Alistair's eyes flashed over the scene as his fellow warden Aedan Cousland yet again entered that sadistic, bitch´s tent. His smile laced with affection that mirrored on Morrigan´s usually cold and stoic complexion. The rest of their companion's didn´t seem to react as the two closed the tent behind them and left the rest of the camp in silence.
Alistair couldn´t help but flinch as he heard Aedan´s moans resonate in the night followed by Morrigan´s sultry words. He felt sick to his stomach and stood up, almost stepping on Aedans trustworthy mabari Fattie as he stormed out of the camp. Leliana and Wynne exchanged concerned glances before they continued making tonight's frugal dinner.
Alistair couldn´t believe it, why did it have to be this way? Why couldn´t he look at them? How could it hurt so much? Just seeing them together made him want to just curl up in a ball and sink through the earth.
He stopped running as soon as he was out of ears and eyes reach from the camp.
The forest was quiet, except for the occasional sound of the animal's nightlife.
He pulled his sword and began channeling his rage on the innocent nearby trees.
Alistair didn´t understand. What was this? It was like anger mixed with sadness.
He stopped, his white undershirt drenched in sweat and the tree was nothing more than stump.
He realized. Was he jealous? He couldn't believe it! Jealous, of Aedan?
No, there was no way! He hated Morrigan, with passion. He´d heard from some of the younger sisters in the chantry that boys tease the girls they´re in love with. No, absolutely not. There was no love between him and Morrigan. Just hate. But then it would mean...that he was jealous of…Morrigan?
His face burned as he realized. Aedan was a friend, JUST a friend. A friend who helped him cure Eamon. A friend who found his mothers amulet, a friend who stood up for him against his sister. A friend who was there for him with a shoulder to cry on when Duncan was lost…
He sat down and buried his face in his hands.
Damn it.
Damn it all.
He didn´t want to lose the only person that didn´t treat him differently or like a bastard. Aedan was the only one he could really count on when he really needed him.
He sat down on the tattered stump and buried his head in his knees.
A sudden noise snapped him out of his melancholy.
"Fret not dear Alistair, ´tis only me."
And from the untamed hawthorn bushes, the elven assassin step forward.
Alistair never understood why Aedan had decided to spare that stupid elves life, he had been sent by Loghain to kill them all. But of course, Aedan wouldn´t kill him. Aedan never killed anything other than darkspawn and the occasional bandit. That would one day be the death of him. The bronzed, fair-haired elf treaded with graceful steps over the broken branches and twigs before he settled down on a boulder resting his smug chin on his knuckles.
Alistair frowned at the smirk and stood up to leave.
"Aah… My friend, you seem a little tense. Please tell me what´s bothering you." Zevran interrupted, the devilish smirk still plastered on his face.
"I´m not your friend." Alistair bluntly stated.
Zevran was not faced, instead he chuckled lightly and shook his head.
"My dear Alistair, you wound me. What have I done to deserve such treatment?"
"Yeah, keep joking, I still don´t trust you." Alistair answered with his eyes narrowed.
Zevran´s smirk was replaced with a gentle, almost hurt smile.
"All right then my dear, I shall leave you alone to mope over your lost love."
Alistair flinched, and just as Zevran was about to stand up and leave he felt Alistair´s hand grab a hold of his in a stiff grip.
"Wait."