Chapter One

It had been a long, tiring day of slaying Darkspawn and saving damsels (all right, the last part wasn't actually true) and all Alistair had wanted was a warm meal and his tent. Wearily, he took a seat near the fire and observed his companions.

Morrigan, in her usual foul mood, had stalked off to the far end of camp, where she had put up her own tent; just as well, thought Alistair, he had no energy to argue with her. Leliana and Wynne were sitting together, exchanging stories about Orlais and the Circle respectively. If it had been any other night, he might have joined them for a little while, but he was too tired. Sten was standing a distance away, brooding and Zevran was sharpening his blades.

Alistair scowled at the elf, who was too preoccupied with his task to notice. He didn't trust this assassin not to kill them all in their sleep, and he had argued strongly with Cordelia about recruiting him, but in the end she had gotten her way and Zevran was brought back to camp with them.

He had no idea why he even bothered trying to argue with her. She was as stubborn as a-

Wait, where is she anyway?

He craned his neck to look around the camp once more, but she was nowhere to be found. Her mabari, Calenhad, was digging to his heart's content, but she wasn't with him. Frowning, he glanced back to make sure Zevran was still nearby, before heaving himself to his feet and going off in search of her.

He walked through the forest, keeping an eye out for his missing friend, all the while his stomach grumbled in hunger. Ignoring it, he pressed on, and decided to check by the spring. He had just gotten within a few feet of the spring when he stopped, transfixed at the sight before him.

Cordelia stood with her back to him, completely naked. Her clothing and weapons lay by her feet and, as he watched, she walked towards the water. He could feel the blood rush to his face, and he hurried back the way he came, cursing under his breath.

Maker, he was an idiot. Why hadn't he thought that she had gone to bathe? Why else would she have gone off by herself? Why did she have to have such a perfectly shaped-

He was not going to finish that thought.

His face was positively burning by the time he got back to camp. Ignoring the looks the others were shooting at him, he quietly made a stew while trying, and failing, to push any image of his fellow Warden out of his head. When Cordelia finally got back to camp, he did his best to avoid eye contact and hurried into his tent.

Sometimes, it just takes the smallest things to make you see someone in a different light.

The first time Alistair and Cordelia Cousland met they hadn't gotten off on the right foot.

It had started off pleastently enough; he had made some jokes, she informed him she was a new recruit, and they went off in search of the other recruits and Duncan. The trouble started when her questioning of him moved into some sensitive subjects.

He had just finished telling her that he admired Duncan, and when he asked her for her opinion on the man, a she scowled and responded tersely:

"I'd rather not say."

He had bristled at the implied insult to Duncan but his irritation with her only grew from there. It was plain for anyone to see that she would rather be anywhere else than Ostagar and the closer they got to where Duncan, Daveth, and Jory were waiting the darker her mood got. She dodged his question of how she was conscripted and when he asked her if she wanted to be a Grey Warden, she looked him straight in the eye and said simply, "No."

By the time they had reached their destination, he had been angry and she had been sulking. He couldn't believe that Duncan had thought this cold, stand-offish (he was unsurprised when he found out she was a noble, she was haughty enough to be one) woman could make a good Grey Warden? She had no enthusiasm for the role and though, as he would soon learn, she was skilled with her daggers, she was much too reckless in battle.

After the third time he had had to rush to support her because she had rushed into a battle with a Darkspawn, it took all of his strength to stop himself from asking outright if she had some sort of deathwish.

In the back of his mind, he doubted her chances for surviving the Joining.

So of course, she was the only one out of the three to survive.

They had only started to become friends on the way to Lothering.

She had taken the lead, her dog (Calenhad, he thought its name was) trotted cheerfully beside her, while he and Morrigan followed behind her. He had been a thousand miles away, thinking about Duncan and if there could have been any way he survived, and he was barely managing to put one foot in front of the other.

Morrigan had no sympathy for him which she soon made apparent:

"So have you decided whether to fall on your sword in grief or not?"

He glared at her. "Is it so surprising to you that I would be sad? What would you do if your mother died?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing."

"Creepy. Is this the part where we're supposed to be surprised to learn that you've never had a friend in your life?"

The witch was about to snipe back at him when Cordelia who had been silent up until now, turned around and said, "Morrigan, leave Alistair alone. He's-"

Whatever she was about to say, that was the last straw for him. He could put up with Morrigan's insensitivity and insults but he would be damned if he'd receive pity from some spoiled noble who had probably never experienced a serious loss in her life. She hadn't even liked Duncan anyway.

He just started yelling at her, "Shut up, just shut up!" Startled she took a step back, and her dog started growling at him, but he ignored them and kept going, "Don't you dare feel sorry for me! You hated Duncan, don't pretend you feel sorry that he's dead! You have no idea what I'm feeling right now so don't even bother!"

He had stormed off then, enraged, and didn't return until he had calmed down. He had been ashamed of his outburst when he rejoined the others; Cordelia, despite her faults, had seemed sincerely concerned for him and he had screamed at her for it. He needed to apologize to her.

He approached her, ready to start apologizing, when she spoke: "My family was murdered."

Anything he had been about to say died on his lips at her admission. She, either not noticing or not caring about his shock, went on, "My family was betrayed by a friend of my father's, Renden Howe. His men attacked us in the dead of night, after most of our soldiers had left for Ostagar. I lost my parents, sister-in-law, and nephew all in one night and for all I know Fergus, my brother, could be dead by now too."

He wondered if he looked as surprised as he felt. She finished, "So yes, Alistair, I do know what you're feeling right now." Before he could reply, she walked off, leaving him to stare after her.

He felt like such an ass.

As awkward and tense as that conversation had been, their friendship improved after that. He opened up to her a bit more about Duncan and she listened; she even offered to go with him to Highever to give Duncan a proper funeral after the Blight was over.

At this point, he could say that they were finally good friends…and he was ruining it by thinking decidedly non-platonic thoughts about her.

Well, he wasn't going to let it ruin his friendship with Cordelia.

Even if it killed him.

Author's Notes: Constructive criticism is accepted.