Risa was grateful that among the first humans she met had been Duncan, some Grey Wardens, Ash Warriors, and Teyrn Loghain, because otherwise should would have thought them as a race to be incredibly stupid and uselessly insuboordinate. Never had she seen such absolute lack of discipline and pride in oneself. Soldiers wandering aimlessly about the camp? Others hitting on their fellows, even when their opposite number was clearly not encouraging it? ARGUING with orders?

And then there was Alistair. Handsome, for a human, with those honey-brown eyes and the red-gold artfully mussed hair. And his sense of humor… there was something sad about the man, and the way in which he hid behind his jokes. He really seemed out of his depth though – when they'd gone into the wilds to retrieve the documents and darkspawn blood, he'd deferred to her immediately when he, in fact, was the senior officer here. She didn't mind – she'd commanded larger groups and in more desperate fights – but it wasn't proper. If he were to be a leader, he needed to lead.

She'd prowled the entire camp now, sharpening her rogue skills by opening and poking her nose into everywhere she clearly was not supposed to. It was old habit; in order to stay a jump ahead of the politics in Orzammar, one must know one's enemies intimately.

Of course, that hadn't stopped Bhelan from blindsiding her, she'd admitted to herself bitterly. Little had she known as she insisted to him that she could trust Trian because Trian was her brother that Bhelen even then was planning to teach her she could not trust even family. That was a learning experience to be sure, and a costly one: she had lost her family, her lover, her position, her home – everything that made her herself. Now she was a surface, no better than a brand, and she knew that someday, she would find a way to repay Bhelan for that kindness.

She got up from the fire, hardly paying attention to Jory or Daveth. Daveth was like a tomcat, prowling around looking for a willing pussy. Fortunately, his tastes did not run to Dwarves, or she'd have had to deck him already. Jory was an egotist, fool and coward, and not worth her time. Alistair… well, he was somewhat promising. A word or two on the eve of battle sometimes was all that was necessary to steady the nerves.

She stood, and walked over to where Alistair was sitting looking into the fire. "Mind if I join you?"

Alistair looked up, surprised, and smiled. "Sure, make yourself comfortable."

She sat beside him, nodded as if deciding before speaking. "May I be frank with you?"

"You may, or Alrik or even Jordan, but I think I'd much rather you were Risa," he joked.

She nodded, absorbing this, and looked left and right. Daveth was lounging on a tree trunk laid on its side as a bench and clearly listening to every word. She reached over, touched Alistair's shoulder, and said quietly, "Walk with me."

Daveth leered as they went past. "Like it a bit forceful, do you…?"

Risa didn't dignify it with even a comment. She simply kicked the trunk, rolling it and spilling him to the ground as they passed. "HEY!"

She led Alistair over to the broken bridge to the Tower of Ishal, and leaned against the wall, looking down over the chasm.

"Why do you defer to me," she asked quietly. "You are the senior warden, yet you allowed me to lead us through the wilds. I know you do not fear battle; you rushed groups of darkspawn and killed them with great skill and efficiency."

He gave her a grin, and said lightly, "Well, you're clearly an accomplished commander; you had Jory and Daveth organized into a pretty deadly unit in no time. And you're amazing at finding stuff – I watched you reading those Chasind trail signs like it was nothing, and you got us a pretty good set of extra weapons and…"

"I didn't ask about my abilities as a leader," she said firmly. "I asked why you do not lead."

He frowned, and looked a bit sullen, as if he didn't want to get into this. "Yes, Revered Mother," he grumbled.

"Look," she said patiently, "units need a clear chain of command. You're in charge, but I'm giving orders. That's confusing to your men and hesitation to follow orders because one is not sure whose supercede the others could be deadly."

He laughed it off, as he did everything he found uncomfortable. "Lead? Me? No no no…. me leading is bad – we end up going in circles, and somehow we all lose our pants…."

She snorted, choking back a chuckle. "Speak for yourself, long shanks. Though in Daveth's case it's not so much LOSING as tearing off in hopes of impressing the ladies." She froze suddenly, frowning slightly.

"What's wrong?" He picked up on her shift in mood immediately, and Ancestors above, he did not kneel to her level as if she were a child, nor loom – he just leaned his elbows against the wall.

She took a breath, exhaled slowly, considering. "I have not found much to laugh about of late," she said gravely, looking up at him.

He smiled warmly. "Well. We'll have to do something about that."