Chapter Four: Trouble Breathing

The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil

And grew jealous of the life

They could not feel, could not touch.

In blackest envy were the demons born.

-Erudition 2:1

They were traveling back to Redcliffe, the pouch of sacred ashes stored safely in Adalia's breastplate. Her arm was held carefully in front of her in a make shift sling, broken from a fight with a High Dragon. Wynne had not been able to fully heal her, the woman's energy drained. The elderly mage was leaning heavily on her staff, walking slowly and looking as though she was about to pass out. Redcliffe Castle became visible in the distance, and Adalia let out an audible sigh of relief. The trip to the Sacred Temple was far from fun, as though any of this had been. The tests they had been put through were easy enough, but coming face to face with her "father," she almost had not made it. He told her he was proud of her, proud of all that she had done, and it took everything in her to not break down and cry. Not in front of Wynne and Leliana, and most certainly not in front of Alistair. Her father had given her an amulet, and disappeared from her life again. They finished the trials, retrieved the ashes, and headed back to Redcliffe to save Arl Eamon, leaving Brother Genitivi to explore the ruined temple.

Alistair looked over his shoulder, watching Adalia stumble over the rocky terrain, Leliana further yet behind them, assisting Wynne. He stopped, waiting for Adalia to catch up to him.

"Perhaps we should rest for the night. It looks like everyone could use it." He said, putting his hand on the elbow of her good arm. She nodded, grateful.

They had their tents set up, and the moon was high in the sky. Adalia sat on the edge of a small stream, the warm water trickling over her feet. Wynne had gone to bed as soon as her tent was set up, and Leliana sat near the fire, singing softly to herself. Alistair had wondered off to scout the area, giving Adalia time to herself for the first time in weeks. She carefully lifted the side of her tunic, groaning at the dark bruising that covered her ribs. She pulled her back towards her, rummaging through it for a healing potion but her fingers found something else instead. She pulled out the rose Alistair had given her, spinning it lightly in her good hand. Sandal had been able to enchant the flower with lyrium, so it would never die. Well, not in her life time, at least. She lay the rose down on the grass, staring into the water as she thought about the journey tomorrow morning. They were spending a lot of time dealing with issues in Redcliffe, and they still had two treaties to fulfill.

On their first visit to Redcliffe, they had learned the Arls son, Connor, was possessed. A mage imprisoned in the dungeon told them the only options were to kill Connor, or travel into the fade, sacrificing someone. Adalia had seen the look on Alistair's face when Jowan said this. If she had chosen either option, he would have been devastated. They had to travel to the Circle of Magi for one of the treaties, so it had clearly been a better choice to travel there and seek further assistance. Adalia glanced over her shoulder, back to the camp. In the long run, it had been a good choice. Had they not gone to the Circle when they did, had Wynne not volunteered to join them, Adalia would be in worse condition then she was now. The young Warden pulled her feet from the water, looking down at the rose again. The night after saving Connor, Alistair had approached Adalia in the camp, taking her hands into his. He thanked her in a near whisper, leaning down and kissing her softly on the lips before disappearing into his tent for the night, leaving Adalia staring after him.

Adalia grabbed her pack, heading back to the camp, cursing herself for not putting her boots on first. Alistair was sitting near the fire, a book in his hand, Leliana gone.

"She went to bed." Alistair stated, noticing Adalia looking around the camp. She dropped her pack on the ground, carefully sitting down next to Alistair, who slid closer to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, looking at her arm, her eyes following his.

"Alright. Still sore, but it will heal. My ribs are a different story." she said with a lopsided smile. She leaned against his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead. Adalia heard someone clear their throat, and looked up to see Wynne standing nearby.

"I..uh... wood. I mean... I need to go get some." Alistair said, quickly scrambling to his feet, nearly causing Adalia to fall over. Alistair was gone before she even had time to recover, Wynne chuckling softly. She sat down across from Adalia, looking at the Grey Warden.

"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?" the mage asked. Adalia cocked an eyebrow.

"I don't know. I don't really know what this is." she replied honestly.

"I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. Alistair is a fine lad, but quite inexperienced when it comes to affairs of the heart. I would hate to see him get hurt." Wynne said. Adalia was taken back.

"Are you saying I might hurt Alistair?" Wynne thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Not intentionally, no, but there is great potential for tragedy here, for one or both of you. You are both Grey Wardens. You have responsibilities which supercede your personal desires."

"Our duty would always come first." Adalia stated matter of factly. She knew where Wynne was going with this.

"That may be true but he is still a Warden. Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?" she asked. Adalia wished the woman would just go back to her tent. This is the last thing she wanted to think about right now.

"And what am I supposed to do, tell him to go away?" Adalia threw her arms into the air.

"You may have to, to save one or both of you unnecessary anguish later on." Wynne said. Adalia was getting angry.

"I understand." she said through gritted teeth. She could feel Wynne watching her, but Adalia avoided eye contact, hoping the woman would get the hint. And Adalia's hopes came true, as Wynne returned to her tent. Adalia sat alone, poking the dying fire, thinking about her words. Damn woman. Alistair dropped a pile of wood beside her, disturbing her thoughts and startling her.

"Sorry." he apologized, watching her as he tossed a few branches into the fire. "What's wrong?" he asked, moving to sit at her side.

"Nothing. Just tired." she lied, leaning on Alistair's shoulder. This isn't something she wanted to talk about, not now.

They had just left camp and were heading to Redcliffe when Alistair pulled her aside. The sun was barely over the horizon, but the day was already warm. Wynne and Leliana looked over their shoulders, but continued on their way as Adalia waved them on.

"Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something that I should have told you earlier."

"If it's about the addiction to cheese, or the strange obsession with your hair, then don't worry about it. I know." She said, smiling. Her smile faded when she saw the look on his face. She waited patiently for him to speak again.

"I told you before how Arl Eamon raised me and my mother was a serving girl at the castle, right? The reason he did that was because.. uh... well.. my father was King Meric. Which made Cailan my half brother, I suppose." He was fidgeting, staring down at his feet and scraping his boot in the dirt. Adalia realized her jaw had dropped, and she quickly snapped it shut.

"So... you're not just a bastard but a royal bastard?" she asked, trying to lighten the conversation and his nerves. Alistair chuckled, rubbing his face.

"Yes, I guess it does at that. I should use that line more often. I would have told you sooner, but it never really meant anything to me. I was inconvenient, a possible threat to Cailan's rule, and so they kept me secret. I've never talked about it to anyone. Everyone who knew either resented me for it or they coddled me... even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it. I didn't want you to know, as long as possible. I'm sorry." Adalia thought about her own family, and realized she had never spoke to Alistair about it. Now was not the time, though. Not after what he had just told her.

"I understand." She said nodding. Alistair sighed, pulling the small Warden into a hug.

"Good, I'm glad. At any rate that's it. That's what I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it."

"Should I be calling you Prince Alistair now?" she asked, poking him in the ribs.

"No! Makers breath, just hearing that gives me a heart attack. It's not true, anyhow. I'm the son of a commoner. It was always made clear that the throne is not in my future. And that's fine by me. No, if there's an heir to be found its Arl Eamon himself. He is not of royal blood but he is Cailan's uncle, and more importantly very popular with the people. So there you have it. Now can we move on and I'll just pretend you still think I'm some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens." He pulled away from her, smiling.

"Aren't you?" she asked, starting to follow after the two ladies, adjusting the strap of her pack over her good shoulder.

"See? I knew you could do it. It's easy, isn't it?" Alistair called after her.

"Yes, your Highness." She didn't need to look back over her shoulder to know he had a disgusted look on his face.

It took them little time to reach the castle, arriving in the mid morning. They were all exhausted and dirty, Adalia's ribs still throbbing. She had stood by Eamon's bedside while a mage administered the ashes, the Arl slowly rising from his deep sleep. As Teagan and Alistair filled Eamon in, Adalia stood in the shadows, slowly leaving the room, Alistair's eyes on her. He needed time to be alone with Eamon, and Wynne's words still filled Adalia's head. She was beginning to think the mage was right, and she should end things between her and Alistair, whatever they were.

Adalia wandered through the castle and found herself in a large round study. Books lined the shelves wrapping around the room, and papers were neatly piled on the desk. Adalia wandered around the room, looking at the extravagant paintings and weavings, picking up delicate ornaments resting on the dark shelves. Something in an open desk drawer caught her eye. She picked it up gently, a heavy medallion on a chain, her finger tracing the cracks running through the silver amulet, the symbol of Andraste etched into the surface and filled with gold. Adalia pocketed the chain, turning to leave the room. A servant met her down the hall, letting her know that the Arl was planning to have a dinner that eve, and her presence was required. Adalia sighed, and the petite elf continued to tell her that messengers were already sent out to alert any near by nobles and important folk.

"They wish dress to be a little more... elegant." the woman said, eyeing Adalia's dirty, ichor splattered armour, the only armour she had with her. She recalled a night at camp when Alistair and Leliana sat around the fire joking about how Adalia should have been born a boy.

"Can you draw me a bath?" Adalia asked of the elf, and the woman nodded and turned to leave. "And a dress?" Adalia called down the hallway after the elf. Adalia headed back to her room, but stopped in front of Alistair's door. She needed to speak to him, and though it may not be the most appropriate time, sooner was better than later. She knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, her head hanging into her chest in regret.

Alistair was sitting in his room, debating on whether he should wear his armour, or the tunic and soft leather britches that Teagan had left for him. His first instinct was to ask Adalia, but she had left Eamon's chambers so suddenly he knew something was wrong, and he hadn't been able to find her. A soft knock at the door drew his attention, and he pulled it open, Adalia standing before him. His smile quickly disappeared when he saw the look on her face. He stepped out of the way, letting her into the room.

"We need to end this." she said quietly, her back to him.

"Oh." he felt like he was going to vomit. "I... I see. Can I ask why?" Alistair asked, his voice breaking. He moved so he was standing in front of her.

"Where do you realistically see this going between us?" she asked, shuffling her feet. He didn't understand why she couldn't look at him.

"I don't know. We have the Blight to think about first, don't we? Everything else just seems so distant. But I.. I thought we might have a future together, or something." He said, gently lifting her chin up. She pulled away, and took a step back from him.

"You and I both know it's next to impossible for two Wardens to have children together. And with you being the heir of a king, bastard or no, I don't think there is a future for us." Alistair's head was spinning. She had been so calm this morning when he told her. What had made her change her mind so suddenly?

"But maybe the future doesn't have to involve children, or marriage or... anything." Alistair was grabbing at straws.

"It doesn't have to involve anything. Exactly." Adalia said, looking away from him again.

"If that is what you really want.. then so be it. I'd hoped... no, never mind, its done, since that is apparently what you want." He told her, when really all he wanted to tell her were those words he had never told another before. He wanted to tell her that he was in love with her. Now he felt his heart breaking in his chest. He moved to the door, throwing it open. "Go." his words were a lot more harsh then he intended, and he watched Adalia as she left the room, half expecting her to change her mind. She disappeared around the corner, Alistair slamming the door shut. He pushed his back to it, sinking down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, tears dripping off his chin. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried.

Alistair didn't know how long her had sat there for, his eyes dry and tired. A knock on the door above his head startled him, but Alistair didn't move immediately.

"What?" he asked the unknown person, still not leaving his place on the floor.

"Alistair, it's Teagan. We're waiting for you downstairs. Are you planning on gracing us with your presence?" Alistair groaned, leaning his head against the door. This is the last thing he wanted to do right now.

"I'll be down in a moment. I'm just... I'll be right there." That seemed to have satisfied Teagan, as Alistair heard the man's footsteps disappear down the hall. Alistair pulled himself to his feet, looking at his heavily damaged armour, and settled on the tunic, pulling it over his head and smoothing it across his chest. He was going to have to move on if he was going to continue to travel with her, dispite how painful it may be. He finished dressing, pulling on his boots when a servant knocked on the door, advising him again that people were waiting.

Adalia sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the pile of dresses that Isolde sent to her. Frilly Orlesian dresses. Adalia sneered at them in disgust, half tempted to show up in her dirt stained tunic. There was a knock on her door, and Leliana entered without waiting for a response.

"I could have been naked, you know." Adalia commented, still staring at the dresses. Leliana chuckled, moving to sort through the gowns.

"Oh, how lovely! Oh, and shoes to match! What a difficult choice!" Adalia watched as Leliana held a dress up to her chest, spinning around gracefully, the flowing skirts of her own dress dancing with her.

"Yes, well, I'm not exactly in the mood for fancy garments." Adalia said, loooking down at her hands clasped in her lap. Leliana suddenly stopped, moving to sit next to the young Warden,

"Does it have something to do with Wynne's conversation last night?" Adalia's eyes shot up to meet Leliana's, and the red haired woman nodded her head. "I overhead her. May I speak freely?" she asked, and Adalia nodded, unsure of what the bard was about to say. "My mother used to tell me that when two people are meant to be together, you will feel it," Leliana pointed to her heart, "and you will know that is the person that you share a soul with. Follow your heart, and don't listen to that meddling old woman." Adalia stared at Leliana for a moment, thinking. Two people, one soul.

"You can take your time thinking on that, my lovely lady, but for now it's time to get dressed!"

Alistair sat at the long wooden table next to Eamon, people chatting around him, wine and ale flowing readily. The chair across from him remained empty; Adalia had yet to arrive. Arl Eamon was talking about the plan for a Landsmeet when a young man came in and announced that the Grey Warden had arrived. Alistair almost choked on his drink when Adalia entered the room, Leliana at her side. She was wearing a long Orlesian style dress, the red silk skirts flowing like air around her ankles. A red and black bodice was laced tightly around her torso, a large ruby hung from a silver chain, resting just above her... Alistair had to turn away to prevent himself from staring, his heart stinging.

"Ah, when they told me a Grey Warden had saved me, this is most certainly not what I was expecting." The Arl said, bowing slightly. Alistair thought him flirting in front of his wife was a little out of character for the Arl, and the look on Isoldes face showed him that he was correct.

"Eamon, a pleasure to see you again, though sadly not on better circumstances." Adalia smiled, curtseying the older man.

"They know each other?" Alistair asked aloud, though no one was there to answer him.

"Yes, such a shame. Please, come sit, my ladies." Eamon led Adalia and Leliana to their seats, conviniently directly across from Alistair, who turned more red that Adalia's skirts and stared into his mug.

Alistair spent the eve talking to people he didn't know, and didn't care to, downing as much ale as he could get, progressively getting more intoxicated, and Adalia doing the best she could to ignore him. She was no better off, her cheeks getting pinker by the glass, and her flirtations with Teagan becoming more frequent, her hand on the top of his.

Alistair watched as she excused herself, and headed outside, her skirts flowing behind her. Alistair grabbed a full glass of ale and followed her out the grand doors. He found her sitting in the garden, staring up at the clear sky. He sat down next to her, resting in silence for a few moments before speaking.

"Why do you hate me all of a sudden? What did I do to upset you?" he asked, taking a swig of the beer. Adalia's long raven hair hung down across her chest, and he realized it was the first time he had seen her with her hair that way.

"What a womanly thing to ask." she stated, her gaze not moving.

"I... wha...how so?" Alistair sputtered.

"That's something a ridiculous, self conscious woman would say after a break up. 'What did I do?', 'Why don't you care about me anymore?', 'How can I change everything about my self to be exactly what you need me to be so you'll love me again?'" she said in a mocking voice. "I don't hate you. Why do you assume I do?" her eyes finally met his, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears.

"Just... everything. You don't talk to me, And I don't understand why we had to end...why we weren't working." he resisted the urge to reach out and brush a tear off her pale cheek.

"If we do nothing but try to protect each other then we are never going to succeed with our mission. Look at us. You nearly had yourself impaled jumping between one of those cult leaders and myself, and my ribs are broken from getting you out of the way of that sodding dragon. What's going to happen when this gets harder. I care, but I am not letting you get hurt, or worse."

"But we can make it work! We can be careful." Alistair tried to protest, putting his hands on either side of Adalia's waist. She stood up suddenly, angered that he wasn't listening to her, alcohol flooding her head.

"Enough! This is done. We're done! I have bigger things to worry about then your emotions!" she threw his hands away from her, and took off back through the garden to the castle, leaving Alistair heart broken and alone with his beer.

Adalia returned to Eamon, excusing herself for the eve, saying she was exhausted. She left for her room, feeling guilty about the way she had just spoken to Alistair. He eventually returned to the hall, and proceeded to drink the kitchen out of ale. He was about to start on the wine when Eamon finally sent him to his quarters, Isolde looking embarrassed. Alistair stumbled through the door of his room, muttering something about the stables. He didn't even close the door behind him as he moved to the bed, falling onto the down mattress face first. He sighed, rolling over as her heard the door to his room close, but he didn't look up.

"Everything alright?" Adalia asked, moving closer to him, and he groaned loudly.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked rudely, throwing an arm across this eyes. Adalia had expected that.

"I came to talk. About what I said outside." Alistair pulled himself up, tugging off his boots.

"I think you've said enough. I'm going to bed. You have a great night." he said sarcastically, still not looking directly at her. He laid back down on the bed and heard her move closer to him, standing right next to the bed. He could see that she was still wearing the red dress that flattered her chest and waist so. It was just a shame that it hid her curvy hips. He rubbed his eyes.

"Stop thinking about that." he thought to himself.

"Stop thinking about what?" Adalia asked, sitting down next to him. Apparently it hadn't been to himself.

"Nothing," he said, moving up so his back was against the wall at the head of the bed, tossing pillows out of the way.

"Look, I'm sorry. I feel terrible..." Adalia started, but Alistair cut her off.

"You damn well should." he spat, his eyes burning through her. A tear dripped from her eye, landing on her chest.

"Ali, I hate this. I hate all of this. Do you think I want to be fighting for my life every day? That I don't just want to be a normal twenty year old woman, picking out shoes and jewelry?" Adalia was crying heavily now, and Alistair had never seen her this upset. "My parents are dead, my brother missing. All my friends are dead, and you're the only person I have." She was hyperventilating, gasping for breath as the tears poured down on to her dress. Alistair slid forward, pulling Adalia into his lap, smoothing her hair and wiping her cheeks. He had no idea what she was talking about, but right now it didn't matter.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, and I always will be." He laid back against the bed, pulling her onto his chest, Adalia's breathing calming. They lay there in silence for a few minutes, before Alistair leaned down, kissing her forehead.

"I forgive you." he whispered, and felt Adalia chuckle against his chest.

"I didn't apologize for anything." the silver eyed Warden said, sitting up. Alistair was about to speak, but Adalia interrupted. "I have something for you." she said, reaching into her bodice.

"I like where this is going." Alistair said, smiling. His head was starting to throb as the effects of the alcohol wore off. He rubbed his eyes, and when he looked up Adalia was dangling a pendant in front of him. Alistair gently took it from here, staring down at it.

"My mother's necklace? Where did you find this?" he asked, looking up at the smiling girl.

"It was in the Arl's study. I.. uh... borrowed it." she said sheepishly. Alistair laughed, pulling her back into his lap.

"I can't even believe you remember me talking about this. I guess I'm just so used to people ignoring everything I say."

"I always listen to you, no matter how silly you may be." Adalia said. Alistair laid back against the pillows, pulling her into the crook of his arm. That night, Adalia fell asleep in his arms, a smile on the drunken princes' face.