Rhiann was currently convinced that not only was the Maker still in the world, but he had an insatiable love for irony. The sole survivor of a noble house, paired with the last of the Theirin bloodline. Her house was dead, and she stripped of rank and title; he was an unacknowledged bastard son with no interest in pushing a claim to the throne.

There must be divine aid behind it – someone had to be getting a laugh out of this situation.

Alistair had pulled her aside and confessed this little gem to her just before reaching Redcliffe. Rhiann could understand his desire not to announce his heritage to the world – especially considering the way his half brother's reign had ended – but she was equally certain it could have come up before this. She remembered thinking that for all the time they spent together, she still didn't know him very well. She might begin to, she thought sulkily, if he ever deigned to tell her anything.

She was being petty and she knew it. Alistair's royal blood had nothing to do with what they were trying to accomplish. He had told her, despite how visibly uncomfortable it had made him, for no better reason than he wanted nothing to become awkward between them. Still, an irksome voice in the back of her mind dwelt on the secrecy, and Rhiann realized, with a bit of shock, that her feelings were hurt.

If she had been surly upon reaching Redcliffe, she was positively moody now. The blacksmith who refused to aid the militia because he'd rather drink himself blind, the girl in the Chantry who could find no one willing to help her find her brother, Morrigan's disdain for all of them – Rhiann had heard nothing but a stream of excuses since entering the town. Everyone had a justification for not helping the handful who would fight, and likely die, trying to protect them. They locked themselves away with only their fear for company, content to let someone else carry the burden.

Like everything else seemed to these days, it was falling to her.

It was because of this that her voice came out sharper than necessary when Murdoch told her of a dwarven fighter who had barricaded himself in his home. "Did you say Dwyn?"

The mayor looked startled. "Do you know him?"

The spirit of a long forgotten memory rose to her mind. Rhiann's mouth went into a straight, hard line. "I'll get him out here."

She marched towards the docks, her party hurrying to keep up with her.

"Did I miss something?" Alistair asked, trying and failing to keep pace with her. He settled instead for grabbing her arm and pulling her to a halt. "Do you know this dwarf?"

"We've met," she answered shortly. Only once, true, as the dwarf fled Orzammar. "I went through him once to buy a few … more exotic items."

Alistair just blinked at her. Leliana chuckled softly. "She means poisons."

She didn't want to see his reaction to that little tidbit, instead turning and picking up her angry stride again. She reached the door pointed out to her and pounded at it. "Dwyn! You wretched coward! Get out here!"

There was no answer. She stepped back and eyeballed the door's lock. It was simple enough, but her mood demanded a more violent solution. With something akin to a growl she kicked it as hard as she could. The wood gave with a satisfying crack and the door swung open.

"Well, look who it is," the dwarf sneered as she barged into his home. "I never thought I'd see you again, Lady-"

"Why aren't you helping the town?" she demanded.

Dwyn looked profoundly unconcerned at her display of temper. "And why should I? When has this town ever come to my assistance?"

Rhiann drew her blades, and the dwarf's expression changed from unconcerned to wary. The two burly men flanking him put their hands on their weapons. "I'm in an unimaginably foul temper," she informed him in a level tone. "Get out there and help, or die in here. I don't really care either way at this point."

Behind her she heard the scrape of weapons being unsheathed, and the air sizzled as Morrigan drew on the power around her. Rhiann hadn't been certain they would back up this blatant display of bullying, but was grateful. A fine thing it would have been for her to barge in issuing orders only to have her party stand by while these three beat her into a sludgy substance.

Dwyn glanced at the formidable group behind her and seemed to reconsider. It didn't take him long. "Fine," he shrugged. "Whatever you say, my lady."

Rhiann ignored the taunt and stepped aside. After he had stomped away, she rolled her shoulders and let out a long breath. She felt much better.

Alistair practically doubled over with laughter. "That was the finest fit of pique I've ever had the honor to witness. I should make you angry more often."

She glanced at him wryly. "Oh, you do just fine."

-oOo-

Rhiann sighed as she looked at the town stretched out below her. The militia dotted the town square, looking from this vantage like tiny toy soldiers. The last of the civilians darted in between the armed men, making their way to the Chantry and hopefully, safety. There were only two hours left before sunset, and Rhiann could practically see the dark cloud of fear that began to overtake the scene as night approached.

She was sitting on the boarded walkway behind the tavern, enjoying a few stolen moments of solitude before darkness fell. She had done all she could to ready the town to defend itself. All she could do now was wait and hope that it was enough. Leliana had gone to the Chantry to pray. Alistair and Morrigan were helping the knights haul the oil to the hill – and ideally not killing each other in the process.

Alistair found her there a short time later, just as the light began to darken. Without speaking he sat down beside her, surveying the view below.

"They look ready," he commented after a moment.

"They look frightened."

He turned his attention to her, frowning slightly. "You did a good thing down there, Rhiann."

She concentrated on sharpening her dagger to avoid looking at him. "Let's hope so. I just hope I don't get them all killed."

"They have a chance now. They didn't before." He looked away, and Rhiann thought he looked nervous. "I was watching you today, working so hard to help a lot of people you don't even know. I just wanted to... thank you, I guess."

"It wasn't just up to me, you know."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Right."

"It wasn't. And what other choice did we have?"

"Well, that's kind of the point, isn't it?" He was nervous – she could see a blush beginning as he searched for the right words. "Thank you for being the type of person who didn't see any other choice." He looked down again, chuckling quietly to himself. "Hmm, that sounded better in my head."

She smiled, warmed more than she cared to admit. "I understood what you meant."

"Good," he said, obviously relieved. "Listen, I'm really bad at this sort of thing, so if you could just say You're Welcome Alistair and move on, that would be great."

Rhiann laughed. "You're welcome, Alistair."

"Much appreciated. Now, we should probably fetch the other two."

"Where did Morrigan disappear to, anyway?" she asked as he helped her to her feet.

"The tavern. I tried to tell her they probably didn't serve goat's blood, but..." he finished with a shrug.

"Alistair..."

"What? It was a sincere enough warning."

She shook her head and started for the hill. Alistair paused for a moment, looking down at the town quizzically. "Um, Rhiann?"

"Hm?"

"What is it with you and heights?"

-oOo-

It was a stupid mistake, one she never would have made normally. In the ruins of the Circle Tower, spent from the harried journey to reach it in time and now surrounded by the frightening visages of the abominations, neither Rhiann or her companions were thinking rationally. With every moment she thought of those still trapped with the possessed child. Her mind constructed hundreds of ways they could even now be suffering – and it would be her fault. All because she didn't have the strength to make the hard decision. Standing in the castle, surrounded by the horrors of magic gone awry, Rhiann had unable to bring more death upon them. Unable to see past the corpses and slaughter and Alistair's eyes, pleading with her to do... something. As the days and hours and minutes continued to pass without a solution, though, she began to wonder if choosing a victim would have been a greater act of mercy than this.

Later she would blame this exhausted line of thinking for not seeing the trap that guarded the entrance to the room. All she could see at the moment was a room full of hostile, possessed Templars and the fact that half of her party consisted of magic users.

"Templars! Wynne, Morrigan, get back!"

And she stepped right into the concealed trap like a rank amateur. Pain exploded in her ankle as the trap snapped shut, leaving her helpless. The desire demon who controlled the heavily armored warriors laughed at the sight of her struggling and began to gather the spell that would surely finish her off.

Alistair was suddenly there, his body curled around her and holding his shield in front of both of them just before blue energy exploded around them. She heard him hiss in pain as he took the brunt of what remained of the spell. Rhiann had barely comprehended what had just happened when he was up, shoving his way into the room as Morrigan's magical shield surrounded him.

Wynne's healing magic enveloped her, and Rhiann managed to struggle back to her feet, ignoring the lingering pain in her ankle as she ran, ducking a wayward swing from one of the Templars. She caught the demon in the throws of another casting and struck out with the pommel of her sword, bashing it in the mouth with a crunch. The thing screamed and cried for her Templars to aid her, but Alistair had their full attention and they did not hear her.

A few moments later it lay dead at Rhiann's feet.

She didn't pause, but turned to assist Alistair. Before she could reach him, a swirling gust of wind and snow blocked them from sight. Rhiann looked around frantically for the other caster and found Morrigan. She had dared leaving the safety of the hallway to help. As the spell faded, Alistair was left standing unharmed, surrounded by ice statues of his enemies. Together the party did away with them.

He wiped his brow with the back of his arm and stared at Morrigan in disbelief. "I have to say, I never thought I'd see you risk Templars for my sake." He glanced at the shattered remains around him. "How did you manage to hit them and not me, anyway?"

Morrigan snorted and crossed her arms before turning her back on him. "I missed."

-oOo-

Leliana did not like being left behind. She liked even less being left behind with Sten, who could ignore her attempts to speak with him for hours on end. Instead she and Aiden spent much of the time at the shore of the lake, waiting anxiously for any sign of their companions. She had been given only a brief message from a reluctant Templar, stating that due to problems in the tower her friends were delayed.

That had been a day and a half ago.

She wanted nothing more than to storm the tower herself and demand answers, but there was a small flaw in her plan. The boat had not been returned to this side of the lake. The Templars were not going to risk any more unexpected visitors.

So she paced, and paced some more, waiting.

Leliana had tried to convince Rhiann to take her along instead – surely barging into the Circle Tower with an ex-Templar and an Apostate in tow would make her the most unwelcome guest ever, but the Warden had been adamant. They heard too many rumors on the journey here, whispered stories that control of the Tower had been lost. Alistair and Morrigan knew how to handle such things better than the bard, Rhiann said, and grudgingly, Leliana was forced to agree.

She still didn't like it, anyhow, as she idly circled the empty camp again, glaring at Sten the entire time. She both envied and despised his stoicism.

Aiden suddenly leaped to his feet, his head cocked to one side. With a happy bark he abruptly bolted for the lake edge, racing along the shore and barking like a thing possessed. Leliana shielded her eyes from the sun, now low in the horizon, and looked out over the water. Her own cry of delight escaped her when she spotted the tiny vessel plodding along the sparkling surface.

She reached Alistair first, who carried an older, barely conscious woman in his arms. He looked awful, utterly exhausted and filthy, but he offered her a tired smile as she rushed up and threw an arm around his neck in a hug, nearly knocking all three of them over in her exuberance.

"Who is this?" she asked, breathless from her run.

"A mage from the tower. She's fine," he added quickly. "Just worn out."

"I've been so worried!" Leliana scolded, wringing her hands. "What happened? Is everyone else alright?"

Alistair shifted the weight of the woman he carried, strengthening his hold. "You don't mind too much if I sit down before the epic tale? She's not getting any lighter, you know."

She nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "Ooh, don't tease me! I've been here for two days – you were just supposed to ask the mages for help! None of those wretched Templars would tell me anything and it's been terrible!"

"I'm sorry, Leliana," he said, quite sincerely. "I promise I'll tell you every horrid and ghastly detail, but I've got to rest first."

Her eyes flew once again to the dark circles under his eyes, his hair limp with sweat. She bit her lip, abashed. "You are well, yes? Do you need any help?"

"And here I was beginning to wonder if you cared," he smiled, then nodded to the pier. Morrigan was disembarking, leaning heavily on her staff. "Help her, would you? She's completely drained."

Leliana trotted down to the water's edge, wondering what world Alistair lived in that he could think Morrigan would ever consent to her assistance.

Morrigan's hand shot up in warning as she approached. "I saw your last greeting. None of that, if you please."

The witch certainly looked weaker than Leliana had ever seen her, exhausted and somehow smaller. Her heart suddenly filled with pity for her. "Do you need any help?"

"T'will not be necessary, thank you," Morrigan said stiffly. Rhiann appeared beside her, grinning widely.

"She is the stubborn sort, isn't she?" she said brightly, and draped one of Morrigan's arms around her own shoulders before the taciturn apostate could protest. Much to Leliana's amazement, Morrigan did not pull away, merely scowled.

Together they made their slow way up the hill to the campsite.

Sten, showing more concern than Leliana would have credited him for, had already begun unpacking their healing supplies. He greeted Rhiann with a curt nod. "You have returned. Good. We can make several miles before nightfall."

"We're not going anywhere today," Alistair argued, emerging from Rhiann's tent where he had apparently deposited Wynne. "We can reach Redcliffe tomorrow evening."

"There is still much daylight left. You would have us waste it?" Sten's eyebrows drew together.

Rhiann sank down into the soft grass, apparently debating with herself. "Sten has a point."

"No."

Leliana started a little at the commanding tone, completely foreign for Alistair.

"You're dangerously exhausted," he continued. "That is, all of you are. Morrigan's magic is spent and we've injuries to deal with as well. And I don't much fancy trying to protect a lot of reckless women with this." He held up the shield that Uldred had cracked clean down the center, then tossed it aside. "Tomorrow is as good a time as any."

Rhiann still seemed inclined to argue. "But Connor..."

"Irving and his mages are on their way. They can keep him under control."

She sighed, then flopped back on the grass. "You win," she said wearily. The collective sigh of relief almost drowned out Sten's disapproving growl.

Leliana sat down beside her friend and looked her over critically. "You need a bath."

"I know." Rhiann wrinkled her nose slightly. "I stink. A need to eat as well, but to be honest, it doesn't much look like I'm going to move from this spot."

"There's a tavern at the top of the hill," Leliana suggested. "You can get cleaned up in the lake, and I'll go up and find us something nice for our supper for a change, yes?"

"I'll take care of that, Leliana," Alistair said softly, joining them and looking down at Rhiann in evident concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

She gave him a weak smile, but she looked pale. "I'm sure. Just very tired."

He didn't look very reassured. Rhiann closed her eyes for a moment and Alistair took the opportunity to shoot Leliana a look, glancing at Rhiann and back at her again. She understood immediately. He was concerned she had injuries she wasn't telling them about.

"Come, then, my friend," Leliana said brightly, pulling the weary girl to her feet. "Let's go make you more presentable."

Alistair nodded his thanks and deftly lifted the bag of coin from Rhiann's belt to take to the tavern. Leliana wondered if he realized the way his expression changed every time he looked at his fellow Warden, or how apparent it was that his devotion to her grew by the day.

She shook her head. Knowing men as she did, she very much doubted it.

-oOo-

She was beautiful.

He had of course noticed it before. He would have to be a blind idiot not to. But matters like betrayal and tragedy and looming Blights had a way of blurring such lines of thinking. To him, she was the other Warden, his surviving Sister. Time and effort had changed that status to friend. That in itself was a step for him. Alistair had never exactly had droves of friends to boast of, and had been surprised and pleased to learn she thought of him as such.

These new sensations she was invoking in him, however, were far less welcome. He was unsure how to deal with them and therefore tried to shove them aside. It was becoming more and more difficult. That blasted day by the stream, he thought. She had emerged from the water with her ebony hair trailing down her back to her waist, her clothes clinging to previously concealed curves. In that instant she had gone from another Warden whose company he enjoyed to something distinctly more feminine.

That evening by the fire they regaled Leliana with the promised tale of the harrowing experience. Rhiann sat beside him, turned away slightly but leaning against him. He concentrated very hard on not noticing the warmth that drenched his side through her clothing, or how soft she felt against him when things like armor and weapons weren't in the way. She let him do most of the talking, yawning occasionally. Leliana had assured him after giving Rhiann a thorough scrubbing that she was unhurt, though she did appear to be covered in bruises. He wasn't sure he understood the knowing gleam in her eyes that had come with that report – was even less sure that he wanted to.

Rhiann yawned again and rested her head on his shoulder, nearly scattering his train of thought. He ordered himself to pull it together. Her demeanor indicated nothing more that comfortable familiarity. He wasn't going to jeopardize that. She liked him, she trusted him, and he would be the worst kind of fool to drive her away because he couldn't keep his hormones in check.

When had everything gotten so wretchedly complicated?

-oOo-

Alistair awoke the next morning with a muted groan before he opened his eyes. He must have been more exhausted than he thought. He remembered only that the grass was comfortable enough beneath the blanket and the night was warm – he must have fallen asleep where he sat. His back was protesting in the harsh light of day, having discovered just how uneven the ground really was beneath him while he slept.

He shifted slightly to stretch his arms over his head, grimacing.

What the...?

He peeked one eye open and looked down for the source of the soft weight at his side. Rhiann was curled up under his arm, her head resting on his shoulder. Sometime someone, probably Leliana, had tossed a blanket over both of them.

Rhiann shivered in her sleep and shifted closer to him, instinctively shying away from the chill morning.

Remarkably, his back didn't seem to hurt anymore.