Disclaimer: I don't own DA or any of its characters.

A/N: The lead female is an OFC, and though some may not like OFCs in their fics, I urge you to please give this OFC a chance. =)

Part I

Denerim

She wiped the sweat from her brow. It was the Pearl's busiest day of the week, and while she made quite a bit of coin by way of tips, she also had to deal with some of the more seedy members of the Pearl's clientele. Oh, who was she kidding? They were all pretty seedy. She'd lost count of how many men had slapped, pinched or groped her behind. She was sure that by the time her shift was over, her ass would be an angry shade of red. She gathered up the empty tankards left behind by the customers and carried them to the kitchen for a thorough washing.

"You know, if you want to quit this wretched job and join me, you're more than welcome, sweet thing…"

She looked over her shoulder while she continued to wash the tankards in an attempt to put a dent in the ever-increasing pile of dirty dishes. She smiled warmly at Isabela, who was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, her arms casually crossed over her chest. "You know I'd love to, but let's face it – I'd only slow you down. I'm a horrible cook, and useless with any sort of weapon."

"I beg to differ," Isabela replied, the corners of her lips curved upward knowingly. "I'm sure there would be plenty of things to do to keep you busy…you could finally hone your skills without fear of being caught by the Templars…though I doubt they've ever heard of Jacqueline Beaulieux…at least, not anyone outside of Orlais."

Jacqueline's eyes widened and she quickly averted her gaze and instead pretended to scrub a particularly nasty plate. "I don't know what you're talking about…"

Isabela sashayed behind Jacqueline. She pressed against the mage's back and gripped the sink on either side, pinning her in place. Jacqueline felt Isabela's warm breath against the nape of her neck. Her breathing hitched as the captain pressed her lips against Jacqueline's ear. "You have nothing to fear, your secret is safe with me." Just as Isabela brushed aside Jacqueline's blonde locks to allow easier access to her neck, the sound of a man clearing his throat echoed through the kitchen.

"Captain, you're wanted in the pub. Some elf is claiming to be an old friend of yours," announced one of the men from Isabela's crew.

Isabela rolled her eyes. "Very well," she leaned into Jacqueline one last time to kiss just behind her ear. "We'll talk later, kitten." She nipped Jacqueline's earlobe playfully, then turned and made her way to the Pearl's pub area.

Jacqueline sighed and wiped her hands on a drying cloth. She still had a few more customers to take care of before retiring to her bedroom. She entered the main area of the Pearl and stopped cold. Isabela was speaking with an elf - two in fact, but that's not what caused the colour to drain from her face. With trembling hands she picked up a serving tray. She was unsure as to whether or not she'd been spotted. Over the years she had many encounters with other mages (they of course had no idea that she possessed the same abilities that they did) and most of the time she conducted business with those who were members of the Circle. While everyone said that keeping the mages locked in a tower was for their own protection, Jacqueline knew the truth. They were feared. Especially by those that held them in captivity – the Chantry. If any of the Circle mages escaped, they were tracked down by the Chantry's strongest resource…the Templars. She'd always known that the Templars were quite passionate when it came to their calling, but she'd never known what their zeal led to. Working in an establishment like the Pearl allowed her to "overhear" certain tales regarding the Templars and their propensity to hunt down apostates no matter what the cost. There were a few patrons who believed that the actions of the Templars were abhorrent. Unfortunately, for the most part, it was those who held the Templars in high esteem that regaled their listeners with stories of the Templars' bravery, and how they defeated yet another apostate. What was even worse was the pleasure they found in describing every little detail of how the mages had suffered at the hands of their captors. It was for those reasons that Jacqueline kept such a low profile. It had been years since she last cast a spell. Despite being out of practice, she knew that her 'talents' were above average; and, as far as she knew, no one was aware of the fact that she could wield magic. Except for Isabella of course, but Jacqueline knew that once Isabela gave her word, she would never go back on it. Which begged the question…

Why was there a Templar standing near the front entrance?

"Alistair? Alistair! Snap out of it! Your staring is obviously freaking that poor woman out."

Alistair wasn't exactly listening to his fellow Warden. In fact, he wasn't even sure what Neria had just said to him. He was far too preoccupied by the young woman gathering the customers' dishes. She seemed a bit skittish, but that was not the reason he was staring at her. When she first entered the pub area of the Pearl, his eyes had very nearly popped out of his skull. His experience with women was non-existent. In fact, whenever he was in the company of a pretty girl that interested him, his stomach would begin to knot and he'd make inane comments that would inevitably ruin any chances of a budding romance. Which was why he was so surprised by his reaction to this woman. From her attire, it was clear that she was utterly oblivious to her sensuality. As he continued to watch her, he felt as though he was a predator stalking its prey – a feeling that was entirely foreign to him. He silently thanked the Maker that he was wearing a bucket on his head. Otherwise she would almost certainly see the expression that dominated his features. Hunger. She bent over to retrieve a mug that had fallen on the floor, which allowed him to see straight down her top, revealing a set of breasts so large that he could feast on them all-

"Alistair!" Neria kicked at his leg to gain his attention.

Somehow Neria was able to find the one spot on his leg that wasn't covered by his Templar armour. The fact that she was wearing such pointy boots just made matters worse. "Heeeeeey! What was that for?"

Neria rolled her eyes. "That woman you're gawking at is obviously not a fan of creepy stares. It also doesn't help that you have a bucket on your head."

"I'll have you know that just yesterday someone complimented me on my choice of bucket!" He folded his arms over his chest in mock defiance. "Besides, how can you tell what I'm looking at? For all you know I could be staring at that lovely dwarven woman in the red dress."

Neria raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one with the beard?"

"She does have a beard, doesn't she? Well, I've always had a thing for…rugged women."

"No, you like your women the same way you like your wine – robust," Neria wiggled her eyebrows at Alistair. "I can't say that I blame you, especially in this case. The things I could do to her – "

"Not listening!"

Neria smirked. "If you don't take that bucket off of your head, I'll freeze you and make you listen as I recount the time that Morrigan took on her spider form just as we were about to be intimate. I remember her crawling toward me, staring at me through those beady eyes. I invited her into my tent – she was still a spider at this point – and she wrapped those hairy legs right around my – "

"Maker's blood!" Alistair quickly removed his helmet lest he be forced to listen to even one more word of Neria's story. "There, are you happy?"

"My dear, much as I hate to interrupt your discussion with – what was it that Oghren called him? Ah yes, the pike twirler – we have more pressing issues to discuss," Zevran interjected. "This is an old friend of mine, Isabela, Queen of the Eastern Seas and the sharpest blade in Llomerryn. Isabela, this is the lovely Neria, and this is Alistair, her butler."

"Butler?!" Alistair said incredulously.

Isabela folded her arms over her chest. "Funny, he looks like a Templar to me."

Alistair scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, about that…technically I'm – " he was interrupted mid-sentence by a woman's cry.

"Look at that knife-eared bitch! Just strolls on in acting like she owns the place."

Jacqueline rolled her eyes. Such statements made by drunken customers were commonplace at the Pearl. With their liquid courage bolstering their egos, racist and classist comments spewed from their mouths quite readily. None of it was taken seriously. Once sober, these people would vehemently deny making any off-colour remarks.

"We should teach her a lesson!"

Jacqueline's eyes widened when she heard the sound of the drunkard's chair scrape against the floor. He's actually serious! She spun around and cried out to warn the elven woman of the attack. Only, she was too late. She watched in horror as the man's short sword plunged into the elf's back, skewering her on the spot. Within seconds the attacker was simultaneously decapitated and disembowelled. Jacqueline felt the bile rise up in her throat at the sight of blood spouting from the man's neck, not to mention the horror of witnessing his entrails spilling through the deep laceration spanning the entire length of his abdomen. After severing the attacker's head from his body, the Templar dropped to his knees and applied pressure to the young woman's wound. "Neria, I can't stem the flow for much longer. You need to heal yourself!"

Jacqueline saw the elf smile weakly. "You know how bad I am at healing…besides, I'm too…weak…to cast."

The Templar was on the verge of tears. "I can't do this without you…"

It was then that Jacqueline saw the dark pool of blood spreading from beneath the elf's body. There was no way she could survive such a fatal wound. The patrons started to gather around the Templar and the elf. As was the way with most people, their morbid curiosity overcame them and each of them wanted to witness the grizzly scene unfold. Jacqueline soon found herself at the edge of the crowd, having been elbowed and shoved aside until she was no longer able to assess how much time the elf had to live. Her gaze locked with Isabela's, who had always been able to read Jacqueline like a book. Isabela shook her head. Jacqueline knew that Isabela did not want her to put her life at risk by revealing herself as a mage in order to help a complete stranger. Especially if said stranger was travelling with a Templar. She chewed on the inside of her cheek while contemplating her next step. Cast the healing spell and get carted off by the Templar? Or leave the poor woman in agonizing pain? She realized that the latter option wasn't really an option at all. Living life while trying to keep such an enormous secret under wraps was becoming increasingly difficult. Set in her decision, she pushed her way through the throng of onlookers until she was able to kneel next to elven woman. The Templar barely registered her arrival and continued to apply pressure to the wound.

"Please move your hands," she said softly. The Templar ignored her. "The blade came from behind and went clean through. No amount of pressure on her chest will prevent her from bleeding out through her back."

The Templar glared at her. "And I suppose you have a better idea? I won't let her die!"

"I never said you had to," she replied calmly. "Please move your hands. I need to see how bad the wound is."

The Templar reluctantly complied. He watched as Jacqueline placed a hand on the wound. It was worse than she'd thought, but she wouldn't let that stop her. She closed her eyes and imagined the wound. She took deep breaths, willing the flesh and connective tissue to knit together. In doing so, she almost snatched her hand away. She'd forgotten just how much heat was exchanged when attempting such a potent healing spell. The more she concentrated, the faster she was able to heal. After what felt like an eternity, Jacqueline was satisfied that the elf was completely healed. After removing her hand, she saw no trace of the wound. Within moments, the elf's eyes fluttered open. The Templar exhaled loudly; his fear seemed to melt away and was replaced by his obvious relief. The elf she'd seen speaking with Isabella knelt down beside the Templar.

Jacqueline did a quick scan of the brothel's patrons and soon realized that it was the perfect time to slip away unnoticed. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind, she felt someone grab her arm. "Time to go, sweetness," Isabela whispered. They bobbed and weaved through the crowd until they reached Sanga, who directed them to an exit through the basement. When they emerged, they were quite a piece away from the front entrance of the Pearl. Jacqueline was out of breath from having to keep pace with Isabela.

"What now?" Jacqueline asked.

Isabela cupped Jacqueline's cheeks. "Now you run. Get as far from Denerim as possible." She reached into her satchel to retrieve one of several maps she kept handy in case (Maker forbid) she should ever find herself lost. "I think it best for you to travel to Redcliffe. I know that sounds crazy considering the Circle is in such close proximity, but I think the best solution is for you to hide in plain sight. You see this small body of water that eventually feeds into Lake Calenhad? As you travel down the Imperial Highway, you will come upon a sign directing to either Redcliffe or Lothering. That sign is your landmark."

"Landmark? For what?"

"I've buried a cache a few paces north of the sign," Isabela explained.

Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. "There must be hundreds of signs like the one you've just described. How will I be able to tell the difference?"

Isobela smirked. "Trust me, you'll know it when you see it. You'll find some weapons, clothing, and enough gold to set yourself up in Redcliffe."

"I don't…I don't know what to say..." tears welled up in Jacqueline's eyes, threatening to spill over. "Thank you so much," her voice was barely above a whisper.

Isabela pulled Jacqueline against her chest. "Trust me when I say that this will not be the last time we see each other, kitten. I'll show up when you least expect it."

Jacqueline smiled tearfully as she pulled away from the one person she knew she could trust. "I'm going to hold you to that."

Isabela removed a sack of silvers from her belt and handed it to Jacqueline. "For the road…you're in for a long journey."

Jacqueline gave Isabela one last hug before setting out on the road leading to Redcliffe. She'd barely walked twenty paces when she heard Isabela calling out her name. She turned her head and gazed over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"This time, try not to kill anyone," she said as the corners of her lips kicked up in an amused grin.

Jacqueline couldn't help but chuckle. "No promises."

"What do you mean you never saw her?" Alistair demanded. "She healed Neria in front of everyone! I even saw the two of you rushing off together."

Isabela's eyes remained impassive. "You were obviously distracted by all the commotion and thought you saw something that you didn't actually see. Don't be embarrassed, it happens to the best of us."

Alistair's patience was running thin. "I know what I saw," he said through clenched teeth.

"I just want to thank her for saving my life," Neria cut in. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes," Isabela replied. Before either Warden could interject, Isabela turned and walked away. Alistair stared daggers at her retreating form.

"Alistair, are you alright? I've never seen you act this way before."

Alistair blinked several times and noticed that Neria was staring up at him with open concern. "I…I really don't know what came over me…I just felt that I had to see her again. I wish she hadn't run off the way she did…"

"She was probably terrified that we would ship her off to the Tower," Neria said gently. "The fact that you're wearing Templar armour probably made it worse." She patted his arm reassuringly. "She seemed to be able to take care of herself. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Alistair wasn't convinced. All of his instincts screamed at him to track down this mysterious woman and protect her.

First order of business? Ditch the Templar armour.