"It's true! I really was a Grey Warden, once. They even wanted to put me on the throne because of my Theirin blood, but that all ended –" the disheveled dusty blond headed man stopped talking as he realized his friend's eyes were riveted to the door, the tavern having grown deathly quiet.
Slowly he turned to see what had caught the interest of the patrons. His cup crashed to the floor as his body went numb. "Ty—" he started to say before the red haired beauty brushed her hair back behind her ears, revealing them to be human. But still he stared. As did the other "gentlemen" in the bar.
Her eyes roamed the room, purposely ignoring the stares. It was evident she was used to this type of attention and counted it for naught. Seeing a seat open, she made her way to the bar and settled in next to Alistair.
"I think you dropped something," she said, eyeing the broken mug on the floor just as a serving girl came rushing up to clean up the mess.
"Forgive me," he replied, willing his mouth to work. "You—you just reminded me of someone I once knew."
Lily laughed, a rich throaty laugh that warmed the soul. "Let me guess, Tygra, Warden Commander of the Wardens in Ferelden, right?"
Alistair had the grace to blush. "I take it you've heard that line before."
"Yes, though not in these parts."
"No, I imagine not," he replied, nodding his thanks to the barmaid as she set another mug in front of him. "Not too many up here know much of Ferelden."
"I'll have what he's having," Lily said to the barmaid before she took her leave. "But you do?" she said, turning her attention back to him.
"More than I ever wanted to," he said, taking a swig.
Lily studied this man, with what appeared to be the weight of the world on his shoulders. His face seemed somehow familiar, but she couldn't place it. His features were haggard, a result of too much alcohol, she was sure, judging by the speed in which he downed his tankard. But his eyes, his eyes were so telling, as if he carried his soul in their brown depths.
"You know, I met her once," she said, taking a sip of the mead the serving girl had just delivered.
"Who?" he asked.
"Tygra."
He winced at the name, unconsciously. "So did I."
She waited for him to continue but he only took another long pull on his drink and went back to staring into his cup.
"I was in Lothering when the Darkspawn invasion began. Loghain's men had been asking all over town about her and another Grey War—"she froze, staring at him, unable to believe her eyes. "You! You were with her, weren't you?"
Alistair nodded and took another drink. "Yes," he said, wiping his mouth off.
Lily wracked her brain trying to remember what had happened to the handsome young Warden. Her family had fled north at the onset of the Blight and news from home was sparse and unreliable. But she thought she remembered something about a Grey Warden prince who'd fled Ferelden just before Denerim was attacked.
"What brings you here?" she asked, figuring that was more tactful than asking him why he ran away.
"Guilt," he replied, standing up. He finished off his drink, dropped a few coins on the table and shrugged on his coat. "No matter how far I go, it still finds me." Turning, he walked out the door.