Alistair walked down the corridors, his feet thumping heavily on the stone ground. He had finished being harassed by Teagan and Eamon.

"You're thirty years old, Alistair!" Teagan exclaimed.

"It's time that you found a wife for Maker's sake!" Eamon growled.

Alistair's leather boots thudded on the hard ground as he crossed to the gates opening to the market square of Denerim. Women, children and workers greeted him happily as he strolled through. This was the very few places he could calm down – to escape everything. It reminded him of the days where he was out to save Ferelden with Wren Tabris, the elf that changed him for better or worse.
Leaning up against a cool, stone wall he watched his people do their daily shopping; a small girl who was looking at a bread stall caught his eye. She wore a powder blue dress with laced up boots; her waist length hair danced between a light brown, and a glowing gold. Her ringlets were tucked behind her pointed ear. This young elf reminded Alistair of Wren; a strange beauty that didn't belong in an Alienage...

"Thief!" the stall owner screeched at the girl.

"No, no – I'm not! I'm not!" she cried. Alistair ran over to the commotion before any guards could.

"What's going on here?" he asked. The stall owner froze as she stared up at her king in horror.

"Y-your Majesty," she stuttered; the elf girl looked up at him curiously. She showed Alistair a small, silk bag that held many sovereigns.

"She thought I stole this," the girl explained in an annoyed voice, "But it's mine and I got it from my mother."
The old woman scoffed and rolled her eyes at the story. Alistair frowned at the woman.

"You don't believe her?" he questioned. She shuffled her feet and nodded.

"The elves here don't have money like that, so I-"

"Accused a child of pick pocketing, when she's clearly not from Ferelden," he finished her sentence indicating at the young elf's fine clothes. The stall owner went bright red.

"Now, would you gladly give this young elf what she intended to buy and apologize?"
After a few minutes of mumbling and handing over some loaves of bread, the elf girl turned to Alistair.

"Thank you, your – er – Majesty," she smiled; she had brilliant white teeth. Her eyes were what hit him the most. They were so familiar…

"Hope!"
The girl spun around and ran to a woman. Alistair's heart stopped when he saw her.