Disclaimer: Bioware and EA own Dragon Age. I own...hm, I'll have to get back to you on that.

A/N: Holy, finally able to update. O.O So, this story was at the request of Sharem. She invented Jenna and the theme. Anyone wishing to have a particular character pairing or theme need only PM me! ;D


Greetings my lovely Warden!

I felt that I had to write you when I heard this particular little tidbit of information. It would appear that a strange man is causing quite a stir in Kirkwall. He frequents the same tavern every night, and goes off on drunken tangents. Normally such information would be worthless to you, however here is where the story gets interesting: while he is known as the village drunk, he is also a bit of a hero since he has no qualms about fighting darkspawn. He claims that he used to do it for a living. Take what you will from this note, but I think we both know who this drunken wastrel is.

Yours,

Zevran

Jenna tucked the letter back into the pouch on her hip and tightened her hold on the pack on her back. Several people were staring at her as she walked through the city gates. She imagined that they either recognized her as the 'hero of Ferelden', or they looked upon her with disdain because she was an elf. Her hound nuzzled her side as a sign of reassurance.

"Thanks Fen. If it's him, I doubt he'll be overjoyed to see me," Jenna murmured.

She wandered over to a merchant selling his wares out of a small wagon.

"That armour's quite fancy for an elf," he baldly pointed out.

One corner of Jenna's mouth curled up into an acerbic grin. "I know a guy in Denerim. I had it custom made from Dragonbone. I think it pays proper homage to my clan's usual armour style."

The merchant grunted as a sign of approval. "So what's the Hero doing in a piddling place like this?"

She tossed a Sovereign his way. "I'm looking for a friend. Probably drunk most of the time, claims to be…"

"A Grey Warden?" the merchant finished for her.

"That would be him," Jenna replied.

The merchant pocketed the Sovereign and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "He's usually at the local pub, drowning his sorrows. You're actually one of his favourite things to harp about."

"That comes as no surprise…" Jenna grumbled. She thanked the merchant and headed toward the pub, but not before procuring a cloak to better conceal her identity. She hoped that if he was as intoxicated as the merchant had said, his ability to sense her would be significantly dampened. She pulled the cowl over her head and opened the door to Kirkwall's most popular drinking establishment.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

"I tol' you, I slew hun'reds of those buggers. Their blood was like a secon' skin ta me. An' what thanks do I get? Cast aside by that…that…backstabbing…" No one was paying attention to him, as usual. They never did. All they cared about was the bloody Hero of Ferelden. The one who cut his heart right out of his chest. He took another long pull of his drink when suddenly another ale filled mug sloshed in front of him. He glanced up at the bar wench, confusion filling his bleary eyes.

"Patron over there thought you might want a drink," she said by way of explanation.

Alistair glanced over his shoulder and saw the hooded figure leaning over his mug of ale. "Well, that was right nice of 'im."

The wench rolled her eyes. "He also offered to pay for a night here at the pub. Said you bein' a Grey Warden an' all, that you deserve it."

Alistair raised his mug to the hooded man. "Thanks, mate! Now I don' hafta sleep out on the cold ground tonight!" He let out a belch and started in on his tankard.

Several drinks later, Alistair was quite literally falling down drunk. The bar wench heaved a sigh, not relishing the thought of dragging the big lug to his temporary bed chambers.

"I'll do it," came a husky voice from over her shoulder. She turned and recognized the cloaked figure from earlier. From the man's build, the barmaid could only assume that he was an elf, and probably not much more able than she to haul the drunkard's arse upstairs.

"I dunno, luv. I mean, I'm sure you're a right strong man and all, but this bloke's pretty…" her words trailed off as the figure removed his…no, her hood. "Blimey!" the barmaid whispered reverently. "Pardon my manners…I didn't know that you was…well, you."

Jenna shot the barmaid a half smile. "Don't worry about it. Here, I'm just a regular patron looking to lend a helping hand." She leaned down and wrapped the drunk's arm over her shoulders. She then bent at her knees and hooked her free arm beneath the man's thighs. Defying anything the barmaid had ever seen, the Hero was able to lift the large man up into her arms. With a bit of shifting, the bloke was hanging over one of her shoulders.

"Maker's breath!" the wench gasped. She rushed up the stairs ahead of Jenna and held the drunk's bedchambers open for her. Jenna nodded her thanks and unceremoniously dumped the big guy onto the bed. She was breathing heavily, but still managed a crooked smile for the barmaid.

"Thanks for the help, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that I'm here," Jenna tossed a bag of silver to the wench, who caught it easily.

"I ain't ever saw ya," the wench replied.

Jenna's grin was genuine and she ducked into Alistair's room. She felt a tug at her heart in seeing what he'd let himself become. His hair was long and greasy, even knotted in some places. A patchy beard covered his face, and his skin, once kissed golden by the sun, had become sallow and splotchy. She stripped off his linen tunic, which was covered in old vomit stains. She decided it would probably be best to burn his clothes. He was in far worse shape than she'd anticipated, and she knew she'd need help if she were to help him to recover.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

"I need your help, Sister," Jenna said to the apparition in front of her.

The surly elf folded her arms over her chest. "Why should I help this worthless shem? He made the decision to waste his life-"

"Velanna, please, I'm begging you…" Jenna tugged nervously at her short braided hair. "This human was once my world. I can't just leave him like this…"

"Why not ask the other healer, the dirty one that can't keep his twig in his robes?" Velanna asked caustically.

Jenna sighed. "You know it would take too long for me to venture all the way back to Amaranthine, get him, and then come back here. At least with our ability to speak within dreams, it makes things significantly easier…"

"Another reason why we Dalish are far superior to flat ears and shemlen," Velanna snorted. "Shems can only consciously speak to other shems in dreams, and even then they have to be mages. We can communicate regardless of our special abilities."

Jenna chuckled softly. "I thought you were starting to like humans. You've been running off saving their villages…"

"Oh alright," Velanna cut her off. "Here is a recipe for your helpless friend. The ingredients are not difficult to come by. Have him drink the potion and the poison will be out of his system. He will not suffer withdrawal from the drink he's been imbibing nightly." She handed Jenna a scrap of parchment.

Jenna looked over the directions, a frown etched upon her features. "Do I have to memorize it? Obviously I won't have this once I wake up."

Velanna smirked knowingly before a mist began to surround her. Within seconds she vanished.

When Jenna's eyes opened, she realized almost immediately that she was holding the same parchment that Velanna had given her. She smiled to herself briefly before hazarding a glance in Alistair's direction. She'd been worried that Alistair would have woken; it was difficult to gauge the passage of time in dreams. Luckily he continued to snore, and by the look of the darkness outside of his window, she had plenty of time to gather the ingredients necessary for his potion.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

Alistair groaned and covered his eyes from the morning light with his forearm. His head was pounding, his mouth was dry and had a horrible taste to it. How much had he had to drink last night? He'd lost count after fifteen. He sat up and a wave of dizziness assailed him. The pounding in his head intensified. He was just about to throw up on the floor beside him when he heard a knock at the door. "What?" he croaked out.

"Just the barmaid, luv, makin' sure to see to yer needs…that is to say not those kindsa needs, but…cor! Just be lettin' me in!"

Alistair grumbled under his breath and wrapped the sheet he'd been sleeping in around his hips. He wandered over to the door and held it open. He seemed to recall a woman resembling the one standing in front of him tending bar last night. He raised an eyebrow when her eyes widened as she gazed at his semi nude state. She swallowed nervously. "Is there something you wanted?" Alistair asked.

The barmaid shook herself. "Right. Drink this." She shoved a goblet toward his chest.

He snatched the goblet and eyed the contents. "What is it?"

"Nevermind what it is, it'll make ya feel right as rain, an' that's all that matters, aye?" the woman said with mock cheer.

"I suppose…" he replied. He shrugged a shoulder and tossed back the drink. Nothing like a bit of the hair of the dog to cure a hangover. Only…his lips smacked together and a shiver ran down his spine. He began to feel weak, and he held on to the door frame for support. "What did you give me?" he rasped.

The woman stared at him, wide-eyed. "Only what she told me to!"

"Who's she?" Alistair asked while stumbling back to his bed.

The reply came, though it sounded like the woman had spoken into a strong wind. He must have imagined it, because, Maker help him, he could have sworn he heard her say, "the Hero."

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

Alistair opened his eyes for the second time that morning, only this time he didn't suffer from any headaches or dizzy spells. In fact, he felt pretty damn good. For the first time in...he wasn't sure how long, he actually smiled. He leapt off the bed, ready to do the Remigold, but his underused muscles groaned in protest. Maybe a drink would get him…

No, a voice whispered in his head. You hate the drink…it makes you sick…

Alistair frowned. He was quite sure that he in fact loved the drink, that it didn't make him feel sick at all. But that voice was so insistent!

He shook his head and came to the abrupt realization that he was nude. He saw a pile of ashes near his bed and hoped that he hadn't set his clothes on fire in a drunken rage. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw clean clothes folded neatly at the foot of his bed. He almost pulled them on when he caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass. He looked horrible! He was about to shout down to the barmaid for a bucket to clean himself with when there was yet another knock on the door. Brow furrowed, he headed toward the door and flung it open. The barmaid was on the other side, and she let loose a tiny squeak. Her eyes were glued to his…Oh. He dove for the bed and grabbed his sheet. He re-wrapped himself and went back to the door, clearing his throat embarrassingly. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem!" she replied in a shrill sort of voice. "Now then, one o' th' other patrons thought you could use a good washin' and shavin'."

Alistair tilted his head to one side. "And who is this patron and how does he know what I need?"

The barmaid chewed nervously at her lower lip. "Same one that bought ya the room fer the night." She placed a large bowl of hot water, a towel, a razor and a bar of soap on the floor in front of his door. "There ya go! Now I best be off, lots to do!" She spun on her heel and practically fled from Alistair. Alistair picked up the items and went back into his room. Based on what he saw in the mirror he had a lot of work to do.

He began by dipping the towel into the water and lathering up the soap. He scrubbed his face, his hair, and…well his entire body. Soon the water took on a murky hue. He took up the razor and began to carefully shave at the scraggly beard he'd developed. He even managed to keep from cutting himself. He glanced over at the clean clothes he'd been left. Now he'd be able to use them without dirtying them as soon as he'd put them on. He knew that he needed a haircut, but would have to make due with tying his hair back. As he pulled on his boots and laced them, he felt a familiar tingle at the base of his skull.

"Darkspawn…" he growled. He didn't think they were very far off either. He glanced over at his armour. It was a tad dusty since he hadn't gone slaying in ages, but he knew it would still fit in a pinch. After he'd buckled himself in, he strapped his sword and shield to his back. He was set to hunt some tainted monsters, and he felt better than ever.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

Her footsteps were silent as she hunted her prey. The woods near the village were teaming with life. She'd woken that morning with the knowledge that she'd have to face Alistair very soon. She needed time to think, and springing through the woods had quite a calming effect on her. She finally caught sight of the stag she'd been tracking. She knocked her arrow and pulled back on the bowstring. She had him in her sights. She let the arrow fly, and it struck true. The stag fell to the ground. She stood and was about to claim her kill when she heard a slow clapping coming from behind her. She stiffened. She couldn't believe she'd missed the tingling sensation…and she was flabbergasted that he'd been able to sneak up on her. She turned slowly, bow clutched tightly in her hand. He was leaning against a tree, one leg crossed over the other nonchalantly. He folded his arms over his broad chest. She could feel his gaze…his scrutiny. She felt like she was being dissected, weighted and found wanting. His lips were curled into a wicked sneer.

"The Hero deigns us with her presence," Alistair said sarcastically. "To what do I owe the honour? Or were you looking to slide another blade into my back?"

Jenna inhaled sharply. She supposed she deserved his bad treatment. But she had a few things of her own to get off of her chest, and the day of reckoning had arrived. "I did not stab you in the back. I saved you."

"Oh? And how does that work? You conscript our mortal enemy instead of killing him, and then he becomes a hero and I become a laughingstock?" He spat on the ground. "You always did have a way of destroying one person while trying to save the other. Got it backwards this time, I'm afraid."

Jenna clenched her jaw at the memory of Isolde sacrificing herself for her son. Alistair had claimed to have forgiven her of the choice she'd made. Evidently he hadn't. "You abandoned me," she hissed.

He advanced on her, eyes narrowed angrily. "What in the name of the Maker are you blathering about? It was you who abandoned me."

Jenna stood her ground and stared up at him, her deep brown eyes unrelenting. "You left me to fight the archdemon alone. You said we'd always stay together. You lied."

Alistair growled and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her round and pinning her to the tree he'd been leaning against. "How dare you? You spared Loghain. He murdered Duncan…doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does…that's why I did it," she struggled against him. "I fed that disgusting shem to the archdemon. Don't you get it?" He continued to glare at her, his fingers biting into the flesh of her shoulders. "We are the Keepers of the lost lore-"

"Not this again..."

Jenna growled and shoved forward fruitlessly. "Shut up for once, you stupid blowhard! Garahel died killing the archdemon Andoral. Our ancestors investigated his death, as he was one of our own. That was when we discovered that in order to slay an archdemon, a Grey Warden must sacrifice his own life."

"What are you talking about? Duncan would have said something-"

"He probably died before he was able to say anything to us. My knowledge was confirmed after Loghain's joining. Riordan told us of the sacrifice. I knew of it beforehand, and I knew that Loghain had to be the one to-"

"I don't believe you!" Alistair ground out while pressing her firmly against the tree. The bark scraped against Jenna's exposed back. "How could you have know all of this before becoming a Warden? It doesn't make sense!"

"As I said," Jenna said through clenched teeth. "We are the Keepers of the lost lore. We guard our secrets just as well as the Wardens do."

"So that was your big plan, feed Loghain to the archdemon so he could make the sacrifice?" Alistair asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Jenna all but shouted.

"Why? Why not just kill him at the Landsmeet? Why bother with that huge charade? Riordan could have made the sacrifice," Alistair argued.

"He died in battle! He couldn't have killed the archdemon!"

"You had no way of knowing that!" he exclaimed. "It still doesn't explain you needing Loghain."

"Because if I hadn't conscripted Loghain, the only ones to do the deed would have been us! I couldn't take that risk!"

"Why not, Jenna? Why let Loghain have the glory?" Alistair asked heatedly.

"Because I didn't want you to die! Creators damn you, Alistair, I loved you and I couldn't watch you die!" Tears had sprung to Jenna's eyes. Her shoulders quaked beneath Alistair's iron grip.

Alistair stared down at Jenna. All of this time he'd wondered why she'd betrayed him, why she'd chosen to spare Loghain when she knew that he wanted the bastard dead. As her explanation sank in, he realized that her twisted logic actually made sense. If Loghain hadn't been in the battle, and if Riordan had fallen, Alistair knew without a doubt that he would never let Jenna sacrifice herself. He would have dealt the final blow.

Jenna sobbed softly. She gazed up at him, her eyes pleading. "Don't you see? I couldn't-"

Alistair released her, backing away slowly. "Why did you come here?"

"I came here to try and bring you back…"

"Back where?" he asked.

"To Amaranthine," she replied. "With the other Wardens. It's where you belong."

Alistair sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "If I decide to go…and that's a big if, then there's a lot you have to explain."

"Of course. Ask me anything," she replied.

"I can't have heard this right…but someone said that you'd recruited Rendon Howe's son?"

Jenna let loose a peal of laughter and tugged him toward the village.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

He stood over her and watched while she slept. His anger still warred with his compassion. He wasn't sure if he could forgive her so easily. She could have explained her actions before going off half cocked and assuming that he'd follow her command, no questions asked. There were limits to what he would do for…

He shook his head disdainfully. Who was he kidding? He would still rip the world in two just to please her. He should have known she had a reason to recruit Loghain, should have trusted her.

She curled onto her side, and one of her light blonde braids fell across her forehead. He'd almost forgotten how ethereal she looked bathed in the moonlight. He felt the familiar clenching of his insides, his arms ached to surround her, to fold her into his embrace.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up at him sleepily. "Alistair?"

"I'm sorry I woke you," he whispered. "I just…couldn't sleep."

She scooted over on the mattress and patted the empty spot next to her. "Hop in, I know what it's like to not be able to sleep nights."

After a brief hesitation, Alistair slid in next to her. He lay on his back with his fingers laced behind his neck. He was acutely aware of Jenna's state of undress…she wore only her smalls. He let out a deep breath and tried to focus his attention elsewhere. Soon he heard her slow and steady breathing interspersed with the occasional soft snore. He looked up at the ceiling and began counting the cracks in the wood. He had reached one hundred and seventy-five (he prided himself on being able to count pretty high) when Jenna shifted. Alistair's entire body went still as her head nuzzled against his chest and her arm curled around his abdomen. She let loose a soft, happy murmur and continued to sleep. He slowly let himself relax and with as much finesse as he could muster, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Despite the fact that he was still as confused as ever, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt content.

'*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*''*•.,.•*'

Familiarity…after all this time things felt as they should. Jenna woke with a smile on her face, not really sure why she should feel so at peace and feel…

Something very large pressed against her inner thigh. By the Creators, what happened? Oh mercy I must have rolled onto him in my sleep, and now he's just reacting the way he always did when it was first thing in the morning, and please let him still be sleeping, maybe I can just sneak out of bed without his noticing-

She realized that Alistair had stopped breathing. A surefire sign that he'd woken up at the same time and knew exactly the situation they were in. Jenna cleared her throat, "I'll just move…" and very slowly slid her leg away. The movement caused Alistair to groan, a groan that she recognised, and one that always managed to make her burn for him. She wanted to kiss him very badly, to roll on top of him and show him how much she'd missed him. But too much time had passed, too many angry words spoken, so much unsaid…

"Jenna," his voice was low and coarse. "I'm not sure what's going on in your head, but I can tell you right now that my mind is filled with all sorts of images that I really shouldn't be thinking about, and as much as I'd really like to make those images a reality, I don't think it'd be a very good idea."

"I know," she replied softly. She pulled away from him, cheeks aflame. "We'd better start packing if we're going to head out for Amaranthine before nightfall."

"Right, now that's a good idea," Alistair conceded.

Jenna stood and stretched out her limbs. She had a sneaking suspicion that their journey back to the Keep was going to be an awkward one.