For the next few days, the three of them did odd jobs around the city for money, chasing down nugs or bartending at Tapsters as needed by the local shop owners. Illyria found fighting at that week's Proving to be particularly profitable, as throngs of dwarves, humans, and elves were starved for entertainment in the overcrowded city. Hoping to recruit another trusted friend to their cause, she asked around Tapsters about Oghren. But he had long since gone alone into the Deep Roads in search of his wife Branka. He had yet to return.

After their third full day in the city, the trio were able to buy another two tents, a bedroll and pack for Illyria, health poultices, and additional provisions. They had some money left over, and their hope was that ships still sailed out of Jader to the north, as the Blight had not fully reached the far northwest corner of Ferelden. Otherwise, the trip by land around the Waking Sea to Val Royeaux would take over two months.

The journey to Jader was difficult. Even without the threat of darkspawn looming over every ridge, the rocky terrain and high elevation made travel slow and tiring. Alistair stumbled often, lacking the surefootedness his Dalish companions had learned growing up in the wilderness. And then the darkspawn did attack, again and again, during any hour of the day or night. They took to wearing light leather armor as they slept, so they would at least have some protection when they were attacked in the middle of the night. Each night found them tumbling to their bedrolls in quiet exhaustion, but even then, sleep was often elusive, as every small sound in the night woke them in anticipation of another darkspawn attack.

Hunting, at least, proved fruitful, as the animals in the area had not yet been touched by the darkspawn taint. When they were two days away from Jader, they made their camp in a small clearing at the base of a rocky hill, and Illyria caught three rabbits for dinner. They sat in silence as they ate, as they usually did, too weary from the day's efforts to attempt conversation. It was Alistair's turn at first watch, and he settled in beside the fire, watching the flames dance.

Illyria emerged from her tent a few hours later and sat down at the campfire. She had her blanket around her, and pulled it tighter to protect against the breeze.

"Trouble sleeping?" Alistair asked softly.

She nodded wordlessly and proceeded to set some water to boil for tea. They sat together in a comfortable silence.

Illyria poured herself a cup of the hot water and sprinkled in herbs from a pouch at her waist. "You can go to sleep if you want," she said, warming her hands around the hot cup. "I'm not sure if I'll be going back to bed anytime soon, and Tamlen should be up in about an hour."

Alistair smiled. "I'll be fine. Besides, you're still half-asleep. You'd pour the darkspawn some tea before you even realized what was happening."

The corners of her mouth curled upward as she sipped from the cup. "What if it's magic tea and killed them all in an instant?"

Alistair chuckled. "Ah, if only."

Silence fell upon them again. As Illyria finished her tea, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Alarmed at first, she turned to look, but immediately relaxed when she saw what it was. "Are you shivering?"

Alistair shrugged. "Maybe a little. It is winter, after all."

Illyria made a tutting noise, went to Alistair's tent, and retrieved his blanket. "You'll get sick if you're not careful," she said. She walked over to him and draped the blanket over his shoulders. "You're not allowed to get sick, all right?"

Alistair raised an eyebrow in an amused expression. "Yes, ma'am."

But it was clear after a few moments that the blanket did little to warm him, and he still trembled as he pulled it tighter around him.

"I thought women were the ones who got cold easily," she teased him.

"Are you calling me a woman?" he said, feigning outrage.

"I'm not calling you a man," she replied with a smile.

Alistair laughed. "Ouch! You wound me, my lady!"

"Here, this should help." Illyria took her blanket and draped half of it over his left shoulder. She plopped herself down beside him and drew herself close, covering herself with the other half of the blanket.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm feeling warmer already."

She looked up at him and grinned at the slow blush she knew she would find there. "I'm not crowding you, am I?"

He shook his head. "No… well, sort of. But, it's, um… nice. Nice crowding."

As they sat and stared at the fire, she found herself feeling strangely at home, yet homesick at the same time. The closeness felt familiar and right. She forced herself to remember that the man next to her was not her husband, and she clutched her wedding ring to hold on to that knowledge. It had been nearly 2 weeks since she saw her Alistair last, and she missed him dearly.

"What do you think about when you're on watch?" she asked in a near whisper.

Alistair sighed. "Lots of things. People mostly. Duncan, Eamon, Teagan, Connor."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I think it might just make me angry. Or sad. Probably both. And I'm too tired to be either."

"You should go get some sleep," she urged gently. "I'm more awake now. I promise not to serve the darkspawn tea."

He smiled. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely, go on."

Alistair got up and draped the other half of her blanket over her. He paused before going to his tent. "Illyria?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you always worrying over me?"

She smiled up at him. "It's my job, silly. And you're my friend. Now, go to sleep, emma lath."

He nodded, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. "Good night." And he disappeared into his tent.

Tamlen emerged from his tent a moment later and sat next to Illyria. As he gathered together his bow and arrows, his movements clashed loudly against the tin cups in his pack.

"Tamlen?" Illyria looked at her friend in puzzlement. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes were harsh when he turned them toward her. "Wrong? I heard the two of you, lethallan."

"So?" she challenged. "Why is that making you angry?"

"You've been flirting with him," he hissed.

"I… I have not."

"I know what your flirting looks like," he whispered angrily. "And you've been throwing yourself at him since the moment we found you."

Illyria sighed. "It's not flirting, really. It's… remembering."

His brow furrowed. "Whatever you call it, I know what I heard. You called him 'emma lath'. He may not know what it means, but I do."

She cursed herself in the back of her mind for her absentmindedness around Alistair. It had slipped out again without her realizing it.

"Is this some sort of infatuation you have with him? Or with the other Alistair?" he pressed on.

She gave him a scathing look. "Infatuation? Don't be condescending."

"What, then? What is he to you?"

She hesitated. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because you're not telling me!" he said, his voice anguished. "You've never kept anything from me before, but I see the way you look at him."

Illyria looked him in the eye. "You can't tell him, okay? Promise me you won't tell him."

"Why would I tell?" She glared at him, and he held up his hands. "Yes, okay, I promise. Now, tell me the truth."

She unclasped the leather cord from around her neck and took the silverite ring from it. She showed it to Tamlen. "On my world, he's my husband."

He took the ring and stared at it. "You're married… to a shemlen?" he cried in disbelief.

"Quiet!" she hissed, glancing at Alistair's tent. "Keep your voice down!"

"You married one of them?" His voice was lower, but not by much.

"Is that so terrible?" she said indignantly.

"Yes, lethallan, of course it is! They murdered our parents!"

She let out an exasperated breath. "He wasn't one of them. He didn't murder our parents."

"It doesn't matter! They're all the same in the end!" he exclaimed.

"You've been traveling with him for this long and you still think that about him?" she asked sadly. "He's a good man."

"But a human all the same," he spat in disgust. "Did you find me so repulsive that you ran to the first shemlen you came across?"

"Now you're being insulting. To all of us, including yourself."

"That's because I am insulted. I can't believe you would be capable of this. You disgust me." As he spoke the last sentence, he threw her ring into the woods.

Immediately, Illyria grabbed a piece of wood from the fire to act as a torch and ran after the ring, searching the ground where she thought it landed. The thick grass and darkness made it difficult for her to see beyond the upper layer of growth, and she pushed the branches and leaves this way and that to try to see around them.

She had been looking for some time when she heard hesitant footsteps come up from behind her.

"I'm sorry, lethallan."

She did not pause in her search to look at him. "Don't be sorry. Be looking. Then you can be sorry."

They searched the area where he had thrown it, looking for hours for the tiny, delicate ring. Alistair woke before they had located it, and watched them curiously while he began making breakfast. It was nearly time when they usually packed up to leave when Tamlen finally reached into an outcropping of prickly grass and pulled out the ring. Illyria snatched it from him and seriously considered slapping him, but instead turned back to the campfire without a word.

"Illyria," Tamlen called after her, "I'm sorry."

Alistair frowned, offering her a plate of overcooked quail eggs and potatoes. "Everything all right?"

"Fine," she replied tersely, taking the plate from him. He watched her as she threaded the ring back onto the leather cord and replaced it at her neck.

Tamlen came back to the camp a moment later and silently accepted a plate from Alistair. The templar looked from one sullen elf to the other and sighed. "Oh, this should be a load of laughs," he muttered.

The next two days went by with few words passed between the companions. Traveling was easier now, as the rocky hills had flattened to rolling grasslands. The darkspawn attacks were fewer as well, and the Wardens were able to relax a little from their state of constant awareness. It was with much relief that they finally entered the coastal town of Jader.

Armed men stood at the gate and lined the town walls, but they only gave a short nod to the Wardens as they entered. It was late afternoon, but few people walked the streets, and those who were out hurried to reach their destinations. Merchants packed up their shops early, not wanting to be caught outside at twilight. The town was eerily quiet, as if the walls themselves were afraid any small sound would attract the darkspawn horde.

"You think we could get rooms at the inn?" Alistair asked hopefully. "I could really use a bed right about now."

Illyria gave a tired smile. "We'll book passage with a ship for tomorrow first. We might have enough for the inn afterward."

There were few ships at the docks now. One of the remaining captains informed them that the larger ships had left the port altogether for fear of the Blight, and had gone on to Antiva or Rivain. The smaller ships could not handle the storms of the Amaranthine Ocean, and did their best to stay on the west side of the Waking Sea, but could only go short distances. He would take them as far as Val Chevin.

Passage on the ship was inexpensive, as few travelers and even fewer merchants went through Jader now. The same was true of the inn, and Alistair was nearly giddy at the prospect of sleeping indoors. They ordered big bowls of fish stew in the tavern, and though it was little better than Alistair's lamb stew, the food was filling and warm. Bellies full, they stumbled up to their rooms, eager for sleep.

Illyria dropped her pack by the side of the bed, and immediately set about the tedious task of taking off her armor. She stretched and flexed, enjoying the lightness that came with shedding all that metal. She began a fire in the hearth and sat beside it, waiting for the room to warm up.

A knock came at the door then. She opened it and found Alistair waiting there. He had taken off his armor as well, and was dressed in a blue tunic and leather trousers. Illyria always thought he looked resplendent in his armor, but found she liked him best during those rare times when he wore normal clothes – when he was no longer a warrior, but just Alistair.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said. "Is this a bad time?"

Illyria shook her head and stepped aside to let him in. "No, just waiting for the room to get warm. Is something wrong?"

"No, I… uh, was actually wondering if you were all right," he said awkwardly.

"Me?" she said in surprise. "I'm fine, Alistair."

"I was just worried, because you and Tamlen had that fight, so…" He trailed off.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I hope we didn't wake you," she apologized.

"Not at all. I was surprised to see the two of you up and looking for… whatever it was. A ring?"

She went to the window and gazed at the stars shining over the darkened town. "Thank you for worrying, Alistair, but we'll be fine. You don't get to be friends for as long as Tamlen and I have been without a fair share of squabbles."

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad. That you two will be fine, I mean. The two of you seem really close. It'd be a shame to lose a relationship like that."

She nodded. "We've been through a lot together. He's like a brother to me."

"A brother?" he repeated curiously. "I was under the impression it was something… different."

Illyria gave a small smile. "No, it's not like that between him and me."

"Oh, I see." He appeared strangely pleased.

"Are you okay?" she asked, noticing he did not seem eager to leave.

"Me?" it was his turn to say. "Sure, why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed like you had something on your mind."

Alistair paced, searching for words. "I… well, you asked that night whether I wanted to talk about Duncan and the others… and I wasn't sure how to tell you I'm ready now." He paused to look up at her, then began pacing again. "Nobody's asked before… but I'm sure I'm bothering you. You probably want to go to bed. I'll just…" He turned for the door.

Illyria crossed the room in a few quick strides. She placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him. "It's fine, Alistair. You're not bothering me," she said reassuringly. "Come, sit. I don't mind staying up to talk for a while."

She took him by the hand and led him to a desk chair beside the bed. "You can start with Duncan. Tell me about Duncan." She sat cross-legged atop the bed and smiled at him encouragingly.

So Alistair talked and Illyria listened. She had heard most of it before, of course, but listened as if hearing it for the first time. He told her about how Duncan would check on him from time to time during his templar training, and how Duncan saved him from his eventual misery at the Chantry by conscripting him. He talked about Eamon and how, even though he was forced to sleep in the stables as a child, Eamon would look in on him each night to make sure he was comfortable and warm. He laughed about the last time he saw Teagan before being sent to the Chantry for templar training as a child. Teagan and Alistair had been tossing a ball around outside after the heavy rains, and came back inside covered in mud. Together, they ran through the halls of Redcliffe Castle, tracking mud into every corridor, making Lady Isolde furious. And he spoke solemnly about Connor – how the first time he saw him, the boy was just a small baby in Eamon's arms. The second time he saw Connor, he was possessed by a demon. Alistair had always thought of Connor as what he might have been in different circumstances, with a proud father and a doting mother.

"It's such a waste," he said with an anguished look on his face. "All of it, a waste of potential, of life. I try to understand why the Maker took them like this, but it doesn't make sense."

"Death never makes sense, Alistair," Illyria said sadly.

"Well, it should," he muttered. "It should make sense. Death should have a purpose. Otherwise, what was the point?"

"What's important is how you remember them. How they touched your life and the lives of others." She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "And now you've told me. And now I'll remember them too."

"Thank you, Illyria," he said softly. "Thank you so much for listening to me."

She gave him a small smile. "You can come to me anytime. You don't have to carry your burdens alone."

His own smile was small and tinged with sadness. "It means a lot to me. Truly." He got up and turned towards the door. "Sleep well, Illyria."

"Good night, emma lath."

Alistair stopped in the doorway and looked at her with fondness. "One day, you'll tell me what that means." And he left, closing the door behind him.