Alistair was standing at the moment, pacing around the campfire when Terriwyn quit her tent. The elder of the two Gray Wardens pretended to watch her without any interest as she dropped her armor into a heap at the campfire. It seemed apparent that she planned to clean it while she relieved Alistair of his watch shift. It was just now midnight; her timing was impeccable.

She seemed a petite, average woman without the armor. Placing her gear carefully on the ground, her green gaze turned up towards his, "Alistair?"

He was pretending not to notice her arrival. "I'm here," he called from the far side of the campfire.

"It's my turn for watch. Go get some sleep."

Alistair stepped over towards her and paused by her armor heap. She settled on the ground and focused on her gear. Alistair had a question burning on his mind, but he was not comfortable enough to ask it. He stood above her and she busied herself in what she was doing, either unmoved by his presence or uncaring, he wasn't sure which.

Alistair knew this was not like her; she was always so warm and talkative. However, Alistair heard her screams and her shrieks in her sleep as he stood watch this night. He wondered if she had more dreams of the Archdemon... that worried him, because he was not having the nightmares himself. Was it possible that she was just more sensitive to the nightmares then he because he was a Gray Warden for longer? However, if the Archdemon were getting closer to them…

She turned her round, pretty face up towards his. He was still standing there dumbly, and she quirked a curious eyebrow into the air. "Is all well with you, Alistair?"

I should ask you the same question, he thought.

He openly fidgeted to the question, "Well, I –ah, I was wondering about… the shield you carry," he bent down and picked it up the distraction. "It is of excellent make – and the symbol on the outside seems familiar to me. Is it your family's crest?"

Her back when straight and she froze momentarily. Then, she slowly looked up at him, a fake, soft smile plastered on her face, hiding some sort of sadness behind it "Yes. It's my family crest. It was my… father's shield."

"Well, it's very… nice. I just wanted to – mention it." So, no dice.

"Thank you."

She glanced at the shield for a long, thoughtful moment, and then turned back to her armor. She was gripping her rag so hard her knuckles were turning white. Alistair noticed she was rubbing so furiously in the same spot he was afraid she was going to rub a hole right through the breastplate.

Terriwyn was trying so hard to hide whatever it was that was bothering her, and Alistair felt like a fool because he knew nothing about her or about how to calm her down. Did his comment about the shield offend her?

Alistair decided to drop to the ground beside her.

She rubbed furiously and never took her gaze from her armor, "Aren't you tired, Alistair?" he got the sense she was trying to send him off.

"No… not really," he lied, feeling the symptoms of exhaustion tugging at his limbs and his eyelids. "However, if I polished my breastplate as hard as you did I might be," he quipped.

She seized up instantly and dropped the rag to the dirt. She avoided his gaze and placed her hands on the shield by her lap, "I'm… I'm sorry."

Alistair's stomach tightened up, and he bumped her shoulder with his, "For what? You mean you aren't planning on blinding the darkspawn with the reflection from your armor? I think it's a good tactic , I mean, sight is so overrated anyway—"

Alistair looked over to her a noticed a small smile playing on her lips, and he relaxed a little bit. "You should be more diligent with your armor – maybe the darkspawn wouldn't be drawn to the smell," Terriwyn answered victoriously.

He put his hand over his heart and made foolish death gestures, "Ouch… you stabbed my pride, dear lady—and you didn't even need your sword!" Alistair also removed his breastplate from his torso and put it on the ground. He placed his sword and shield down, but within reach, "Perhaps you're right. You need to give me a lesson in caring for my armor."

"Right now?"

"There's never any time like the present."

They shared a small, shy laugh. A light breeze blew past them. Terriwyn put her armor to the side and looked up at the stars. Alistair was mindlessly tending to his, and then put it to the side as well.

Alistair swallowed and put his hand over her on her lap. Her felt her tighten up – only momentarily, like a reflex – and then immediately relax. She seemed to be shaking. "Terriwyn," he started slowly, "did you have another nightmare about the Archdemon?"

He got lost for a moment in her jade-fire green eyes when she looked at him indignantly. He tried to amend quickly, "It's nothing to be ashamed of. I remember my first nightmare – Duncan 'forgot' to tell me and I damn near hid under my bed."

She didn't say anything and sighed. "You… heard me?"

He nodded and quickly apologized, "I should have warned you," he finished, taking the blame.

Alistair caught her looking at the shield again. He wanted so much for her to open up, and he felt like a stumbling idiot. Never before had he met a woman that made him feel such extreme emotions – he never felt so nervous or unsure of himself in anyone else's company in their little band but her's; then spent all his time covering for himself by making jokes.
Alistair's warm hand was still wrapped around her smaller one. He looked at her soft, feminine hand with the pretty nails and the long fingers. They looked like a noblewoman's hands despite her training as a warrior. Her hands were so cold – and he wasn't sure – but it felt as if her hands were shaking, too. She did not resist his touch and Alistair felt shockwaves pulsing through his forearm.

A long moment passed between them thus. No words were spoken – none were needed.

"I didn't have a nightmare about the Archdemon," she said quietly after some time.

He turned to her, confusion in her eyes, but he nodded to encourage her to continue.

Her brows furrowed. "Didn't Duncan tell you anything about me?"

"Uh, well… as I recall Duncan went to Highever about recruiting a man named Ser Gilmore if memory serves. He sent me ahead to meet him in Ostagar. I was surprised when I met you there and I found a woman. So, no – Duncan did not tell me much of anything about you. There was never time."

She sighed. "I am from Highever – my father was Teyrn Bryce Cousland."

"Your skill with a sword betrays your nobility," he explained, knowing he was dumbly filling the void with idle talk, "I would have never guessed. I thought the daughters of teyrns would be – I don't know – picking flowers or brushing their hair or something. But not a warrior…"

Terriwyn shrugged, "My father had my brother and I both trained. He taught us to both be strong, fair, confident. My mother was not too fond of my training, but Father insisted. Even though I am in my twentieth season, I think Mother wanted me to walk around with long dresses and flowers in my hair all the time," she mused.

Alistair pictured her in long skirts and smiled to himself. All that nobility… and she wasn't married. Maker's breath, she wasn't even stuck up about it, either. Not like the people he met growing up at Eamon's.

"She used to tell me it was the 'softer arts' that made my father fall in love with her," she paused, looking into the fire. "My mother held many parties and such, hoping I would find a husband, but I usually just flashed my sword 'round a bit and they ran."

He smirked at her and picked her chasing the men off, but she was not facing him, so she didn't notice. He just nodded encouragingly, allowing her to speak of whatever was on her heart.

"My mother would get so furious… but my father would laugh and laugh. Oh, Maker – how I will miss that laugh." She sighed heavily. "I guess it doesn't matter now," she said sadly, as her eyes welled up. A single tear slid down her cheek and she hung her head. She seemed about to lose it all.

Alistair's daydream faded away, "What do you mean?" his throat was dry.

Terriwyn took a deep breath, "The Arl of Amaranthine, Rendon Howe – he, my father, and my brother Fergus were to march to Ostagar with their troops for the battle," her voice cracked and she stopped. She bowed her head. "The King promised me justice and now I have none!"

Alistair said nothing, feeling his stomach stretch tighter than a drum. She was always so curious of everyone else's story, no one ever listened – or even cared to ask – for her's. Alistair felt like he was privy to something the rest were not.

"Howe betrayed my father the night before the battle. Howe mortally injured my father, and my mother stayed behind to defend him, to buy me time. Duncan found me as my father was bleeding to death… and he dragged me off, kicking and screaming, to Ostagar, to become a Gray Warden."

Alistair's mouth was hanging open slightly. "Oh, Terriwyn… I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Your name, the crest – I should have recognized it and been more sensitive."

"It's … there was no way for you to know."

"I just wish there was something proper I could say," he squeezed her hand inside his.

To his surprise, she leaned her head against his shoulder. He froze for a moment and wrapped his arm around her small frame. Grief does strange things to women, he figured. The scent of her brown hair filled his nose and he felt his knees go weak – thank the Maker they were sitting.

"I keep seeing my parents in my dreams, bleeding out, and dying… I feel like I failed them."

Alistair was shocked she was opening up, surprised that their "fearless leader" was so… human. "How could you even say that? You've become a Gray Warden, the leader of our group, you're working to save Ferelden, and you're defending others from the Blight. I know they're proud of you."

She nodded her head and stared into the fire, "No," she was shaking her head, "I should have stayed and defended them until the death – and instead I ran."

"That," he warned, "is your grief getting the better of you. What did you tell me when I said I wished I was in the battle with Duncan? When I said I felt like I abandoned him?"

"I told you that we need you..."

"Your parents sacrificed themselves for you because they knew you were meant to do something greater." Alistair grimaced, "And if we don't end the Blight, we'll met the Maker soon enough ourselves."

Terriwyn seemed to consider his advice. She wiped the tear stains on her cheeks with her palms.

"You're right. Forgive me… I didn't mean to get upset."

"After the way you let me blubber on about Duncan I owed you one," he patted her shoulder. "We're the last Gray Wardens. We need stick together, help each other out."

She nodded, sighed, and seemed to get a grip on her grief for now, "I suppose you're right, Alistair, but don't you want to go to sleep? We leave at first light for Redcliffe."

He smiled, pulled himself a bit closer to her side and squeezed her hand, her presence making all his tiredness melt away to be replaced with a boyish infatuation, "Nah. I'm enjoying the company."