Alistair sat and watched Zakyla stretch in her sleeping roll and slowly rise. She was the new Grey Warden Duncan had initiated before the massacre at Ostagar. She was also a mage. Alistair had been taught most of his life how dangerous mages could be. However, as he watched Zakyla throw water on her face from the wash basin, he could not for the life of him ever consider her dangerous.

Of course, that was untrue. She had proven herself time and time again on the battlefield against the darkspawn. She wielded her magic with such ease. In his time at the Chantry, Alistair had noticed something about mages he was not sure anyone else had. The mages who had violet eyes seemed to be more powerful than any others. Zakyla's eyes flamed violet with a hint of lavender. She also had a delicate face tattoo on each side of her temples and cheeks. Alistair admired them, but knew he could never stand to have such a thing done to his own face. He would not want to accidently ruin it.

She walked slowly over to Morrigan and asked to borrow the hand mirror she had gotten her as a gift. Alistair felt a sneer rise to his lips. Morrigan was one mage the Chantry had been right about. She was a devious apostate and by all rights of the definition, dangerous. He could not for the life of him understand why Zakyla would have taken Flemeth's advice and brought Morrigan along on the journey. Morrigan was a snake in the grass and Alistair wondered just when she would strike.

Zakyla looked at herself in the mirror briefly and then muttered a few words. Her face shimmered and when she cleared, he could see her hair was done perfectly and her makeup was fresh. Alistair chuckled, she was the only Warden he had ever known who cared about her appearance while fighting the darkspawn. Watching Zakyla, Alistair wondered if most of the Wardens relied upon their unkept appearances to frighten the darkspawn on the battlefield. It was true that a lot of the men Alistair had fought alongside with were just as frightening looking as the darkspawn in the mornings.

Zakyla smiled at her appearance and handed the mirror back to Morrigan. Morrigan rolled her eyes and tucked the trinket back into her pack. Alistair found himself smiling. He was not sure why Zakyla cared so much about her appearance, but part of him mused that it was simply to exasperate Morrigan. He knew that Morrigan thought highly of herself, but she could never compare to Zakyla. Even without the magic makeup, Zakyla was the most stunning woman Alistair had ever seen. He sighed contented, the smile still on his face.

"And what are you smiling so oafishly at? What must you be thinking?" Snapped Morrigan in her usual morning timber.

Alistair lost his smile. He was not in the mood to deal with Morrigan. "Nothing."

"Ah, now that I can believe, nothing is going through that head of yours," Morrigan jeered.

"Can't you go find a bridge somewhere and live under it?" Alistair grumbled.

Morrigan opened her mouth to reply when Zakyla stepped in.

"Alistair, we seem to be running low on supplies. Would you mind coming into town with me and we can procure some food?"

Alistiar's smile flickered back to his face. "Of course!"

Morrigan groaned in disgust, but Alistair ignored her. Zakyla held her hand out to him. He took it and she helped pull him to his feet. His heartbeat quickened as he stood up and found himself incredibly close to Zakyla. She looked up at him, her violet eyes flashing merrily.

"Let us be off, then." She said in a silky tone.

Alistair cleared his throat and then nodded, unable to speak for a moment. They gathered their weapons and armor and began into town. Zakyla's mabari, Rikkus, invited himself along for the journey. Alistair eyed him warily. He was not a dog person and the hound seemed to know it. Frequently, Alistair would find his boots chewed to bits or the hilt of his sword covered in mabari slobber. Of course, Alistair was not innocent in all of this. He, too, would play tricks on the mabari hound. Once, when the hound was sleeping, Alistair attached a stick and string to his collar with a piece of mutton securely tied to the string.

Rikkus had torn through the camp in his attempt to grab the juicy morsel that was always just inches out of his reach. Alistair had laughed so hard that night. Once Zakyla had calmed the hound and showed him the trick of the floating meat, Rikkus' eyes had landed on Alistair. Somehow, he knew it had been Alistair's trick. From then on, the two had an interesting relationship based on mutual pranks. As they walked, Alistair had been thinking of a device he could fashion and put around Rikkus' neck, taking away the hound's pleasure of licking himself. Alistair grinned widely at the thought.

Zakyla led the way on the path. Alistair could not help but notice how nice it was to watch the movement of her hips as she walked. He had been wrestling with some confusing feelings for her for some time now. She was the leader of their band against the darkspawn incursion. She was much newer to the Grey Wardens than him, but she was headstrong and powerful. She was a born leader. She was also his friend, the first close friend he felt he had made since meeting Duncan. Still, he felt a stirring for her. As if he wanted more from her, as if he wanted to give her more.

He shrugged off the feeling. Besides, he was an ex Templar and she was a mage. In what realm could they possibly have anything in common? The only reason they had anything in common now was the threat of the Blight. That is what had brought them together and when the Blight ended, they would go about their separate lives again.

The thought saddened Alistair and he pushed it from his mind. He had fallen slightly behind Zakyla and quickened his pace to catch up. His foot landed upon a soft patch of dirt and it caved under him. He yelped as he fell facedown to the rough path. He was able to stop most of the impact with his shoulder and save his face. When he looked up, Rikkus stood above him, his tongue hanging out and panting. Alistair saw his paws were covered in fresh dirt.

"You did this," Alistair growled. Rikkus chuffed in reply, a dog grin plastered to his face.

"Just you wait," Alistair mumbled, picking himself up slowly. "I have something horrible in store for you."

Rikkus whined and turned his head inquisitively towards Alistair.

Alistair brushed the dirt and twigs off his armor. "Oh, you better watch your back now, you mongrel. I'll get you when you least expect it!"

Rikkus yelped and ran up to Zakyla who had backtracked to see what had become of her companions.

"What happened to you?" She asked Alistair, her bright eyes wide with concern.

"I found a hole and you know how it is, I couldn't help but to step in it. I'm a sucker for punishment like that." Alistair glared at Rikkus.

Zakyla giggled and reached out, plucking another twig off the shoulder of his armor. "Are you hurt?"

Alistair laughed boisterously. "Hurt? Me? From a little fall? It will take more than that to harm a manly man like me!"

Zakyla smiled and gently swatted the shoulder he had landed on. Alistair held back a wince. "Come on then, manly man. We are burning daylight."

Zakyla trotted off down the path, Rikkus trailing behind her closely, throwing back a warily glance at Alistair.

Alistair rubbed his shoulder and continued down the path, plotting his revenge against the Andraste forsaken mongrel.

Inside the town, children ran through the marketplace, screaming and playing some sort of game. Merchants called out to each passerby, luring them in with promises of fantastic deals on hard to find items. Alistair breathed in deeply. He could smell freshly baked bread and his mouth watered.

Zakyla picked through some fresh fruits, smelling them as she chose them. Alistair was once again struck by her beauty and a longing desire to be with her.

"Alistair, try this!" Zakyla exclaimed. She placed a strawberry she had just purchased against his lips. He tentatively bit into it, trying to be delicate and not slovenly.

Zakyla took the rest of the strawberry and put it in her mouth and closed her eyes. She sighed softly as she savored it. Alistair swallowed his bite without tasting it. All he could see was her and the contented look she wore. He wished longingly that it were that easy to make her happy.

She grabbed his hand and took him to the bakers stand with the fresh breads. She began grabbing some hard rolls and baguettes when Alistair's eyes fell upon a most wondrous thing. His belly rumbled in anticipation and he could feel his mouth twitch.

It was a large wheel of cheese, aged just right and ready to be eaten. Alistair was blind to all else as he reached for the splendid yellow treat. His hand clashed with another hand also reaching for the cheese. Alistair jerked his head around to see who dare challenge him for his cheese wheel.

Zakyla blushed lightly under the touch of his hand. He blinked and pulled away.

"S..Sorry," he stammered.

"You almost lost your hand!" Zakyla teased. "I have an unholy love for cheese." She picked up the wheel and stuck it with the breads she was going to purchase. "All is lost unless I have cheese stocked in the pantry. Do you like cheese, Alistair?"

Alistair felt his heart raise into his throat. "Yes," he whispered softly. "I do."

Zakyla turned to pay for the goods and Alistair braced himself against the table. His heart thundered in his chest and he felt as if he were swimming. There could be no doubt in his mind any longer. This woman, this mage, was the woman of his dreams.