Hey there! Lilliwyn is here with another sappy one-shot, but this time in a different fandom than those that she usually writes in.

In case you won't be able to tell, this story takes place right after Lothering as the party sets off for Redcliffe.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins. Bioware does.

Alistair moaned as a rustling sound outside woke him up from his peaceful sleep. Despite what most people thought of him, he was a very light sleeper, which didn't exactly help him get any rest while he traveled with this current noisy band of comrades. They were such night owls! Didn't they know how important sleep was? It must have been way too late for anybody to be out of bed. He sat up in his bedroll and rubbed his temples to try to prevent the inevitable headache that he felt coming to him. Surely there must be some way to keep his friends quiet.

Alistair pulled on his boots and threw on a cloak before opening the flap to his tent. He decided that he would go out and politely ask whoever was out there if he or she could possibly be a little more quiet. Was that such a hard thing to ask? He did really need his sleep, anyway. He braced himself against the nippy night air and stepped outside. The fire was smoldering and the sky was turning pink as the sun began to rise. Was it really already morning? He moaned as he stepped outside and saw that his noisy friend was nowhere in sight.

But someone was still out there; that he was certain of. Either that, or he was now beginning to hear things that weren't really there. He now heard gentle sobbing, and was that a lute playing? Alistair went around his tent and looked out at the clearing behind their little camp. There sat Leraen Cousland, the other Warden in their party and leader of their travels, with a lute in her lap. He also saw something glittering on her cheek. Were those tears? He wouldn't have expected to discover her to be outside sobbing in the middle of night, even with the little amount of time that he had been given to know her. He had never seen her cry before, not even after the disaster at Ostagar. What would make her so sad now?

Leraen Cousland was a mystery to him. She possessed such prowess with a dagger and a lock pick that Alistair doubted that she had ever lived in poverty, which he knew was an environment that forced people to learn such skills. But those thieves never performed as fluidly as she did. She also spoke so eloquently and gently that he assumed that she was very educated. She carried herself proudly and gracefully, almost as if she was royalty, but she never treated others as if they were under her. Alistair had secretly begun to admire her leadership and courage.

But yet, here she was, crying her eyes out while she gently strummed on the gut strings of her lute.

Go to her, Alistair, he heard his conscience tell him. No, he couldn't go to her! He wasn't good with women in the first place. How would he be any better with a crying one? He didn't even know her that well. He was sure that he would just turn into a babbling oaf like he tended to become when things caught him off guard or made him nervous. How would he know how to comfort the lady?

But then again, his heart ached to see her so sad. Were those sobs that he heard from her now? Before he could even control his feet, he felt them carry him over to the lady. Next thing he knew, he had plopped down next to her on the blanket that she sat on.

"Oh, Alistair, did I wake you? I didn't think that I was playing that loudly." Leraen wiped away her tears in an effort to get rid of the evidence of her emotional pain.

"Of course not, you haven't been playing very loudly at all." Liar, his conscience spoke again. What could he do? Tell her the truth and make her even more upset? He didn't think that would be very helpful to their relationship.

"I didn't know that you played the lute," he said, pointing to her instrument.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know too much about her, really. In the last two weeks that they had traveled together, she hadn't told him much about herself and her past other than the fact that Duncan had saved her and that she had experienced loss before. Leraen had truly been a mystery to him. She was often probing him about his life and past, but he had never thought about asking her about hers.

Well, this was as good a time to start as any, wasn't it?

"My mother taught me," she said with a subtle smile. "Music was probably one of the few things that got me through my childhood and adolescence."

"That's nice. I can't say that I ever had a mother to teach me such things," Alistair said simply. He had already told her about his childhood. He felt that he had no need to elaborate.

Talk to her, Alistair, the small voice said again. He mentally sighed. And say what? He said back to it. He was beginning to feel awkward around Leraen; he just couldn't find what to say to her."Where did you grow up?" he found himself blurting out before the silence could last any longer.

For a moment, Leraen closed her eyes and frowned again, but it passed quickly. She soon opened her eyes and turned back to Alistair to answer."I am the daughter of the Teyrn Cousland of Highever," she said. "I didn't enjoy my pleasurable life as a noble very much, though."

He did his best to keep from gasping or showing surprise from discovering her true heritage. He didn't know that she was a noble! No wonder she carried herself in the way that she did. But what was she doing with the Grey Wardens? Most nobles were too interested in their position of power and wealth to leave it all behind to join their order.

He composed himself and found something to say to respond to her answer.

"You don't seem like a person who would," Alistair said with a chuckle."I can imagine that the daughter of a noble wouldn't have many chances to hack at darkspawn, would she?"

"Not exactly, no." Now it was Leraen that lightly giggled. Alistair was glad to see her mood lighten. "My father was too protective of me to let me come along with him on the expeditions that he went on to kill the monsters, even though he often bragged that I was more qualified for the job than half of the soldiers that went with him on his trips." The memories that the question brought put a smile to Leraen's face. "I did my best to be the patient lady who always stayed home to wait for the soldiers in our house to come back, for my Father's and my brother, Fergus's sake. Oh, how I would often long to go out with them on those trips to slay the darkspawn!"

Alistair smiled. Now, that did sound like her. "What happened to your family? I haven't heard you talk about them much, and I know that they couldn't have just disappeared into thin air. Or, at least, I hope not." He winked at Leraen, but immediately regretted the question that he asked. Her amused expression suddenly grew grim, and the Templar then realized that that may have been the reason why she was out here by herself, playing the instrument that her mother taught her how to play. Something must have happened to her family.

"They're dead, Alistair," she spat out without any hesitation. How could she talk of such a sore matter so easily? "The Arl Howe of Denerim, who we thought was a good friend of ours, double-crossed us and attacked our castle as we slept. I am the only one who was able to get away alive, thanks to Duncan, other than Fergus who had left for the Wilds."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Leraen."

Here Alistair was, and the only person he had lost recently who he was close to was Duncan. Leraen had lost everyone around her that she had known and loved, as well as the man who had saved her. He suddenly felt guilty for the sulking that he had done over the past few days, and the fact that he had not shown much regard to what his comrade may be feeling about the events that had occurred around her. How could he be so unobservant? More tears began to descend down her cheeks. He hesitated, but then gently put an arm around her shoulders when she didn't back away. Her shoulders now trembled with her sobs.

"I'm sorry Alistair, I must be making you feel terribly uncomfortable." She gently wiped away her tears. "I just miss them all so terribly."

"Of course you do, Leraen. And you have every right to. What Howe did was a horrible thing."

The other Warden nodded. "It was."

They sat there in silence for a minute. Nothing was needed to be said between the two. Alistair sat there and let her cry. Perhaps all she needed time. What was that which people said? "Time heals all wounds?"

"Can you play me something?" Alistair asked when she began to calm down. Perhaps her music would take her mind off of the sore memories, he thought.

Leraen's face brightened up with a small smile as she nodded. She gracefully curved her fingers around the neck of her lute with one hand and began to brush her fingers across the strings with the other.

A melancholy poem in a minor key arose from her lute as she began to play. But what came next surprised Alistair the most. As Leraen opened her mouth a beautiful voice sounded an old hymn which sang of times of strife and sorrow. But it also spoke of a beacon of light in the darkness: hope. That one thing which nothing could smother or blow out, even in the darkest of times, or so the song said. She sang with such emotion and such sorrow, but yet she promised a future beyond the hard times. The notes that she both played and sung danced in perfect harmony without a wrong or out-of-tune note.

The song ended as seamlessly as it began, and Alistair couldn't help but gape in the music's beauty. Out of all of his years at the chantry, he couldn't even think of a hymn that was as lovely or touching as the one that she just played.

"Did you like it?" Leraen giggled at Alistair's silly expression of awe as she laid her lute to the side.

"It was very lovely."

"Thank you very much. It is a beautiful song, isn't it?" The Warden slid the lute's strap around her shoulders. "Well, I believe it is my turn to make breakfast this morning," Leraen said as she gazed at the sky which was steadily growing brighter. "I'll see you later, I suppose."

Alistair rose with her and helped her pull the blanket off of the ground. "See you later," he said with a goofy grin that he pasted onto his face.

The Templar watched as Leraen walked back to her tent. The more he thought about it, the more she bore resemblance to the flower he found. He pulled out the rose that he had found at Lothering that he had been keeping with him. She was the rose among the thorns; the light that he found in the midst of darkness. She was so merciful, which she and Leliana demonstrated when she saved Sten from his fate. He also found himself very attracted to Leraen. They were bound for Redcliffe today, and he had begun to absolutely dread the conversation about his own heritage that he would have to have with Leraen in a few days. How would he ever tell her who he really was descended from and that he may not be a nobody after all?

But even after all this thinking, one problem remained, he realized, after Sten and Leliana emerged from their tents:

He, sadly, would definitely not be getting any more sleep.

Have any comments or criticisms? Liked or didn't like the story? Then please let me know! I appreciate reviews very much (but no flames, please). :)

Thanks so much for reading!