael. Let’s hope this ends well.”