New Rule For Ferelden

by Oblivion-and-wonderland

Tess Cousland builds Alistair up as the King Ferelden needs, while he breaks down her self-harming past and molds her into the Hero of Ferelden. Trigger Warnings: PTSD; Angst, Depression; Addiction; NSFW. ***NOTE*** I will no longer be updating here. For the full story: /works/4997605?view full work true

4. The Best Last Day

"Alistair," a familiar voice said as something jolted his foot. Alistair cracked open one eye. It was Duncan, and the sky past the overlook was grayish-blue. A hint of gold blared off in the distance. "Come up, boy." Duncan grabbed his arms and hoisted Alistair to his feet.

Alistair yawned and braced the column for support. He groaned as he forced his eyes to adjust to the early morning light. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. You wanted me to see the damage she did? We should get to it before the day requires duties."

Alistair rubbed his eyes, then looked down at Tesslyn. She was curled up around her dog like a half-circle. The mabari looked up at Alistair and cocked his head. "Stay, boy," he muttered sleepily to the dog. "Don't wake her. I'll be back soon." This seemed to satisfy the hound, for he returned his head to his paws.

Alistair followed Duncan, still half in a daze, back to their proper camp area. They armed themselves, and Alistair swallowed half a skin of mead to hurry along his waking.

"So after spending all night with her what do you think of Tesslyn now?" Duncan asked as the gates closed behind them.

The land around them was still, save for a few birds twittering from tree to tree. It felt too quiet, and far too early for someone to ask if he had had a girl. "I didn't…have her," Alistair said defensively.

"I know, Alistair. I saw you, for a time. I just wonder what your opinion is now after you've convinced her you're hers?"

"What? I didn't – I didn't say I was hers. Did I? Was I drunker than I thought?" He honestly wondered.

Duncan softly laughed. "You did tell you would help her make her life meaningful."

"I was talking about as a Grey Warden. I – you were that close? You were spying on us?" he laughed.

"I was concerned, that's all. I wanted to be nearby just in case she tried to jump," he said. "On that note, well done, Alistair."

He glanced at the old man again.

"You did a mighty thing with her. You faced your brother, even, to help her."

"And then I helped drink his rainbow-flavored brandy," Alistair said. "He actually told me to bring her to his tent. Can you believe that? He's a slob. A slob who likes flower drinks."

Duncan laughed. "She doesn't think too much of him, either. She called him a fool when he met us at the gates. As I recall, she said she doesn't trust a fool who's proud his armor reflects the sun."

Alistair grinned. "She can be quite amusing. Actually, even when she was cold, she was funny. You were right. I just needed patience." They came upon the wolves Alistair and the recruits encountered the eve prior. Alistair pointed east toward the time-worn tower. "She did these wolves, but the scary, impressive Darkspawn kills are over there." He and Duncan walked down the hill and turned toward the rising sun. "I think I'm good for her. And likewise. I think I can trust her. She doesn't seem to give two figs about me other than my sitting with her last night…which may prove helpful if she ever finds out about me. She seems to need a friend."

"A friend who trusts you in her darkest hour can mean a potent bond, Alistair. I considered sending her off to Stroud in the Free Marches after the battle, but seeing how you handled her last night, she will remain your charge."

"I appreciate that. She is sort of growing on me, I guess. There's something…something…about her. I don't know what. I think she's hiding a lot more stuff. I'm pretty sure there's more to her than the assassin thing. But there is something she has that most people here don't. Aside from really strong emotions. I'm not sure anyone can top her on that, actually. She is intense. I literally felt her hope when she changed her mind. It was nice to know I can do some good in this world. Good to know I don't annoy the living daylights out of everyone I meet."

"As long as you hold the wedding before my Calling, I'll remain supportive."

Alistair laughed while Duncan smirked. "Right! Every man wants to marry a ruthless assassin. Wait, Daveth did, actually. Daveth proposed to her." This made Duncan laugh. "I wonder what Cailan would think if I married her?"Alistair grinned in spite.

"No matter how much pleasure it will give you to hold something out of your brother's reach, marrying an assassin out of spite isn't something I advise," chuckled his senior. Despite such talk, Alistair was joking. He hoped Duncan was joking, too.

A strong whiff of early decay caught them as the breeze changed. "Ugh. We are definitely close." Alistair didn't need to see bodies to be confident. Darkspawn rot smelled different than untainted rot. It had none of the rancid-sweet scents that healthy flesh had, as unappetizing as it sounded in his head. It didn't take as long to climb up the hill as Alistair remembered. "Oh, and look. Still untouched. Not even maggots like them. You don't suppose that's an insult to Darkspawn, do you?"

Duncan looked around without speaking.

"See?" Alistair said after he turned on halfway over with his boot. "She stuck it twice -" he demonstrated in the air what Tesslyn had done, "like she'd carved a hundred that way already."

"Did she do this?" Duncan stood over the one cut in two.

"Of course. She nearly got Daveth, too. He had to jump clear back. And look! This one hit her in the face. She was like a hurricane on it, then she shoved her dagger in its mouth and kicked it through. This one started her massacre, actually." He looked around and spotted something far too clever to belong to Darkspawn. "Her bow!" He picked up the clever puzzle-bow, wondering if she even knew she had forgotten it. So much had happened so quickly yesterday. "I don't know anyone who can kill like she does."

"It is curious, isn't it?" Duncan said. "And effective. Let's hope the Darkspawn get the message."

"Yes! I've got an irritated depressed assassin at my call! Beware, Messere Archdemon!" Alistair gave a pretense evil laugh, and Duncan's mouth stretched.

"Whatever your brother gave you obviously wasn't strong enough."

Alistair grinned. "It wasn't bad, really," he admitted. "I let her have most of it. She needed the break from her thoughts." He was unsure about the look Duncan gave him, though.

"I'm not by any means trying to discourage you, Alistair," he told the lad. "But don't rush yourself with her. Take your time with this."

"I…what are you talking about? Are you still on about marriage, Duncan?"

"I truly hope marriage isn't the first thing to come to your mind already when you think of her." He started to leave, and Alistair followed.

"It's not. I'm…I admit I'm a bit infatuated, sure, but mostly with her skills. I have never even heard of a woman like her before. But I honestly hadn't considered…romance yet." Was he really having this talk? With the closest thing he'd ever had to a father?

"She is a woman, Alistair. Women are pure emotion -"

"I do agree with that," he interrupted with a nod.

Duncan continued, "- and if you keep coming to the rescue when she's compromised, talking to her as you have been, she will fall in love with you. I'd rather take my final leave knowing you won't do anything rash as soon as I'm gone." He paused and turned to Alistair. "The Chantry did teach you where babies come from, I hope?"

"Duncan!" he laughed, embarrassed.

"Alistair."

"Yes. Yes, they did. Actually, I learned that shortly after I started my Templar studies. They tried to scare us all into never touching the mages. But considering how many babies are not-so-secretly born in the Circle, you can tell how well that worked."

"And just where do babies come from, Alistair?" he tested.

Alistair sighed and rolled his eyes. "When a Mommy Grey Warden and a Daddy Grey Warden decide they'll love each other until the next Blight, a giant griffon shimmering with the blessings of the Maker descends from the heavens, carrying a new baby Grey Warden swaddled in robes stitched of victory, vigilance, and sacrifice," he entertained Duncan.

Duncan paused. "I sincerely hope you don't believe that but I admit it's very clever and I will consider adding it to the Order's archives."

Alistair laughed. "Duncan, are we really having this conversation?"

"Just a precaution, Alistair. You're both fresh enough into the order, you may soon sprout little ones if you move too fast." They walked down the hill where Tesslyn had used Alistair and the men as bait. "Do not take off your clothes for her, Alistair. Not for a year."

"Sweet Andraste!" he muttered with a mortified laugh. He could feel his cheeks burning.

"Somebody has to warn you, Alistair, since your father never got to."

"Apparently he never told Cailan, either. Unlike Cailan, I grew up in the Chantry. They keep everyone's small-clothes on with a lock and key, and tell you if you so much as reach down there to scratch, the Maker will strike you down with lightning. I know how babies are made. I'm not trying to make any."

"Good. I'm glad we had this talk."

Alistair choked on a laugh. "Right. Yes. Thank you." The rest of the walk back was performed in awkward silence.

Tesslyn and her hound were standing at the bonfire near the tents neither of them made it to last night. The moment she caught his gaze, Alistair felt his cheeks and ears flush in embarrassment. She looked at him, then Duncan, then Alistair again and thrust a green-tinted bottle at his chest. "Er…good morning," he told her.

"You raided the stocks already, have you?" Duncan smiled.

"No, I snuck into Cailan's tent. That's cherry rum, this is blackberry wine. You were right about him being fruity," she said, her eyes on Alistair.

Alistair huffed, bewildered and amused. "You snuck into the king's tent to steal his drink?"

"Of course not! I woke him up and asked him!…if a bit…aggressively."

"Was that smart?" Duncan looked guilty for finding humor in it all.

"My family has always been involved with Cailan's. We always had dinner in Denerim for Maric's birthday, until he died, anyway. Cailan's just a push-over. Family never gets away without sharing." She paused.

"Family?" Alistair reiterated.

"Rowan was my mother's cousin," she quickly explained, "so Cailan is my second cousin. My point is, we're family, it's alright for me to boss him around…and I did say please."

"Is he going to come after me for this?" Alistair asked.

"He can't even protect his own tent from invasion. How is he going to figure out how to go after someone?"

"Please try to keep all royal agitations to a minimum, Tesslyn?" Duncan requested.

"I promise nothing. The boy irks me." She gasped and snatched her bow from Alistair.

"Oh, yes. It was still out there. I thought you might miss it after…I don't know, the King annoys you again," Alistair joked.

"Thank you." She ran her fingers along the locked-in puzzle of wood. "I can't believe I forgot it…"

"Yesterday was a busy day," he recalled.

"Is there somewhere I can hunt?" She asked.

"There is no need. We have cooks. Some of the Wardens enjoy cooking for us all," Duncan told her.

"I do my own cooking." She paused. "I'm not trying to be rude, but I've grown used to assuming someone will try to poison me in return one day."

"I doubt any Warden here is that good with poison," Alistair guessed.

"There is now."

"I'll try not to annoy you anymore, then," he laughed a little.

"Try not to poison anyone." Duncan smirked.

"All right, yes! Let's go hunting. I know where to find some birds." Alistair agreed enthusiastically.

"Alistair -" Duncan began.

"Could you say no to a woman who chops Darkspawn in half?" He couldn't hide his amusement.

"Very well," Duncan sighed. "Don't let Alistair get lost, and don't take too long. We go to battle tonight."

Both of them watched Duncan walk out of earshot before looking at each other again. "How are you feeling?" Alistair asked her.

"How are you feeling? You look like a cooked crab."

He laughed, a little shy again. "It's nothing. He was teasing me, is all." He ducked his head in another laugh. "Maker! Am I that red? Ah," he sighed. He rubbed his face, then dared to meet her eyes.

"It makes your freckles and your hair stand out more. Sort of makes your eyes look like hot coals, too."

"So it's obvious I'm a flaming mess? Lovely." He chuckled though. Alistair opened the bottle and took a drink, excessive strength and sweetness pinching his face. "What about you?"

"I'm…different."

"Different?" he echoed.

Clear green eyes darted. "Not…not any less hurt, but…I'm not on the edge, anymore." She finally met his gaze as if she, too, had to dare herself.

He knew right then talking her off the ledge last night would keep them joined for quite a while. Inside, he sighed. Duncan pretty much said the same thing out in the Wilds a bit ago, hadn't he? Something about last night bonding them. Alistair supposed this was his team, then; just him and her.

"Last night you weren't hungry. How hungry are you now?" He changed the subject.

"I am famished! I'm so hungry I can't see straight! Are all of you hungry?" she didn't miss a beat.

He laughed. "Absolutely! We're all starving! I'm afraid I'm not too good with a bow, I prefer to smash things with my shield. But I can show you where to hunt. I'll even help you clean it."

"That sounds perfect." She winced a little.

She told her mabari to stay, then she allowed Alistair to lead her to the bridge. But they almost walked right into Teyrn Loghain and King Cailan. Tesslyn immediately frowned at Loghain.

"Why is he here?" she demanded of Cailan, pointing at the Teyrn.

"He's my general," Cailan informed her, looking quizzed.

"Mind how you speak to your King, girl," Loghain ordered her.

Alistair did not like Loghain's reaction to Tesslyn. Pupils around silvery blue eyes widened at Tesslyn. She riled something within the Teyrn.

"He was my cousin before he ever became king, Ser Career Underling. Why are you here? Worried the clumsy king will slip up, step on his shadow?" She snarled at Loghain. "Or are you here for me? It's been almost eight years, Loghain. Does your bed miss me? Or have you gotten a new bed?"

Alistair and Cailan shared a glance of wide-eyed intrigue.

"You two, er, have some catching up to do, I take it?" Cailan asked.

"She is an assassin, Your Majesty. It's her job to employ deceit," Loghain spoke cool and calm, eyes narrowed in the disguise of suspicion. Alistair spent his life reading body language and eyes; trying to survive childhood. He recognized the signs of Loghain's adrenaline spiking, pupils widening and a twitch of his eyes. But by all other appearances, Loghain was a general trying to protect his king. The man was clever. Alistair did not care for for the Teyrn so much anymore.

"You know all about my employ, don't you?" Tesslyn never blinked as she stared back.

"How do you know she's an assassin unless you've hired her? Isn't that sort of job need-to-know?" Alistair challenged.

"Must we all argue on the eve of battle?" Cailan asked the three of them.

"It's not 'eve', Cailan, it's the bloody morning!" Tesslyn snapped, clearly thinking herself better than him. "If you don't want conflict, maybe you shouldn't entrust your troops to a self-ambitious pig! Did he ever tell you why Anora was suddenly the only available noble when your father died? Especially when I was a better physical match for a king!" She gave a quick gesture to her own face and body. "Do not trust him, Cailan! He will betray you just as he betrayed Maric! And me!"

"What are you -"

She cut Cailan off with by slapping his face.

"Hey!" the King cried out.

"That is for willful ignorance! Your father would be ashamed!" In a blink, she turned to Loghain and punched him square in the face. "And if I even glimpse of you again, I will cut off your head and you can suck your own wanker for once!" She pushed past the king and his general before either had time to react. Alistair hurried after her to evade punishment.

"Jory was right. You do have the mouth of a pirate. Did that really happen?" he asked.

"Loghain is a tart."

"No, I mean – a tiny woman just slapped the King and punched his general, and she was allowed to just...walk away!" He laughed, partly in humor, partly in amazement, and in part fear of what might happen to him for allowing it. She looked at him sheepishly, but the corner of her mouth stretched. "I wish I had a painting of that!" He glanced back; Cailan and Loghain were walking away. It was a miracle no guards came after the two Wardens. "I'm not going to ask about the bed thing, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry. He's always rubbed me the wrong way, even though he commands his army well. But what did you mean about Anora was the only one available?"

She closed her eyes as she craned her neck a bit, her jaw just as tense.

"If it's that bad to recall -"

"No, it's…" she sighed. "Loghain had me get rid of all the other girls. One of them, I shared a birthday with. We had matching dresses every holiday," she said with a grimace.

"Why? Why would you do it?"

"I was fourteen. I wasn't exactly smart. He promised me I wouldn't have to marry Cailan. Cailan is just...I can't get over his...everything. His lack of appreciation for literature, his inability to think when a pair of breasts enters his line of sight. I'm sure he stared at my ass just now; he does that."

He laughed. "The one noble pirate in all Fereldan. You're how old?"

"Twenty-three."

"Twenty-three and not married, with a gem of a mouth like that?" He teased. Then he remembered their talk last night. "Oh, wait. Was that Darren – no, Dairren. Was he your husband?" He sighed, disappointed with himself. "I'm sorry. I ruined the moment."

She hesitated, a cock of her head tense and choppy. "N-no. Dairren wasn't my husband…"

"I'm so sorry," he gushed. "What are you hungry for?" he changed the subject.

"Griffon. But apparently our ancient Grey Warden ancestors ate all those."

He giggled. "What do you suppose those taste like?"

"Like a really muscular turkey who can run really, really fast and also roar. Like a turkey-lion. A turkey-cat…?"

He grinned. "A tat? Or a cakey." She let slip a giggle, but clamped a hand over her mouth. Alistair laughed.

"Stop it!" she scolded. "Ladies aren't supposed to giggle at ridiculousness!"

"Maybe," he teased, "but Grey Wardens can. I giggle. Your ridiculousness makes me giggle, in fact." She shot him a sideways glare, and his grin stretched with another giggle.

"They're giant turkey-cats, yes?" she verified after a pause. "So it'd be a 'girkat.'" she pronounced itjerk it.

He laughed again. "Giturts?"

She failed to hide her smile. "Turts," she echoed. Both of them a mess of giggles, Alistair glanced back to make sure no one spied his girlish sounds.

"What do you suppose you and I could end this Blight with our manly giggles?" He joked.

"This Archdemon doesn't stand a change against you." She stopped walking and lost her smile.

"What's wrong?" He searched her face, stopping his feet to wait for her.

She met his eyes. "I just…thank you."

Alistair knew what she meant. Laughter, being carefree, companionship despite the odds. He watched her for a moment. "You're welcome. I'm glad to have you."

She nodded unevenly. "I'm getting delirious." She walked again. "I just used the T-word."

He laughed. "How dreadful! Shame on me for taking advantage of a Lady in dire hunger!" he played.

"If you don't watch it, I'll stab you." She tried not to smile.

"In the back, right? Isn't that how assassins do it?"

"You mean, do we do it from behind? No, not touching that with you yet."

"Oh-ho-ho!" He was a little embarrassed she'd turned his flirt around on him.

"I won't even bother sneaking up on you. I'll do it while you're drinking or something."

"Ah! Good old poison?" His grin stretced.

"No! That's a pathetic death for the man who slays Archdemons with giggles!"

"I quite agree!" he giggled again.

She looked up at him as he led her farther out of the compound. "I don't know if this means much to you, but I like you better than Cailan."

Could she know?

No, she couldn't. No one knew, and she was way too young to remember, right?

"Considering you have no fear of slapping him while he's the king, I think I appreciate that." Alistair stopped to scope the landscape and the sun. He pointed to a patch of fog still hovering by the yellow apple trees at the edge of the forest. "Turkeys should still be out. No, wait." He looked down at her. "Turts."

She pursed her lips in an attempt not to smile and walked swiftly past him. He chuckled and caught up to her. When she halted again, he turned full about to see her watching the sunrise.

"Do you ever have moments like this?" she asked.

"Like what?"

"Death and fire and broken hearts, little bodies. Chaos. What seems like proof that the Maker indeed left. And then there are places like this – green, flowers, songs in the wind…laughter. The sun giving life to everything…making it seem like maybe this is where the Maker lives? He never left, he's just…here." She stood there in the sunrise, reflecting the orange glow like a living statue of gold.

"I've never quite thought of it that way," he admitted.

"I wish I wasn't born a noble," she said. "I'd much rather spend my life as a bird, or even a tree. No drama, no lies, no worries."

"You might not appreciate that view if you'd always been a bird, though, or a tree." He stood next to her. "It is beautiful though, isn't it?"

"It's hard to believe the Taint has killed most of this mere paces away."

"For what it's worth, I think you'd make a lovely tree." He tried to cheer her up again. She looked up at him in doubt. "Can you sing well enough to be a bird? I rather see you bashing people with your huge tree claws." She rolled her eyes and walked on, and he followed her with a laugh. "Stomping them, too. That would be a sight. Don't you agree?"

"And what? You'll be the fluffy little bunny that burrows under my roots?" she suggested.

"With an extra fluffy tail, mind you," he joked. She settled for a smirk. Alistair nudged her with his elbow. "I like it when you smile. You really should do it more often," he requested.

"I think I used to."

"You think?"

"My brother can make me laugh."

"Fergus, right? I met him, before he headed out. He seems like a good man. Oh! Look!" He stopped her and pointed. "Turkeys!" he whispered. A pack silhouetted between fog and sunlight a few trees in.

She sighed. "The Maker must hear my stomach!"

"That's a lot of turkeys to answer with. Maybe he does live here? Maybe we should be whispering, then. And I don't think it's safe to ask for any more griffons when He gives you a dozen turkeys instead of only one. If we're not careful, we'll be responsible for a sudden griffon infestation. I don't think we have a remedy for that these days," he whispered enthusiastically. She laughed with no noise and shaking shoulders, and he giggled with her.

He followed her to a shaded, crooked niche in a cluster of trees. She dug in one of her belt sacks and pulled out two sticks. "How hungry are the three of you?"

He crouched at her side with a grin. "The three of us are famished!" he whispered back. She flipped the ends of the two sticks together so they made a single long one, and it snapped into place. She pulled on the sharp end and a slim stick came out, revealing feathers on the opposite end. It was arrow. "Do you make everything?" he asked, taking it without asking like an over-curious child. He turned it in his hands. More like a dart, very sharp at the tip. The feathers were narrow and black, and they shimmered with deep purple and green in even faint light.

"Yes, I do make everything. You have successfully discovered my true identity. I am the Maker," she breathed.

He grinned at the first thing that came to his mind. "So you have a Bride? I thought you were a little too interested in that sneaky Morrigan witch. Does she look like Andraste?" he teased. He absolutely loved her banter. He'd wished she'd been like this yesterday.

She snatched her arrow back with a glare that didn't conceal her amusement. "If ever I had any doubt you were really a man, this moment completely diminished it."

"You were awfully interested in her. And also nice to her."

"Are you asking to watch me kiss a woman sometime?" She readied the arrow but didn't challenge the string.

"Oh, boy!" he laughed softly. "Let's not – all right. I grew up in the Chantry, okay?"

She grinned. "I know. Chantry boys are pretty obvious."

"Are all women this evil?" He grinned, though.

"Only the ones who didn't grow up in the Chantry."

Her head twitched when she tried to aim, causing her to pass a slight wince with closed eyes. Alistair lost his smile. Something else was wrong with her. She had been twitching more often. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, clear to him she was wary of his reaction, but Alistair didn't question her yet. Maybe hunger? He wanted to think it was something simple.

She took a deep breath and aimed again. She didn't shoot though. Her eyes almost did not shift. Alistair looked over to see why she stalled. The turkeys still there, oblivious to the Wardens as far as Alistair could tell.

WIld game goose-stepping around each other reminded Alistair of Cailan and Loghain, which reminded him of Tesslyn's reaction to them both. The giggle escaped before he could muffle himself. "It's not eve, she tells him, it's the bloody morning!" he hissed. He hung his head between his knees and pressed his arm to his mouth to try to quell his giggling. Suppressing it only made his shoulders shake though.

"Oh, balls!" Tesslyn muttered. Alistair bit down on his lips and peeked at her. She was laughing too. She clamped her hand over her mouth and completely turned away from him, as if the sight of him in such a childish fit distracted her, but this only made him laugh deeper.

There they sat, two mighty Grey Wardens, both very dangerous in their own ways, both consumed by a paralyzing tuft of girlish laughter.

It took a good while for both of them to calm down. He tried breathing with his head between his knees, like he'd learned from the Templars to ease panic attacks. Tess leaned back against the tree, filling breaths occasionally interrupted by another giggle.

"And to think, I'm not even drunk," he giggled again.

"If you don't stop it, I'm going to eat you for breakfast."

He winced with a harder laugh. "Ohhh! My mind went somewhere horrible!" he groaned out another giggle, hiding his face in his arm when his collar proved too small.

"Duncan!" she gasped. "I need a new mentor! These three are starving me!"

"Just shoot the damn bird!" he laughed. He sat up with a heavy exhale, but only laughed at the sight of her flushed and spent from titters.

"Ow!" she winced, grabbing her side, still giggling. She tried to breathe again. "Damn you, Chantry boy!" she whispered.

"No matter what you say, we're not giving you up. You are our charge," he teased, surprised he could speak so clear.

"The three of you are rotten." She met his eyes. Through their grinning and waning giggles, Alistair felt his chest swell a little. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed this hard with someone, not like this anyway. This pretty thing with emeralds for eyes had a tongue as sharp as daggers, a wit to match his own and a smile that made everything around him perfect.

Maker…Duncan had been right to suspect his attachment.

Tess stared back at him as her chest fell back into a rhythmic rise and fall. Her head twitched again, along with her elbows. She closed her eyes with a crease of her brow and looked ashamed. Her head turned toward the fowl, who patiently waited for her to strike.

Just like that, the fun was over. "What is that?" he asked quietly, searching her face. She shook her head. She sat up and opened her eyes.

Tess sat up and opened her eyes. "It's n-nothing." She took another deep breath and readied her clever bow and matching arrow again. Alistair watched her stare down her arrow; it flew from her with a muffled twang as her first two fingers opened behind her ear. He didn't need to follow the arrow to know it struck a turkey.

She glanced at him as she stood. "I don't want to talk about it," shame rang through her voice.

"I know you don't." He stood, and towered her by about a head. Alistair was very aware of their proximity. He could feel the limits of her breath at his collar. It tingled his skin. Dammit, Duncan was right. "But I am here anyway, for whenever you decide you do want to talk about it."

"Ser, you starting to become an evil."

"But a cute evil," he flirted, nodding.

"Maker, help me!" she breathed, stepping over exposed roots to get away from him. He chuckled, hopping over the wooden knots tangled around him.

"I thought you said you are the Maker?" he teased.

"Sometimes I talk to myself. It's a therapeutic habit."

He laughed. "Have I told you, yet, how you're the only one keeps up with my jokes?"

"I'm the Maker, remember? I know how to respond to you."

"Right!" he giggled. "Because you made me, of course!" He grinned. "Hey! Nice shot!" he said as the stepped up to her kill. He crouched at the dead bird. Right through the neck. He glanced at her as she bent over. She gave a jerk on the arrow and a gush of blood bubbled out behind it.

"Have you ever cleaned a bird?"

"Says the Noble Lady to the Grey Warden," he played, picking up the dead fowl by a foot as he stood.

"Oh-ho-ho!" she laughed on purpose, though the smile reached her eyes. He grinned again.

"I have, actually. I don't like to let it on very often, but I happen to be quite adept at surviving outside." Part of him wanted to tell her how he'd learned to make do with what he had around him as a kid in the Redcliffe stables.

She started to speak, but apparently thought better of it and closed her mouth.

He cocked his head at her, curious. "And what were you about to say?" he prompted.

She shook her head. "Something derogatory toward Orleasians. Toward one Orleasian." This was even more peculiar. Isolde was from Orlais; she was the one who had insisted he sleep in the stables, and as the Arl's wife, she was obeyed.

"Either you know something I haven't told you yet, or you really are the Maker and you can read my mind."

"You turned my comment about starving into something a wee bit sexual, back there. I'm not sure I want to be able to read your mind."

He laughed softly, a little embarrassed again. "All right, you win this round."

She giggled. "Oh, good. Thank you."

"You're welcome," he giggled back. "But don't expect this victory to last long. I'll regain my honor soon enough, you'll see." She turned her head away in a laugh.

They cleaned the bird together, with the morning sun warming them from the side. Plucking the feathers was most time-consuming with the both of them doing this, but also fun. Every time either one of them gave a decent tug on a handful of feathers, the whole turkey slid away from the other. It turned into a game that didn't allow them to accomplish a thing except smear blood all over the grass. Their meaningless game abruptly stopped when he brushed the tip of a feather under her nose. She pushed him, toppling him backwards in a roll, and then she sneezed six times.

"I'm sorry!" he laughed, regaining his balance.

She gave a funny snort that reminded him of a cat about to sneeze, and her head shook with a clench of her eyes. "Sure you are." She did the funny cat-sneeze again, and he giggled harder.

"All right! All right! I'll stop!" he said. "I suppose it's best. This turt won't skin itself."

"You never know. There's plenty of magic near-by." She wiggled her nose again, and he couldn't help but laugh at how adorable she was when she did that.

She used her other dagger to slice down what was left of the neck, and she gave a tug to loosen the bones.

"How old were you when you discovered you like to stab things?" he asked.

She stuck her arm inside heck hole, a crooked smile on her face. "Eleven, I think. Maybe ten? I just remember begging my father to let me train with the army. I don't recall ever stabbing anything until I was twelve."

"So, your father didn't want you to become a soldier, but he thought assassin was a better career for his daughter?" he teased.

Her grin full stretched. Her arm twisted inside the bird. "He said if I absolutely had to train, then it would be close-range, for defense. Actually, my brother convinced him of that. And what is the best sort of close-range training?"

"Rogues. Assassins."

"Here, I have something for you." She pulled her hand out and closed her fist. She kept a straight face, and took his hand. "This is very delicate. I don't trust anyone else with it. Keep it safe. Please don't break it." A slimy thing dropped into his hand, and she released him.

It was the bird's heart. A heart. Alistair laughed. "Don't break your heart. Got it." He met her eyes, and held the heart up by the torn tubes. "It's a little small, isn't it?"

"I never said it was friendly, or a compassionate heart." She smirked. "It's been a little neglected."

"Oh, this is true symbolism we're talking about then," he smiled wider.

She fought a grin, a smirk pursing her mouth to the side. "If you don't want my heart, then give it back."

"No way!" he giggled.

"That's hardly fair, is it?"

"I have a better one for you." He took her arm and balanced the heart on her forearm. She giggled with squinched eyes.

"Heart on my sleeve. Hilarious."

"Yes, you should be more careful who you bear this to. At this rate, everyone will see it just sitting there."

"Learn all this in the Chantry, did you?" Her eyes sparkled above flushed cheeks.

"As a matter of fact, I'm improvising." Alistair looked at the tiny heart in his hand. "I rather enjoy teasing you." He dug his nail into the tough flesh and pressed.

"Did you just – did you just stab my heart? With your thumb?" She played shocked and offended. He grinned with a glance and her.

"Not only a job for assassins anymore," he flirted. Openly flirting now, Maker help him.

"You are just as dark and frightening as I am."

Still grinning, he said, "I have to be, to stay in step with you. I'm afraid to get ahead of you, because my back will be exposed and I like my spine where it is, thank you -"

Her smile was almost shy.

"- and every time I let you get ahead, you disappear and I can't find you for an hour." He tore the heart apart with his thumbs, curious what it looked like inside. He ripped it completely apart and let it lay in his palm. For such a small heart, the four sections were thick. The granular chambers always reminded him of tiny fish eggs. Thick blood binding flesh about to crumble; all he'd need to do is press.

Tess shifting tore his attention. Alistair realized how strange he must look playing with this fresh heart in his hand. As soon as he looked up, she scoffed, pretending he'd offended again. "You're crushing my heart. In your hand." She met his eyes. "Didn't I specifically ask you not to do that?" If not for the smile threatening the corner of her lips, she'd be a great actress.

"You asked me not to break it, actually." He smirked back. "So what does it feel like? Does it hurt?"

"The Chantry. I blame the Chantry for this sadistic side of you."

He laughed. "Does it?"

"Does what hurt? You stabbing my poor delicate heart in your hand and then smashing it like you're trying to make jelly?"

His grin stretched as far as his lips would go. "Does it hurt to know the man who crushed your heart is still holding it?"

"Ooooh!" she breathed, narrowed eyes dancing with laughter that voiced itself a moment later.

He laughed again. "My Lady, you have the best reactions I have ever had the pleasure of antagonizing."

"Er, thank you, I think," she said, her brows and eyes reflecting amusement and concern.

"Let me ask you something. You're a mighty warrior who's not afraid of blood, right?"

She looked up in confusion, glanced down at her bloody hands, then met his eyes.

"Good!" He exclaimed without waiting for her to answer. "Hold still." He leaned over and held her chin between the thumb and forefinger sharing his hand with the heart.

"What are you doing?" She frowned, darting her eyes like it would let her see.

"Just hold still." He smudged the thick blood of the heart on his other forefinger, and put his fingertip to her left cheek. He dabbed the blood to make a single circle, then re-coated his fingertip.

"Are you putting dots on my face?" she asked. Her breath was hot against his wrist.

He giggled. "Only a couple." He drew what resembled two headless stick-people, re-wetting his finger as needed. "I'm replacing your warpaint from yesterday. It will be cute."

"Listen here, Ser -"

Alistair laughed hard.

"Warpaint is not meant to be cute. Cute doesn't win wars."

"But giggling does," he teased. He swirled his finger in the bloody heart again, then finished with a tiny triangle for each "head". "There." He released her chin and sat back.

Her eyes strained to try to see it. "What is it?"

"A unicorn dancing under a rainbow," Alistair said. She glared, and he laughed loudly. "It's the Tevinter rune symbol for Spirit. Well, Lightning, actually. But when not used as a weapon source or enhancement, it can translate to Spirit. It's sort of a two-way meaning. Lighting does considerable damage, especially to mana, which is why it's considered a dual-power. It's said the spirit of a mage gives him his mana. Lighting is also debilitating and burns and leaves nasty scars. When it's used for Spirit, it represents the Lighting from the other side, from its starting path. It's determined and strong and reaches its targets with such passion that it brings out the light from within the target. Sometimes it's considered a bringer of light in dark times, though brief. It doesn't take more than a moment of light to let a person know they're about to walk off a cliff, does it?" Alistair paused, realizing he accidentally personalized the tale to Tess.

"Why did you choose this one for me?"

"I think you have a lot of Spirit. You are an unstoppable force in battle. You stand up for things that matter to you, like with that witch-lady. And you have endured so much in the short time I've known you. Yesterday, you couldn't see a friend in any of us, and now this morning, you've laughed quite a bit. You're very brave. I admire you for all these things." Alistair gently turn her face to double-check the rune.

"I couldn't stop myself from trying to jump. That wasn't me." She shoo her head.

"Of course it was. You agreed not to jump when you left the edge with me. You didn't have to agree, but you did anyway." A moment of silence passed, Tess searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Alistair wet his finger in blood again and dragged his finger down the center of her lips and chin. "Now you look ferocious."

"Hm. You wouldn't happen to have a mirror, would you?" Her hand closed over his and squished the bloody mess between their palms.

"I do, actually. I use it to make sure my hair is in order every day. You know, I am still dying inside that a noble Lady said wanker in front of the king."

Her eyes squeezed tight with a silent laugh that shook her shoulders, and he giggled with her. All of a sudden, her hand was in front of his face. Alistair closed his eyes just in time to feel the grainy, gooey heart squish to his face. It was on his eyelashes, even. He pinched his lashes between clean fingers and wiped the blood off, giggling when he met her eyes. "I'm even more handsome now, right?" he joked.

"Bloody sexy."

His laugh came from his belly. "And here I thought the only bad jokes came from me!"

"I learned from a master. My brother has a ridiculous pun for everything."

"One day, I hope to properly meet him. If he's the master and he trained you, then he must be even more ridiculous." He scooped out the rest of the innards and scooped up the gizzard, liver, and lungs. "Will your dog eat these?" he asked as he stood, holding the turkey by a leg in his other hand.

"Yes. He may try to suffocate you with his tongue in appreciation after, but yes, he will eat them."

"Thank you for the warning." He gestured with the dead turkey after she collected her daggers. "After you, my Lady." But before he followed her, he bent to pick up a feather not bloodied. As soon as he fell in step beside her, and after she sheathed her daggers, Alistair shuffled the feather tip under chin.

"Maker!" she yelped, swatting his hand away. Alistair laughed so hard he stumbled, holding his gut.

"Blood on your face, but a feather riles you! Oh, but I will remember this!" He grinned in satisfaction.

"You will not!" she managed through a laugh.

"No, of course not. Not on my life," he giggled. He looked down at her, at the bloody mess they both were. "I have to admit, I never expected blood could be so much fun."

She smiled back. A different smile than she'd given him all morning. Maybe it was on account of his surprise, but she looked carefree now. "It was fun…is fun, I guess is right."

Alistair was honestly glad to have her.

Duncan was waiting for them at the gates, looking a bit cross, even. Alistair's smile immediately disappeared. Even Tesslyn's face fell; the Mighty-She-Who-Slapped-the-King.

Duncan opened his mouth, but hesitated to observe the blood on their faces. Then, "Teyrn Loghain -" he began.

"Is lucky I didn't I didn't cut off his prick and feed it to him!" In that instant Tess roused, frowning, her pulse already quickening at her temple.

"Grey Wardens do not slap kings or generals, Tesslyn," Duncan was firm, but kind.

"Cailan has never been king to me!" she said. This wasn't a rant coming from her. This was recollection of the familiar. Alistair could tell by her eyes and the way she held herself. "The boy used to pull my hair and throw my dolls in the lake! He threw my favorite book in the fire! He would call me names and break things and tell Maric I did it! And it got worse when Loghain wanted that pinprick Anora on the throne!" She glared at Duncan. "And that son of a bitch Loghain! He used to pay me to kill people! I spent my teenage years honing my killing skills for his benefit! And then the shitbag would always -always! - add one more condition to my contracts – I bed him, or he exposes me in court, knowing it would destroy my entire family! He flushed me so I wouldn't get pregnant!" she hissed violently. "I promise you, I will kill that man if I ever see him again! He will get us all killed! Convince that dame of a king to get rid of him before all of Ostagar burns! Loghain cannot be trusted!" She yanked the turkey from Alistair and called for her dog, then marched right back the way they came.

Duncan sighed. Alistair pointed after Tesslyn. "My charge. Got it!" He ran after her before Duncan could try to talk about what Tess just said.

"Hold on!" Alistair called. He took the turkey from her as he stepped in place at her side. Her faithful mabari kept pace on the other side of her. "There's a spot down by the river," Alistair said gently. But Tess fumed, silent and rigid. Her jaw and fists clenched, nostrils flaring. Without warning, she veered left, straight for the forest. Her dog adjusted to her sudden change in navigation as if he had predicted it, or maybe used to it. "Hey – Tess!" Alistair protested.

"I need a moment!" She snapped.

Alistair stood there and watched her disappear into the trees. "All right," he told no one, "I will go cook the bird." He took five steps when a bird-rousing shriek curdled his blood and made the hair on the back of his neck stand. Alistair stood in a daze. Tess was a banshee, screeching with anger and desperation. He could hear the pain in her pitch, her frustration.

Alistair had felt like that before. Not as pained, but the desperation and frustration. Pushed around his whole life in every direction. Forced where he didn't want to be, forced to train how others wanted. Not allowed any say, ordered to endure it. He supposed being a Grey Warden was like that for Tess. Finding out Loghain was here with her after her family died, no place left to escape him.

Alistair felt stuck again, just like when he caught her on edge last night. Should he let her mourn and start the fire while he waited? Or should he go to her? And what good did going to her last night do if he ignored her now and she took to the knife?

Her screams didn't stop. He heard heavy crashing; she was throwing things. Was it safe to go to her if she was throwing things?

Then the noises stopped. He looked toward the forest where she had entered. His gut pressured him to go to her, even knotting up high in his belly the longer he stood there. Alistair took a pair of steps toward the forest, and sighed in relief of the knot untangling. He called her name when he stepped into the mess of trees, but received no response. He trekked further in, still no Tess. Had she run? She must have.

Finally, he heard noise. Sobbing. He picked up his pace, weaving around trees until he found her. Kneeling, folded up, her face in the ground. Broken branches and a small broken trees lay scattered around her as if she had turned into a whirlwind. The despair in her cry brought his attention back to her, plucking at his heart. Alistair dropped the turkey and knelt next to her. Before he could convince himself it may not be the best idea, he took her by the shoulders and brought her up in to his arms. He cradled her head at his chest and just let her cry.

Her hound sniffed at the fresh turkey. "I wouldn't eat that, pup," Alistair whispered, "it'll make you sick."

Tesslyn pulled out of his hold. "He's hungry," she choked out. Alistair looked down at her. She took deep breaths and wiped her hands under her eyes. She tried to stand up, but he stopped her. He cupped her chin and turned her head, craning his neck to look at the rune he'd painted. It wasn't that she wiped half of it away that got his attention. What caught his eye was now it looked like the symbol for Barrier. Protection. He supposed it wasn't exact, but it was damn close. No other rune came so close, he knew this.

He released her face and shoulder. She gave a sniff. Her eyes were red and swollen from her tears. She needed him. He knew that already. And the rune he'd drawn somehow changed to Protection? Was the Maker telling him he had a job to do?

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess," she said, broken and ashamed. She wiped a fist across her right eye. "Sometimes I cry when I'm angry."

"Do you want me to kill him?" the words were out of his mouth before he knew he'd been considering them. He meant Loghain, of course.

Maker! What if she said yes? Would he really execute Teyrn Loghain, general of the king's army, for her?

The quiver in her bottom lip made up his mind: Yes. Yes, he would kill the man who'd hurt her.

She shook her head. "I want to." She blinked a few times. He let her stand up this time, and he nodded.

"Right." Alistair stood. "I suppose we should cook this bird before your dog gets sick." The mabari shied away from the fresh kill with a whine, and Alistair smiled. "Here. These you can have." He scooped up the innards and held his hand out. Po gave a bark of thanks and wolfed down the flesh, licking Alistair's hand clean. "Well done, pup." He picked up the turkey with the hand Po licked.

"My father called me pup…" Tess trailed off. Alistair looked at her and held out his free hand. With stricken eyes that said she felt undeserving, she let him close his fingers around hers. "Why are you doing this?" She dripped sorrow.

"Because I want to. I enjoy your company." He watched her as he led her out of the trees. "Why do you trust a man you just met?"

"That's different. You've been wonderful. I've…been cruel and miserable."

"You have so been wonderful. I don't giggle like that for just anyone," he teased.

"If I had said yes, would you really killed him?" she meant Loghain.

"Yes. I don't like that he what he did to you makes you feel so horrible even when he's not around." He was confident he would killed Loghain if she had asked. "Regardless who he did it to, you just don't do that to a woman." He was rising to the occasion. "What he did is beyond forgiveness." Alistair took a deep breath to calm his pulse. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"When Cailan married Anora." She paused while her head gave another twitch. "No. I mean, it was at the wedding, but I didn't stay long enough to see them become husband and wife. As soon as the Grand Cleric started speaking, Loghain nodded to me, and I left. I was in the front row next to Teagan in a gigantic dress, and I stood up and stormed out. I'm sure a rumor spread through the nobles after that. Everyone expected me to marry Cailan. Storming out must have looked like I was bitter because he chose someone else."

"If he had insisted on you, would you be Queen right now?"

"Bloody void!" she scoffed in offense. He laughed. "Absolutely not! I would have slapped him in the Great Hall before all Fereldan!"

"He seemed a great deal interested in you last night."

She paused again and gave a small sigh. "I was his first kiss. It was a month after Loghain…flushed me. Cailan ambushed me in the hall on in the shadows, and he kissed me. He asked me to run away with him."

"So…he genuinely likes you? And you don't like him at all? You realize you could still become Queen."

"Do you really want to address me as Your Highness?" She glared up at him.

"No, I suppose not," he chuckled. "If he likes you so much, why marry Anora? I mean, he had a choice. He was already King when he married her."

"Have you seen them together?"

"No."

"It's kind of like…you and me, I guess." Her hand twitched in his, and she started to withdraw. He kept her with him by locking their fingers, trying to show her the little things didn't bother him.

"She's maniacally violent and likes to giggle, and he's willing to jump off cliffs and murder for her?" He flirted.

She smiled like she wasn't sure she should be, and he grinned at her. "She's nowhere near as fun as I am! The only knife she can hold is a table knife."

"Some wife indeed," he joked.

She mused. "She's knowledgeable in politics, and she knows books and the right people. Cailan makes her laugh. They are friends, I guess. That's what Cailan calls her. He's been suspicious, the last few times I saw him…He knew when I was in Orlais. I got a letter from him."

"And to get a letter from family while you're away is strange because…?" he prompted.

"Because I was posing as a servant to the Empress at the time. Her personal handmaiden, at that."

"Oh," he said, interested in this. "Do I get to hear this tale?"

"No."

"I have a feeling you're keeping all the good stories to yourself."

"And for your own benefit. You won't thank me if I told you."

"And you're so sure of that?" He untangled his fingers from hers near the edge of the river.

"Yes, because I'd also have to tell you why so you would understand why I've endured what I did."

"Well, I am not going anywhere." He hesitated. "Actually, yes I am, but I'll be right back. We need kindling." He dropped the bird and left Tess there to retrace his steps back up the hill into the woods. He gathered an armful of dead branches and twigs, then hurried back.

"I have a question," she said as soon he returned.

"Perfect! I'm not sure if I have any answers!" he joked.

"You said lightning is a symbol for Spirit because it affects a mage's mana, and magic comes from a mage's spirit?"

"Yes, I did say that. That's pretty much the gist of it."

"So, hypothetically speaking -"

Alistair glanced up, already smiling.

"- if I swallowed enough lightning, would I become a mage?"she asked.

He froze, staring. The idea was incredibly absurd and absolutely brilliant. They both looked up at the sky.

Not a cloud in sight, though. "Do you happen to know any Lightning Dances? You know, like a rain dance, but for lightning," she asked, still searching the sky.

"No. But I wish I did." Alistair gathered rocks from the side of the river's edge. "I'm not sure how it will work, but it sounds worth a try." He placed the rocks into a circle on a more level part of the ground. "I wonder if you'd have to have to drink some lyrium for that to work?"

He wasn't even looking at her and he was aware that her head give a noticeable jerk. He did see her elbows and fingers clench at her sides, from the corner of his eye. Before he could even turn his head, she immediately ticked again. She turned and began unbuckling her armor straps. Every movement was choppy and sharp, fingers fumbling like she couldn't keep a grip. She shrugged out of her vest, revealing her undershirt, followed by her sleeves. Alistair felt dirty for watching, but he was so surprised – and curious – that he couldn't stop. It wasn't until she started stripping away at her undergarments that he spoke up.

"I, er…what…are you doing?" he asked. He'd seen half-nude women before, but wounded ones, bleeding injuries. Tess was a different case. The sight of her bare back was…enticing wasn't a strong enough word. She pushed her underclothes down to her ankles, immediately followed by dropping her breechcloth. Alistair dared not move; simply the sight of her caused his groin to swell.

Sweet blood of Andraste! Just how powerful was this temptation if mere sight aroused him?

"Going for a swim." She dropped her breast band.

"You…do realize I'm right here?…Don't you?" he asked as she unclasped her necklace. Oh, Maker, she was stunning. Hips round and wide, drawing in as they closed near her waist. Plenty substance to cause dramatic shadows under her bottom. She looked plush, like she waited for caress, waited for his fingers to sink in.

"As much as I would n-" her neck twitched again "-normally love to tease a Chantry boy, I've got bigger prob-problems right now." As she stepped down to the water's edge, a twitch cringing her shoulders. He felt guilty for groping her with his eyes.

She fell into the river. Alistair jumped to his feet, but Tess surfaced with a loud gasp. He sighed and returned to the kindling, watching her swim upstream until she was out of sight. He wondered if the river's chill helped with whatever made her twitch. Even gorgeous noble women had problems, it seemed.

It was easier to concentrate on everything without her stripping in front of him, standing in naked glory. Alistair used his flint knife to start a fire, and took the turkey and her daggers down to the water. Almost as soon as he set the turkey on a spit over the fire, Duncan's voice interrupted the quiet air:

"Where is she?"

Alistair looked up to see Duncan staring at the pile of clothes and armor on the ground, frowning and wary. Alistair gestured to the river. "She's swimming."

"She's nude?" it was more of a statement, "In front of you?"

Alistair laughed in embarrassment. "And quite lovely, too." Duncan sighed. "My clothes are still on, don't worry. I think she's trying to cool off, actually. I assume you heard her fuming a bit ago?"

"I figured that was her." He sighed. "The King has orders for you both when you're ready," Duncan relayed.

"What joy," Alistair said without excitement. "I'm sure she'll be thrilled. I am also sure she'll kill Loghain if she sees him."

"She will have to show restraint, Alistair. The Wardens cannot risk being exiled during a Blight," Duncan enforced.

"I…I'll talk to her. I guarantee though, she won't be happy, Duncan. And clearly she doesn't care about status. To say she told Cailan to piss off is an understatement. And I just had to console the woman. Do we really have to see them?"

"I understand your concern, Alistair. But we all need to cooperate if we have any chance to defeat the Darkspawn."

"I will kill Loghain."

They both looked over to find Tesslyn standing there. Gloriously naked, water dripping from her breasts. She was just as full in front as she was in back, and her breasts bounced when she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her wet skin sparkled in the eager sun. She was glorious indeed.

Duncan immediately spun around and hid his eyes, and Alistair giggled. "For the love of Andraste, Tesslyn!" Duncan muttered. Alistair laughed harder, staying crouched to turn the bird in case his bulge was bigger than he thought.

"I'm serious, Duncan. He is an evil far worse than any poison I can concoct. His own daughter becoming Queen immediately after Maric declared dead wasn't suspicion enough?" she challenged.

Alistair caught the escalation in her voice. "Duncan, would you leave us? Please?" he requested. Tesslyn folded herself in front of the fire opposite Alistair, still gloriously nude.

"Gladly. Tesslyn, please find me when you're dressed." Duncan spun and rushed up the hill.

Alistair settled back down on his side of the fire. "Did you hear what he said?"

"No. Only when you said I told Cailan to piss off."

"Cailan has orders for us," he relayed.

"Joy," she said dully.

"That is exactly what I said." Alistair watched her, trying to look casual. " So, tell me. Do you enjoy being naked in front of Chantry boys? Or just naked in general?" he asked. He hoped the flames between them masked the heat he felt in his cheeks.

"My body has never been mine. You're the first man to be so kind for so long without trying to bed me," she said.

"That's horrible." He was genuinely appalled.

"That is the life of an assassin."

"And you just let men treat you that way? She-Who-Slaps-Kings? She-Who-Slices-Darkspawn-Like-Bread?" he asked.

"You don't exactly have options when your employer threaten blackmail on your family if you don't perform."

"Did you ever tell your family? Couldn't your father have done something?"

She scoffed out a laugh. "Aside from normal women considered a disgrace for premarital copulation -" Alistair felt his ears burn "- no. What could I say? Father, you know how you always wanted to marry me off to the King's son though I never liked him? Well, I let Maric's best friend steal my purity in exchange for the promise I would never have to be Queen. And Mother? You know how you were always secretly trying to marry me off to Teagan behind Father's back but he always declined? He's the sole person on this blasted world who knows what I've done since Father hired that Antivan Crow, but Teagan despises the monster I've become. Oh, and I can't give you grandchildren because sleeping with the King's best friend made him flush my lady parts till they shriveled!"

"Tess, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up," he insisted. His soul winced. Her story was horrible. That stuff really happened to people? Alistair felt like an incompetent excuse for a genlock's backside for bringing it up.

"It's not -" Her eyes closed with another crane of his neck. "It's not anything you could have stopped." She sighed into her knees. "I'm sorry. This is the first time I've had anyone take an interest in what happens to me. It's not…odd for me to go without clothes." Her jaw clenched with another wince and twitch. "It do-doesn't feel like I'm lacking."

"So, your plan is to walk naked around camp every day?" He tried to brighten the conversation.

"Maker, that's a horrible plan. Is that a challenge?" she sounded amused, though she didn't look it.

He smiled for her. "I think it is," it came out in a giggle he hadn't planned for.

The corner of her mouth stretched a little, and for a moment, she just stared. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make it feel better? Do you always do this?"

"Maybe it's not me," he suggested. "Most people can't stand me. So maybe it's you instead of me?"

"How can it be me?" she asked. "You talked me off a ledge! I could already feel the stone scraping against my bum as I let go! You just -" she gestured to where Duncan had stood moments ago. "You knew I needed him to leave….how?" she rather sounded like she was begging.

"Hm…to answer your last question, I listened. I could hear your voice escalate, and your jaw got tight."

She just stared at him. "Do you have any idea how I can stop from escalating?"

This was a good question. "Give me a moment to think about this, will you?" He stood and turned the turkey, searching his memories from his Templar training. "When I started my Templar studies, one of the first thing they taught us was about discipline. But a lot of that had to do with shield and sword control, and some lyrium -"

Again, she cringed at the neck.

"You said you pray?" he recalled. "Do you ever meditate? Just sit in silence, concentrate on the Canticles? Or just sit in prayer?"

"I sit in prayer a lot. Usually I'm bawling like a baby. But never meditating, I can't do that."

"What else do you pray for? Besides for your life to mean something important?"

She stared at the fire. Her jaw clenched again, as did her arms and hands around her knees. "For for-forgiveness…and to one day have my own ba-baby."

He watched her as he turned the turkey. "At the risk of getting slapped, I'm afraid being a Grey Warden doesn't help with the baby part. Every Warden I know of who has children had them before they became Tainted. I'm sorry."

"Loghain made that possible, not the Taint. I suppose it's for better. I think I'd make a terrible m-mother. I like to kill people too much."

"I sincerely want to giggle," he admitted. "But soldiers are parents, too. Sometimes killing is necessary. It doesn't make one a bad parent." Her hands and arms twitched without end, now, up to her shoulders and neck. It gave the impression she was shivering. "Are you cold?" he asked.

"N-no." A noise of pain slipped out with a sharp jerk, and another; she looked shamed. Her mabari cocked its head at her, then got up and ran uphill toward camp.

Just then it registered where he'd seen that ticking before. "Lyrium," he stated. Templars who had taken it for about five years would get withdrawals. Lyrium was highly addictive. While the Chantry controlled its trade to control the mages, they also used it as a leash for their Templars. It was a method of control to make sure no Templar got funny ideas about running away for some girl. Morning and evening distributions kept all the Templars crawling back for more.

Tess nodded with severe chops interrupting her fluidity. "Loghain." She tried to fight each twitch, but that only made the rest of her jerk harder. "It's w-worse when I'm angry. Runs through fas-s-ster."

"How long have you been on it?"

She closed her eyes every time her head jerked his direction. "N-nine years." Her dog came running back, clutching a bottle of blue liquid in its mouth. She crumbled over in relief at the sight of her dog. "Oh, pu-pup." Her fingers fumbled over the stopper, but when she opened it, she drank like she was desperate for water.

"He knows what you need?" he asked.

She just sat breathing in for a moment. Deep breaths, trying to fill the void every other second. Slowly but surely, her body stopped quaking. She rocked now, though he supposed that was a concentration thing. She did it last night, too, on the ledge. "Po has seen me fall hard. I've tried to wean before. It hurts. It feels like my insides are burning. makes me itch something horrible." She shook her head. "That asshole turned me into a weapon. When I'm not fighting..." she shook her heard again, staring hard into the fire. "It's like I'm iron. The more I sit still, the more I rust, and without oil I'll rust quicker. Lyrium is my oil."

Alistair had never known anyone with such a grooved life before. For being so beautiful on the outside, as beautiful as she was in their friendship, she was scarred where people shouldn't be. It amazed him she had survived such a life.

"I am particularly effective against mages." She finally looked at him. "You probably already guessed that, though. Templar stuff."

"I think you're just as effect against non-magic things, too. You didn't let the other Darkspawn live just as much as you didn't let the Darkspawn mage live."

She smiled was crooked, empty. She wasn't convinced of "He tested my resistance when he realized I couldn't go without it."

"Loghain?" He was losing more and more respect for that man.

She shook her head. "No, in Tevinter. But he was the reason I was there. With enough lyrium, you can…sort of absorb the spell and reverse it. It's…it feels like I've swallowed lightning." Their eyes met over the flames, and she tapped her cheek. "When you put that rune on my face, it made me think of that."

"Despite how I joked about it, it sounds really painful, Tess. I don't like to tell people, but they don't wait till you've taken your vows to start giving you lyrium. It's part of the training. Granted, they're small doses. But still, swallowing the weak stuff is horrible enough." He said.

"It is extremely painful and the worst thing I have ever tasted by a long shot…yet…it's also incomparable. Nothing else feels like it. They say the same thing about sex, but this tops that with an aggravation that cannot be reached except through lyrium." She paused. "Maybe someday you'll see it."

"How much lyrium do you use for that?"

"I don't ever mix it how I'm supposed to, but it should be a large handful of dust, a crushed spirit shard, and concentrator agent."

"Maker, Tess! That should kill you! Normal people bleed from their eyes at more than a pinch!" he cried out softly.

"The Taint couldn't kill me either."

"Just because we both agree you're indestructible does not mean you should keep testing that."

"That's sort of hard to avoid. Death sort of follows me around like a shadow."

"It doesn't count if you cause the death," he teased. The corners of her mouth turned.

"Yes," Tess agreed with a nod. "Some of those shadows happen to be in front of me."

"I thought so." He smiled for her.

When the turkey was ready, she dressed; Alistair turned his back to her so he wouldn't stare the whole time. He cut off the legs for himself and Tess, and gave a huge slab of breast-meat to the dog. They sat together as they ate, and for a while, they made no sound except with food. It wasn't until they were on their second helpings that either of them spoke.

"You look nothing like your brother," he said.

"My brother will be honored someone is thinking of him."

He laughed. "No! I mean, who do you take after, your mother or you father?"

She grinned between bites. "Both. Why?"

"You look nothing like Fergus. I don't remember everything about him, I can't picture you two as family."

"Really? He looks like my father, and I look like the Maker couldn't make up his mind so He just smashed my parents' faces together," she said. Alistair laughed again, choking on his food. "You're welcome."

"Underneath all that moan and groan yesterday, I knew you had a sense of humor." He ripped off another chunk of meat with his teeth. "And your eyes?"

"My mother." She watched him while they ate. "You? You have adorable freckles."

"Adorable freckles, she says." He glanced at her. "That's the first time I've heard that. I suppose my mother, but I didn't know her. She died in childbirth. I'm told she was a ginger, too."

"Do you not like your color?"

"I assume that means you like it," he tried to flirt though his mouth was half-full.

"I do. It's a nice change from all the black and brown and gray."

"One day, I will be one of those."

"Oh? You're going to paint your hair black? With what?" she joked.

He laughed. "What do you think we do with all that leftover Joining Juice?"

"Joining Juice?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust with a shudder that shirked down her back. Alistair laughed again.

"Says the woman who stood in front of me and stuck a Darkspawn just to show me his insides."

"You weren't eating," she grumbled. Yet she took another bite.

"That hasn't stopped you. You're keeping up with me, even," he teased. She shot him a sideways glare. "Hey," he said softly. He nudged her with his shoulder. "You're fun to tease."

"I suppose you're welcome again."

"I'm serious. I enjoy your company." He took another bite, chewing on one side of his mouth so he could talk. "Most people think I'm annoying."

"I don't think so."

"I know. I appreciate it. I'm glad you're the one who survived." Alistair meant every word.

When they finally made it back to camp, Duncan was busy with Cailan. Alistair acquired six bottles of mead, and until the sun was high above them, under shade trees they drank. Younger Grey Wardens teased him as they passed by, shouting things like Chantry boy finally found a girl to play with and Little Templar's all grown up. Tess told him to ignore them, especially the ones directed at her; You can do better than Alistair, sweetheart! Only one seemed to bother her; Aren't those giant feet awkward in bed? Oy Alistair! Not your wanker-toes, mate, you're supposed to use your cobbler wart! Alistair recognized him as one of the Free Marches Wardens. He grimaced, not wanting Tess to hear this stuff, especially about him.

Green eyes narrowed beside Alistair. She muttered something harsh, then yelled with a hard smirk. "You know what they say; if a man has giant feet...well, It's true!" The fallen face of the Warden glued satisfaction on Tess' face.

Now more embarrassed by Tess, Alistair hid his face in his knees, unable to stop laughing. Maker, he was glad for her. One insinuating remark from a beautiful woman shut the Brothers up.

Tess patted Alistair's back. "I wouldn't worry about that for awhile. I'm well aware of my beauty. They'll learn soon enough who hasn't left your side." Alistair peeked at her, and leaned back against the tree with a deep breath. She shrieked with laughter. "You look like a lobster!"

He laughed all over again. "This your fault! I never told you to tell him my -" but he was so embarrassed he couldn't even say it. Her mouth almost stretched off her face, her eyes scrunched in her giggles. Alitair couldn't take a proper breath without giggling.

He did a double-take as he saw familiar gold armor in the distance. Even from this far, King Cailan looked like he felt excluded. Alistair felt the King's stare as he and Tess laughed all over again. Cailan watched, nothing more, as Alistair and Tess laughed each time their eyes met. When Alistair glanced over again, Cailan was gone.

When their bottles emptied and their spontaneous giggles waned, they searched for Duncan. Duncan was busy with the King's war council, though. Alistair took Tess to the smithy to get fitted for official Grey Warden armor, instead. Alistair found the fitting bothered him. She not only had to strip to under clothes, but also get her hips, thighs, length of leg, waist, and breasts measured. Not only at her breasts, but under them and across and their length. This really bothered Alistair. He'd gone through the similar measuring, but this was different. This was Tess.

Alistair stood with his arms over his chest, frowning. "Is that necessary? Do you really have to touch her there?" he disapproved. The male smith wrapped the strip of measuring cloth around her back and under her breasts.

"Do you want her safe or not?" the smith asked, not amused.

"Yes, but is it necessary to…fondle her like that?"

"If I don't get a proper measurement, it will be loose, and then what's the point?" the smith said. Alistair met Tesslyn's eyes. He supposed he should just let the smith do his job, though it was hard not to tell him to take his hands off her. "Well, good news," the smith announced after he put his measuring tape away. "There a set of light armor already stitched that should fit you."

"Should?" Alistair echoed in doubt.

"There was a female recruit a few months back, didn't make it a week. I couldn't throw away that sort of craftsmanship. Just about the same measurements; she was a bit longer up top, but it should be fine. It's on the top in the chest back there," the smith pointed behind the dummy-stand.

"There was another woman who had my same measurements? Perish the thought! What was that Maker thinking?" Tess joked. Alistair's mouth stretched, and he walked around her to retrieve the armor.

"I'll have to shape a breastplate, but that will take a moment," the smith told them.

"I don't do heavy armor," Tess said with large eyes. "I use daggers and a bow. Heavy armor isn't suitable for that."

"It's not big, just something to cover the heart."

"Oh, right. Something that already has its own natural armor." She nodded. The smith glared at her. "I'm just saying – my squishy innards are more vulnerable!" she squeaked.

"Would you rather make the armor, then?"

"I made the one I was already wearing," she offered.

"Go try on your leathers on. I'll have the breastplate and joint pads up soon enough." The smith shooed them away. Tess redressed in the blackened leather she'd arrived in, and Alistair led her away.

"There's really not privacy to dress here," Alistair told her. "We just don't have any women in Ferelden's order. Privacy has never been an issue. But I can stand watch while you change in a dark corner."

"Is it possible to assure you I'll be fine dressing myself for a short moment?"

He tried not to smile. "No." He gave her a look. "Have you honestly seen yourself? And all these deprived Wardens?" She bit her lips and blushed.

He stood watch indeed, her mabari with him. Alistair paced, his head turned away as she switched armor behind the large trees they'd drank under.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"Tess, if you're naked again -" She cut him off with a hard giggle. Alistair turned around anyway, smiling shy himself. He gave her a look-over, trying to stay professional despite how cute she looked. Everything on the armor complimented her skin. She seemed to belong in Grey Warden armor. "How does it feel? Did it tighten? How are the straps? The colors look good on you."

"It fits better than I expected. I'm honestly not sure what to think of the Maker creating another woman with my body," she joked.

"You're absolutely right to be concerned. How dare He!" he teased. He reached for her collar, to make sure it covered her neck properly, but withdrew his hands when his eyes met her.

She stared at him with a gentleness she didn't look at anybody else with. "Thank you, Alistair."

It was little moments like this that made him want to forget everything else and just kiss her. Too many of these moments had already happened today. He needed to redirect his attention. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, actually," she admitted with a small grimace.

He bent to retrieve her other armor from the ground. "I'll go track down the cook. And I need to find Duncan. If he's still with King Cailan, it's best I go alone…"

"I agree."

He thought for a moment. "Have you met Wynne yet?"

"Wynne?" she echoed.

"She's a mage, an elderly lady, but spiritied. I'll introduce you, and then let you keep an eye on her while I hunt down the King who confiscated my mentor."

"Oh! You'll let me watch her." Her smile was also getting shyer as their time together progressed.

"That is correct. Can't have these funny mages running amok, can we?"

"No mucky mages. Got it."

He grinned, forcing himself to step back to actually start on his duties. "Is there anything you won't eat?"

"Poison."

"No one's poisoning you on my watch," he promised her.

She sighed. "Is there any blasted cheese here? And bread?"

"There had better be."

"You know, you're going to be in trouble if you don't stop talking to me with those eyes."

"Am I now?" He grinned wider. "I do believe this is what Duncan tried to warn me about earlier. Something about baby Grey Wardens."

She snorted into laughter, stumbling as she tried to leave the shadows. "What? When did he say this?"

"This morning when I found your bow." He walked next to her again. "He told me to keep my clothes on for a year."

She giggled hard. "For a year?"

He was embarrassed just thinking about his answer. "I told him I wasn't trying to make babies, but that was before you took off your clothes down at the river."

"Hours before a battle is a horrible time to be thinking about making babies."

"Hm. You're right. Not nearly enough time, is it?" he teased. She ducked her head in embarrassment, and from behind her hand she glowed pink in the face. "What?" he laughed. "I just sort of, you know, picture it being ridiculously romantic and lasting all night long. With, I don't know, rose petals and candles."

"And wine, please."

"Yes, with wine. Wait, is that more romantic than mead?"

"No! I mean right now!" she giggled through her hand.

"Oh! Right!" he giggled with her, his cheeks burning hotter. "Wine, bread and cheese. Yes, of course. Food. You started this, you know." He tossed her armor on the bedmat inside her tent. "Something about my eyes talking you out of your clothes, or something."

"Maker!" she breathed. Her face almost flamed as she dropped her hand. He laughed softly and pulled her into his chest.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he said into her hair with a giggle. "You are absolutely adorable like this. I thought I was the only one who turned bright red!"

She laughed harder into his shoulder. Then suddenly her hands gripped his bottom, fingers sunk in. His hips arched into her in surprise. Alistair fell into violent titters at her shoulder.

"You're going to be the end of me!" he rasped. He knew exactly how bright his burning face was.

"This is payback, little Templar," she teased, still giggling.

"Is that all I am to you now? A little Templar?"

"The littlest Templars are easy to tease."

"So are scary assassins." He sighed. Alistair stayed at her shoulder with his arms wound tight even after he stopped laughing. She let go of his bottom and her arms crossed behind him, snuggling into him. He hadn't realized he'd needed her hug till now, till he was in it. This was his friend, his deepest friend, his best friend already. Alistair knew that much. He tightened his arms around her and silently thanked the Maker for her.

"Am I interrupting something?" a familiar voice said. That was definitely not the Maker responding.

"Can I help you, Cailan?" Alistair straightened and took his arms from Tesslyn; hear arms were slower to retract. Alistair turned to face his brother.

"Isn't this cheerful? A little family reunion!" Cailan smiled at the both of them. Alistair couldn't tell if Cailan was being smug, or if this was normal Cailan-cheer. Tess didn't seem phased by his words.

"Seeking family affection, are you?" Tesslyn glared.

"Something like that. Duncan has a job for you, Alistair."

"Ooh!" Tesslyn said in clear mockery. "The King of Ferelden is an errand boy now."

"I only agreed because I wish to speak to you, cousin. I understand you have the rest of your armor to collect. I shall accompany you while Alistair helps the mages with some heavy lifting."

Alistair groaned. "I don't like either of these ideas. You realize she's more likely to slap you again, right?" he asked.

Cailan actually laughed. "Of that, I have no doubt. This is a struggle I've been dealing with since we were children. Isn't that right, Tesslyn?"

"I really don't like the way he says your name," Alistair told Tess. "Your Royal Whatever-ness, I'm afraid you'll have to go find your own Grey Warden. This one is mine."

Cailan grinned. "After that public groping half the camp saw a minute ago, I have no doubt of that either."

"You sound jealous, Cailan. Of him, or me?" Tess asked.

Both the men stood incredulous. Alistair suspected she knew he was Cailan's brother. "That's – no. Really, Tess?" he asked. She giggled only for Alistair.

"I agree with Alistair. Please, go attend to the mages, Alistair. I do need to talk to my cousin," Cailan told him.

Alistair sighed and looked at Tess. "I guess we'll eat after the mages use me for my body," he told her. Her eyebrows shot up in interest. Alistair couldn't help his grin; that one look made him feel attractive, desired.

"I'm thinking I'd rather go with you…and just…watch…"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you two, of all people," Cailan said.

"Right, I can only imagine it's a little strange coming from a woman you almost married and…me," Alistair shot his brother a flat stare.

"Yes, that," Cailan said, not amused.

"Don't touch her. I'm serious." Alistair then looked at Tess. "Try not to kill him. He is still the King," he whispered.

"He's not my king."

"Yes, I know." Cailan said without enthusiasm. Tess shot a demanding brow up. "It's obvious who you're loyal to, is all I'm saying. You two have been attached at the hip all day."

"You're jealous," Alistair joked. "Fine! I'm leaving!" He looked at Tess once more, and then left her to find a mage who knew what he should to do.

Cailan waited until his brother was out of earshot. "Honestly, what does he have that I don't?"

"A heart, a brain, he doesn't take my belongings and burn them – I have a whole list. Shall I go on?" Tesslyn always liked reminding him they were family long before he became King.

"You know what? Never-mind."

"What is it you want?" she sounded irritated.

Cailan took a deep breath. "Actually, may we talk in my tent, please? I'm afraid I may not be able to save face for this."

"Alistair won't like this."

"I know." He searched her eyes.

She glanced towards where Alistair had disappeared to, then she agreed. "You know, despite the fact I can't stand you, you're actually starting to worry me," she said as he closed them inside his tent.

"Sit, please." Cailan dug out a bottle of brandy and opened it. He made a face as he took a drink, and passed the bottle to her.

"Cailan…"

"I know you think I'm an idiot, especially for keeping Loghain around."

"That's a bit of an understatement."

"Please, just hear me out," he said firmly, keeping his voice gentle. "I'm just trying to say goodbye, Tesslyn. That is all."

She stared at him, otherwise frozen. Her eyes were wild with curiosity, and for the first time in their lives, concern. "Cailan?"

"Loghain insists we do this without the Orleasians. He harbors grudges long grown cold. I have…been suspicious since father...died. But he is my friend's father -"

"Friend's?" she echoed. "Is that all she is to you now?"

"Yes, Anora does happen to be my friend, in addition to my…wife," he said softly. A word that should refer to Tesslyn, not Anora. "As I was saying, he did help father win back Ferelden. I keep him around to honor my father, that is all."

"Cailan -"

"I'm fighting at Duncan's side tonight because I'd rather die with someone I trust."

"Cailan -"

"If I should die, and I fear I am, the chest you're sitting on is enchanted with blood magic. It was my father's, and it opens to his blood. My blood, and Alistair's. If I die, have Alistair open it, and get word to Celene."

"Cailan Theirin!" she hissed.

Cailan met her eyes. She frowned, worry potent and presiding over irritation. "Take care of Alistair for me. Marry him, do what you have to, just take care of him."

"What happened to the man who so confidently welcomed me to Ostagar yesterday?" she asked.

"I have to let the troops believe we can do this. But I have no doubt we will fail. We need Grey Wardens to end this, yet Loghain has turned them away." Cailan took the drink she hadn't touched and swallowed another bitter mouthful. He took another swig before giving it back to her. "Why did you bed him?"

Now she put the bottle to her lips. "It wasn't voluntary, believe me." She paused. "No, I did agree."

"Why? You had just grown of age nine years ago. You wouldn't even have me nine years ago." More bitter than harsh drink to learn the woman he'd always loved had been taken by his wife father's

"He would have blackmailed my parents, Cailan."

"You could have married me and been done with him forever. You never would have had to flee to Orlais."

"How did you even know I was there?"

"Celene is a good friend. I trust her. I've been planning to divorce Anora, and marry Celene. It was supposed to happen after we ended the Blight together. Well, her troops and mine." He grabbed the bottle and took a drink. "She has promised me to support you and Alistair."

"You have been spying on me, Cailan."

"Celene is a smart woman. Why else would a beautiful woman of royal Ferelden blood work so earnestly to earn her trust?"

"She never mentioned she told you."

"Of course not. I asked her not to. I couldn't risk sending information in writing." He took yet another drink. "Marry him, Tesslyn. He is fond of you, I see it all over his face, even how he stands and walks."

"The Landsmeet will never allow me to be Queen."

"The Landsmeet will have no choice but to let you. If Alistair wasn't alive, you would be next in line for the throne anyway, either you or Fergus. As the wife to the heir, you'd have an even greater claim."

"Damn you, Cailan." She hung her head down between her knees. "Damn you to the ends of the Fade."

"Why didn't you marry me? I honestly want to know."

She met his eyes and sighed. "Honestly?"

"Yes, honestly."

"Every time I look at you, I see the boy who threw my dolls and books. I remember you telling Maric it was my fault when you broke the chandelier, and ripped a hole through your mother's portrait. Maker, you were so obnoxious, Cailan! I was so desperate to not have to spend the rest of my life with you that I killed Sophia and Roslyn and Dinea -"

"You loved Dinea," he recalled. "You had matching wardrobes, even."

"How did you -? No! I was horrified with the thought of become wife to the little boy who hated me so much he destroyed my things!"

Cailan broke down in a cascade of quiet laughter. "I never hated you, Tesslyn! For the love of Andraste, I was just trying to get you to like me! I was trying to get you put down your books and pay attention to me for once. I only saw you three times a year."

"You couldn't have asked? Like a normal superior being?"

He looked at her. "Do you like him? Alistair?"

She stared in silence for a moment. "He has been wonderful."

"Do you like him? I saw you grab his bum," he said.

"That was payback. He made me flush like a bonfire." She was even a little pink in reminiscence.

"I admit I'm envious of you both. You look at each other magnificently. I don't feel that with Anora at all. I've tried looking for it other places. I just can't find it. It's always been you, but..." he shook his head and drank again.

"You're over-thinking this, Cailan. Our family is cursed with tragedy in love."

"That does seem to be the case, doesn't it?" He paused. "If you hadn't met him, I would be trying to seduce you right now." He took another drink. "The one thing I've always wanted, and now she belongs to my brother. Does he know you know?"

"I don't know if he knows that I know." Cailan smiled at her. She even cracked a small one in return. "I haven't told him, but I think he suspects. He doesn't seem to want to talk about it. And I don't belong to anyone."

He laughed again. "You definitely belong to Alistair, Tesslyn. Everyone here can see it. But...all things considering, I approve. I still wish that was me, but he looks happy. You both do."

"I spend a total of one day with the man, and that makes us star-crossed lovers?" she was befuddled.

"It's your behavior when you're with him, Tesslyn, and his. He has a reputation for being the annoying, rambunctious, naive virgin, and suddenly he's found a woman who won't tear her eyes from him."

"He has remarkable freckles."

"Of course," he laughed. He watched her take a drink, then drank for himself. He looked down at the bottle. "Please take care of him?" he pressed. "He deserves you."

"Your little brother deserves an assassin? Classic sibling rivalry if I ever saw it."

"How many times have I tried to marry you? This isn't rivalry, I approve of you more than any woman in this country. He deserves to be taken care of, and he deserves it from the woman he adores," he told her.

She looked conflicted. "I never intended to take the throne with him, Cailan."

"But you have to, to keep history from repeating itself. You know what to watch for. You will make a fine queen as long as you're his queen." He stood. "Promise me, cousin."

She looked like she didn't want to promise what he was asking. She stood with a small sigh.

"Tesslyn?" he prompted.

"I promise to take care of Alistair," she whispered.

"And not in the assassin-way," he joked.

"I promise to nurture him, not kill him," she elaborated.

Cailan tilted her head to see in her eyes. A moment of searching; a lifetime of memories trying to win her heart. He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. She tasted of the bitter brandy they had shared, but her lips were soft. If only he could freeze time. "Goodbye," he whispered. He pressed his lips harder, wanting nothing more than waste the afternoon charming her into his bare arms. But she was no longer acquirable.

His heart in Tesslyn would be all that remained of him come daybreak. The most important heirloom Cailan would leave his brother. He left her swiftly, the bottle in her hands and regret on her face.

Alistair sat with a sour knot in his gut next to Tess' mabari some paces outside the king's tent. Tess had joined Cailan after all. The two had been in there for some time. Alistair even had time to change into his armor, and get bread, smoked ham and a sack of cheese wedges from the cook. But with his stomach in such a knot, his imagination running wild, he could only bring a bottle of wine to his lips.

The flat to the royal tent opened and Cailan stepped out in his golden armor. Alistair stood, prepared to confront his brother, but Cailan headed straight for him. Tess emerged, still dressed, a bottle in her hands and a furrowed brow. Before Alistair could say anything, Cailan wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I am sorry for everything, brother,"Cailan whispered.

"I – what? What's going on?" Alistair asked, watching Tess ahead of him because he couldn't otherwise move.

"Surely you can give your only brother a hug, now?" Cailan said. Uncertain and awkward, Alistair hugged his brother the best he could with full hands.

"What's going on?" he repeated.

"I'm proud of you, brother." This was most Cailan had ever acknowledged him as family. They'd never talked for more than a moment before."You are the finest Grey Warden I know, and a worthy man."

"All right, Cailan, now you're worrying me," Alistair said.

Cailan pulled back and held him by the shoulders; Alistair was slightly taller. That signature radiant smile beamed before him. But there was something wrong. Cailan's brow grooved just enough to expose concern. "Make an honest woman out of her, Alistair."

"What?" His eyes flashed to Tess. She, too, was disturbed.

"Live gloriously. Lead gloriously. Follow your heart. Never let her out of your sight." Cailan clasped him in another hug and kissed his cheek. Then he let go and stepped aside to make room for Tesslyn.

"Cailan," she said. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

Cailan reapplied had a mask of confidence. "For what?" he laughed. "Smile, cousin! These drooling men need a strong woman to show them how it's done!" The King of Ferelden bowed elaborately to them, Tess at Alistair's side. "You have my blessing, my friends. I wish I could be there to give you away, cousin." With that, Cailan turned his back to them and departed.

"What in Andraste's name was that about?" Alistair wondered aloud.

"He was saying goodbye."

"Goodbye? He means to die?" He hissed.

"He doesn't believe he will survive."

"But he's been so confident! He's made everyone believe we'll win."

"Deception apparently runs quite well in my family."

"So...he took you in there to…say goodbye? He didn't -"

Tess met his eyes. "No, he didn't. He kissed me, but that was it." She took a drink from the bottle in her hand. "He gave me instruction for after he dies." She took another drink, and another. "Damn that man!" she muttered, conflict contorting her face.

Alistair was suddenly very aware that, despite he enjoyed the day with her, Tess had a life of her own before him. Including becoming close to being his only brother's wife. His infatuation with her was silly, meek. A childish attraction.

"Did you…do you regret not marrying him?"

She looked up at him.

"Did you kiss him back?" Yes, Alistair was jealous. She was his. Duncan himself gave her to him.

"No and no."

"He told me not to let you out of my sight."

"I thought you and I had already established that?" she challenged. Flirted? His gut began unraveling. Maybe he hadn't imagined the euphoria from the day at all.

Her eyes traveled down, and she scoped out his Grey Warden armor. "Oh, I have the rest of your armor," he told her, gesturing off to their tents.

"Are we allowed to wear the same costume to the same party?" she joked.

He smiled for her. "I guarantee you look better in it than I do."

"I seriously doubt that." She peeked in the sack or cheese, and gasped. "You didn't!" she snatched it from him, and he chuckled.

"I did, but you have to share. I happen to like cheese."

"Pucker off!" She immediately turned and tried to walk off with the sack.

He laughed. "You spend half an hour with the King, and suddenly think you can do anything you want!" he teased.

"I can do anything I want!" She put a chunk of cheese in her mouth, making sure he watched.

"That's very cute," he grinned.

"Good." She came back to him to put a piece to his lips, and all of a sudden the warm feelings came rushing back. Swelling affection exploded in his chest and spread like the Flame of Andraste to his every digit. This is what he wanted, to share with her. He wanted to share everything with her. Alistair closed his lips and took the cheese with his tongue, licking her fingers. Eyes locked, he sucked her fingers clean. Intimate; he understood the word now. "Are you trying to turn me on just moments before battle?" she whispered.

He laughed a little. "Yes." She turned away with a shy grin. He didn't even care if he was imagining it all. What she did to him felt real enough.

They sat in front of their tents to eat. It turned out she burned through the lyrium faster when she drank, as well as when she was angry. She went through two vials of lyrium while they emptied a bottle of wine together. Duncan still hadn't showed by the time the sun fell. They gave Po the rest of the bread, drank a bit more wine, and Alistair pulled Tess to her feet to finish dressing her.

"You realize it looks like you're worshiping me when you're like this?" she said.

Alistair looked up, crouched in front of her as he secured her shin guards on. "I am worshiping you," he said.

"I don't suppose this is why everyone keeps telling us to get married already?" she smirked.

He grinned. "I don't care what anyone says. As long as you're not marrying the King, I think my windows of opportunity are still wide open." He tightened the straps behind her calf.

"And…what if a king asked me for my hand?"

He looked up again. "A king?" he echoed.

"A king," she confirmed.

"Does this king have a name?"

She hesitated. "Give me a moment. I hadn't thought this far ahead." He laughed, standing up. Alistair lowered the mantle over her head, and he did a double-take. She had a distant glaze in her eyes even as she looked at him. "Are you afraid of death, Alistair?" she whispered.

He glanced to her eyes as he fastened straps around her upper arm, securing the shoulder piece. "We are not talking about death, Tesslyn," he said gently. "I expect you back here as soon as this thing is over."

"But are you?" she insisted.

He sighed. "Death, no. Dying…yeah, a little." He stepped to the side to fasten the other shoulder piece. "I guess I'm more afraid of what dying means," he told her.

"What does it mean to you?" She looked up him.

"As of yesterday, it meant nothing. But right now…death either means leaving you, or losing you. I don't want either of those to happen." He slid behind her before he could distract himself in the emeralds that searched his face. He tightened the straps over her arms and around her ribs, weaving them through buckles. Alistair crossed them for reinforcement; as protected as possible.

"Alistair? If tonight fares poorly…" she began as he stood before her her again.

"I can't promise we won't die, Tess," he couldn't make the words out louder than a whisper.

"I know. I was just…I just want to thank you. For being the only friend I've ever had." Her eyes glossed over as she searched him.

"My Lady, the honor is all mine," he insisted. He brought the back of her hand up to his lips. She truly looked stricken by the notion this was goodbye.

"Please don't die," she whispered. "I don't have anyone else."

"You have my word that I will try my hardest to stay alive. I will do whatever it takes to come back to you," he promised her. Her bottom lip quivered, and before he could blink, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him with an iron grip, and Alistair could not move. So he held her.

It was in the act of hugging this frightened woman that Alistair caught a glimpse of a life he might have had in some other future. Someone who loved him and feared for his safety, someone to mourn him if he never returned, someone to miss him. Someone to hold him when he did come home. It was this moment that kept him frozen to her. Her fear that he would leave her was enough to scare him into thinking the same. After all, Cailan believed they would fail. It had to be true then, right? So was this all Alistair met Tess for? The Maker's final gift so Alistair would know what it felt like to love and be loved upon dying? So he would understand the true meaning of sacrifice when it came down to him or her? He buried his face in her neck. No, this wasn't fair. He wanted more time with her.

He pressed his lips to the side of her head. "I'm proud to have you, Tesslyn."