A/N: Hello and welcome! Roonya here, this fic is a joint effort from two DA-crazy friends who write alternate chapters. I will be handling the odd-numbered chapters. Our story follows a female Dalish Warden and female city elf non-Warden, with the main romantic interests as Alistair and Zevran. Note that I use italics occasionally to relay the current character's thoughts. Also we've chosen to ignore certain game restraints, for instance the party maximum of four (further on in the story), because it seemed more realistic to us.

We no own Bioware's stuff.

It was morning already. Alistair could not remember the last time he had stayed awake all night, simply unable to get his thoughts under control. Of course there had been many a night when the Song invaded his thoughts and prevented him from sleeping, but last night, the ever-present threat of the Blight seemed to have been overtaken in importance by more personal considerations.

He was aware that continuing to entertain this manner of thinking could be dangerous in its indulgence, yet at the same time he wanted to slap the dutiful Grey Warden in him and tell him to pursue his own happiness for once. It was as if his eyes had been opened: he saw that most of his life had been governed by powers outside his control, and it was time for that to end. Admittedly, right now there was a Blight to cull, but, as far as his beliefs went, he only had one life and he was determined to make the best of it.

His thoughts were not entirely selfish. Far from it. Naturally, the feelings he held for his fellow Grey Warden dominated a lot of the thinking he did, besides of course wondering when their next meal would be. Having been around her almost constantly since Ostagar, he had not failed to notice her many attractive qualities. However, every time he allowed his mind to wander on the topic of her, it always led to a reminder of his ineptitude and he once again had to delay the prospect of telling her how he felt. She did seem to enjoy a spot of light flirting with him, that was for sure, but Lys was a difficult elf to read. Besides, reading people was generally not one of Alistair's strong points.

The unfolding of yesterday's events had been unexpected to say the least. When their party had happened upon the home of Alistair's half-sister in the Denerim market district, conflicting emotions of excitement and panic brought forth dozens of questions in his head - How should I introduce myself? Do we resemble each other? Does she even know I exist? - and with each quickening heartbeat he became increasingly incapable of speaking at a normal pace.

'Do I seem a little nervous? I am, I really don't know what to expect, I'd like you to be there with me, if you're willing... Or we could leave, I suppose! We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we, maybe we should go...'

'Alistair.' Her unflinching stare compelled him to meet her eyes, although he could only maintain the contact for an instant.

'My sister...' he went on, 'It sounds very strange. Sister... Seees-teeerr.' As he fought to control his verbal diarrhoea the darned elf walked straight up to Goldanna's door, rapped her knuckles smartly on the aged wood, and waited patiently for it to open.

'Well that was... I can't believe it. I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I... I feel like a complete idiot.' The hollowness of his tone cut through her, making her ache to draw him into an embrace.

She checked herself. Creators, not now. She sighed sadly. 'Everyone is out for themselves, Alistair. At least, nearly everyone. You should learn that.'

'I guess you're right, judging from that ugly display. I feel so... confused. You must think me dreadfully naïve.' He paused then, as if debating internally whether or not to ask her something. '...Do you have any family? I mean, if you don't mind my asking. It's strange how little I know about you...'

'Well, that's because I don't offer out details about myself freely. If you really want to know, however...'

'I do.'

Lys thought about it. No simple answer there. 'Yes and no. My father was slain when I was an infant, my real mother disappeared not long afterwards. She who raised me yet lives with my clan, or so I trust. The clan is a family. Or was... my family.' She shook her head slightly. 'I'd rather not speak of it.'

'Right. I'm just trying to understand. When Goldanna spoke to us like that... it does seem like all she wanted was money.' He rubbed the place on his forehead where shallow lines formed.

'From what I've seen of human society, most care little for anything outside their own personal circle...' Lys waved her hand lamely towards the market stalls; a movement that she knew made little sense. She wondered fleetingly whether she was becoming more human in her mannerisms, despite herself.

'I have to admit I agree, as much as it saddens me,' he replied. His quiet words had moved her. This revelation was like a loss of innocence for him, in a way.

'You don't need that woman in your life, Alistair. Blood is not the best adhesive anyway,' a smirk flickered across her lips as she attempted to distract him from his bitter disappointment. 'I think Duncan alone should have proved that to you.' She suddenly found herself regretting this path of conversation as soon as she had embarked upon it. Alistair was now staring steadily at an unremarkable pebble in the gutter, unblinking. His face was set in a grim expression. Is he fighting back tears again? She tensed her abdomen in discomfort.

'I... I mean, I'm sorry it turned out this way.'

Somewhere inside her the Dalish pride cringed at saying sorry to a human, but on the outside she reached out, hesitantly, towards a gauntleted hand, searching his face for anything other than anguish. After a moment, he seemed to regain some composure, and she nudged him gently. 'Let's track down the others and get ourselves fed. Come on.'

She half turned to go, but he remained unmoving. With voice both hoarse and tender, he added, 'Lys, before we go, can I just say… thank you?' He finally tore his eyes away from the gutter and met hers once more.

She said nothing.

'For supporting me in there. Even though it turned out to be a waste of time.' He looked almost painfully apologetic.

She sighed once more. 'At least now you don't have to wonder. Don't thank me – actually I came very close to showing her what I thought of her, as well as telling her.' She tightened her fists in recollection. 'The Dalish have a word for one such as her. Asha seth'lin, "woman of thin blood". To me it is a terrible thing to call a person, though I doubt such a phrase bears the same impact in the common tongue.'

Something behind her seemed to catch his eye, and he was distracted from replying.

'Uh, we have company,' he managed eventually. Her head snapped around, but the interrupter was just a cheery Leliana. She wore an enigmatic sort of smile as she sauntered up to them.

'Still here? Well you are finished now, no? Let us return to the tavern together, Zevran's banter was getting out of hand. I daresay it seems even Wynne felt flustered.' Lys noted with mild irritation an unmistakable glint in her eyes – which told Lys that her motive for seeking them out may have been other than the one she gave. Although, that was not to say she wouldn't put it past the Antivan.

He sought her out during the sobering lull between the regular drinkers leaving for their homes and the silence of the deep night. As he expected, she was delaying turning in for bed with what seemed to be her favourite evening pastime: meticulously examining her elven blades for new nicks and faults, and beeswaxing her longbow. She was kneeling on the floor, facing away from the room's entrance. He always liked seeing her in the freer clothing she wore in these moments of respite, though its appeal was quite different from that of her minimalistic Dalish armour. This style made her look more approachable and it set him at ease.

'Don't you ever take a break?' he said.

Naturally, she was not caught off her guard. He had learnt by now that she didn't need to see him coming to know he was there, even though he was presently relieved of his giveaway clunky gear. He had not thought to knock because her door was already open, a fact which might have struck him as odd had his mind not been so preoccupied. She made no reply, but he was used to her reservedness.

'You seem to really enjoy doing that,' he observed.

She manoeuvred around before sitting back down on her heels, her brow furrowed. 'I think of it as solace. Many, many beings have now been slain by these tools, living and dead, and the killing is far from over. Many deserved it of course, for others it was unfortunate, but nonetheless I tire of being the one to deliver them. This helps me, somehow.'

Alistair wasn't sure if she'd ever spoken so many consecutive words to him. He didn't know how to respond, so he just watched for a moment while she scratched off a speck of some stubborn substance from her bow before proceeding over the patch with the wax.

She glanced in his direction without pausing in her work and spoke, 'Surely you've not come here just to watch me polish my equipment. You don't seem the voyeuristic type...'

He broke into a bashful grin. 'Well, no, admittedly.' He moved to kneel down opposite her, an impish smile brightening his eyes. 'You know, I've been thinking...' He paused, trying to find the right words.

She raised one eyebrow. 'A rare event worth informing me of, I'm sure.'

'Oh, ha ha, very funny. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about today.' At this she did stop and pay full attention. 'You told me I needed to look out for myself more than I do. I need to stop letting everyone else make my decisions for me. I need to take a stand and think about myself for a change, or I'm never going to be happy.'

Lys smiled broadly at him, and the weariness all but left her eyes. He was struck by how attractive she looked, pulling this smile out of nowhere - he was far more familiar with her lopsided smirk. He decided he liked both.

'It's about time.' She directed her attention back to the bow in her lap but the pretty smile lingered on, and he could not deny his excitement knowing that it was he who had put it there. It encouraged him.

'I should have done it a long time ago.' They knelt in comfortable silence for a while, until he decided he couldn't bear it any longer. 'So, all this time we've spent together... you know: the tragedy, the brushes with death, the Blight looming over us... will you miss it when it's over?'

She looked up from her task, a dubious look on her face. 'Miss it? Oh, of course. Are you getting at something, Alistair?'

He gulped. 'I know... it might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I have come to... care for you. A great deal.' He tried to sound confident and firm, but as she looked up into his eyes, it was hard not to waver. 'Lys, I wanted to say, meeting you is the one bright spot out of everything that's happened.'

It appeared that her bow no longer held any interest for her. She had raised her head with a slight jerk and a wayward lock of blonde landed between some of her eyelashes. She stared at him questioningly for a second, and all at once he became aware of how small the distance was between them, and he reached out to tuck away said lock of hair, leaving a trembling hand on her pointed ear. The effect this innocent gesture had on her was quite extraordinary. Then again, he could probably count on one hand how many times there had been physical contact between them. The continued eye contact was electrifying.

Her lips found his. As she leaned into the kiss his hand brushed over her ear and rested lightly in her hair, rough fingers cradling her head. His other hand lay limp in his lap, forgotten by him, until she took it and guided it towards her waist. Their lips moved with lustful urgency. She raised herself from sitting on her heels and leant slightly over him, betraying the extent of her desire in a small way. The bow had thunked off her lap onto the stone floor, though it went unheard.

Her hands came to rest around his neck, and Alistair responded by shifting his arms further around her, pulling her body gently in until their torsos were almost touching, but not quite. He was not so bold, though he cursed himself for it.

He needn't have. Lys was lost to the kiss. She threw caution to the wind and delicately touched her tongue to his lips, causing him to open his eyes, partly in surprise, partly because of the sudden wave of arousal that the tiny movement had instigated in him. Because she sensed that he had opened his eyes she did the same, and pulled back a few inches from his face to gauge if she had done wrong.

He guessed that the look on his face quickly reassured her, even though he was momentarily unable to tell her as much. As if remembering who she was, she took back her arms from around his neck, reluctantly, and sat back down on her heels. Her unfocused gaze settled on her weapons, sprawled on the floor around them.

He made a lame attempt to clear his throat, and grinned stupidly at her. 'What... exactly just happened?'

'Something...'

She was adorable in her confusion. He made to lean in again, his eyes closed, scared to wake from what must surely be a dream. But the reality of the bedroom around them must have rung alarm bells in her head, because she placed her hands on his linen-clad chest to stop him gently.

'Alistair… You had best get yourself to your own room, else I fear neither of us will get any rest tonight.'

Now he was genuinely embarrassed. That was abrupt.

'I didn't mean—I'm—...Not that I...' Note to self: stop talking. 'I'll... see you tomorrow.' Obviously.

'Yes, good night.'

Alistair got up and walked to the exit in a daze, closing the door softly behind him.