Alistair hadn't known what to make of the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan had returned with. She was an elf from Denerim, and Alistair doubted she'd ever seen a proper battle, let alone darkspawn. Still, there must have been something promising about her. Duncan did recruit her, after all, and if there was one thing Alistair would always value, it was Duncan's opinion.
He had watched with interest as she assembled herself as leader when they entered the Kocari Wilds. The others, Daveth and Ser Jory, were quick to defer to her. Daveth watched her with a lecherous grin on his face. Jory just seemed too afraid to take initiative. And when they met the woman in the Wilds, the raven-haired beauty with the yellow-gold eyes, the elf had maneuvered them out of a potentially bad situation.
It was no surprise to Alistair that she would be the only recruit left standing at the Joining, and despite his protests, he was actually looking forward to lighting the Beacon with her. Even when it was clear that the Tower of Ishal was overrun with darkspawn, and the hint of terror painted on her pretty face, she stood strong and together they fought their way to the top. The Beacon was lit, and she flashed him a smile. Radiant.
And then the world went black.
**
They arrived in Lothering. Grief had taken over Alistair, and he had barely spoken a word since Ostagar. Duncan was dead. The Grey Wardens were dead. Only two Wardens remained in Ferelden, and the Blight loomed on the horizon. The witch's daughter had been forced upon them, and she offered no condolences. Her mission, it seemed, was to break Alistair down even further than he already was.
The elf surprised him then.
"Leave him alone, Morrigan," she had hissed, before turning her gaze on him. "You have been very quiet, Alistair."
Her concern moved him, and encouraged him. They would find their allies using the treaties. They would not lose hope. She had pulled him aside while Morrigan haggled with a merchant.
"Do you want to talk about Duncan?" she asked.
"You don't have to do that," he replied. "I know you didn't know him as well as I did."
"I… just thought you might want to talk," she pressed, her voice low and gentle.
And he did. And Maker be damned if it hadn't made him feel better. It was then that he saw the rose, the only color on an otherwise dead bush. It was a survivor. Like her. He picked it silently, and carefully tucked it into his bag wrapping it in cloth.
He looked at her then, down on her knees trying to calm a little boy who had been separated from his mother. Alistair's heart fluttered. A smile played on his mouth. She was something special, and he felt lucky to have survived with someone like her.
**
A few months had passed since Ostagar. The grief was not as heavy as it had been, and Alistair thanked her for that. He had no doubt that he would have crumbled long ago if not for his fellow Warden. They were camped for the night, on the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest, seeking out the aid of the Dalish elves.
Alistair had unwrapped the rose, as he had every night since Lothering. Months had passed, and still the rose had not wilted. It was as vibrant as ever, and it gave him hope. He had looked at her then, and a smile played on his lips. She saw him, a quizzical look on her face, and came to him.
"Here, look at this," he said, handing her the rose. "Do you know what this is?"
"Is this a trick question?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Alistair noticed the subtle twitch of her ears.
"Yes, absolutely. I'm trying to trick you. Is it working? Aw, I just about had you, didn't I?" Alistair chuckled.
"You've been thumbing that flower for awhile, now," she replied. Her face had softened into a small smile.
"I picked it in Lothering," Alistair said. "I remember thinking, 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So, I've had it ever since."
"And what do you intend to do with it?" she asked softly.
"I thought I might give it to you, actually… In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you," Alistair felt a blush creeping to his face.
"Thank you, Alistair. That's a lovely thought," she said, almost whispering.
"I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking, here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining, not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy."
She was blushing now, eyes peering shyly at him beneath heavy eyelids.
"I thought maybe I could say something," Alistair continued. "Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this… darkness."
"I feel the same way about you."
Alistair exhaled deeply, his heart threatened to pound straight out of his chest.
"I'm glad you like it. Now, if we could move right on past this awkward embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."
"Sounds good," she crooned, a devious look in her eyes. "Off with the armor, then."
"Bluff called!" Alistair chuckled nervously. "Damn! She saw right through me."
"You're so cute when you're bashful," she said, touching his arm playfully.
"I'll be… uh, standing over there. Until the blushing stops. Just to be… safe. Heh, you know how it is."
Alistair turned awkwardly and found himself hiding in his tent.
Smooth, Alistair. Real smooth.
He sat there for what felt like ages, silently reprimanding himself for not being better at the whole romance thing. Suddenly, he realized something.
She likes the rose. She likes me.
Alistair found himself grinning from ear to ear. He stood up, and ventured back out to the camp. He was ready to face the world, and he was ready to do it with her by his side.