On the Road

They set a steady pace, heading west towards Redcliffe. At first they kept to the Imperial Highway, but despite the convenience that afforded, Alessa quickly decided it would be unwise to travel so openly. Her bold message for Loghain was unlikely to deter him from sending more soldiers to seek them out, and their party was hardly inconspicuous. Any merchant or refugee they met on the Highway would mark their passing, and it would not be difficult to infer their destination. Alistair concurred with her reasoning, and so they set off cross-country, taking a roughly parallel course to the Highway.

By necessity, this slowed their progress somewhat, but it served its purpose; they saw no other travellers that might later remember them.

To their surprise, they encountered no darkspawn, either. By late afternoon, the walk was becoming dull, and Alessa grew restless, almost wishing for an attack simply to break the monotony.

Apparently she was not alone in her desire for some excitement. Breaking the silence she'd held since they left Lothering, Morrigan abruptly asked, "So I take it you did not enjoy your templar training?"

I take it back, Alessa thought, groaning inwardly. Monotony is good.

Alistair scowled at her. "That's directed at me, I take it?"

Morrigan smiled sweetly. "Do you see any others about who have failed at their religious instruction?"

Alessa opened her mouth to scold the mage, and then thought better of it. Alistair and Morrigan were going to have to learn to settle their differences, and her interference would only hamper that.

Alistair sighed heavily. "I didn't fail. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens."

"And if you had not been recruited?" Morrigan asked. "What would have happened, instead?"

"I would have turned into a drooling lunatic," Alistair said in a bored monotone, "slaughtered the Grand Cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes, I guess."

Alessa failed dismally to smother a snort of laughter at that image, and Alistair gave her an impish grin.

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Your self-awareness does you credit."

"I thought you'd like that," Alistair commented dryly, his grin fading as suddenly as it had appeared.

Morrigan seemed about to add something further, but Leliana suddenly piped up. "I'm wondering, Morrigan – do you believe in the Maker?"

"Certainly not!" Morrigan replied scathingly. "I've no primitive fear of the moon, such that I must place my faith in tales so that I may sleep at night."

Alessa rolled her eyes. Was she going to have these two bickering now, as well?

"But this can't all be an accident," Leliana ploughed on serenely, undeterred by Morrigan's scorn. "Spirits, magic, all these wondrous things around us both dark and light. You know these things exist."

"The fact of their existence does not presuppose an intelligent design by some absentee father-figure," Morrigan replied irritably.

"So it is all random, then?" Leliana raised her eyebrows. "A happy coincidence that we are all here?"

Morrigan sighed. "Attempting to impose order over chaos is futile," she said with the exaggerated patience of one trying to explain something obvious to a fool. "Nature is, by its very nature, chaotic."

"I don't believe that," Leliana said firmly. "I believe we have a purpose. All of us."

"Yours, apparently, being to bother me," Morrigan said in an annoyed tone.

Alistair snorted in amusement, and then turned it into a cough as he caught Alessa's frown. Leliana subsided into hurt silence, and Morrigan pointedly ignored Alessa's glare, lapsing into silence herself.

There was little in the way of idle conversation after that.

As the sun approached the horizon, they were lucky enough to come upon a good-sized glade in the woods, with plenty of room for their tents, and a stream nearby. Alessa called a halt, and they set up camp. For a while there was a great bustle of activity, with everyone taking a share of the work. Alessa fetched firewood and began building up a fire while Alistair and Sten set up the tents. Leliana slipped into the woods with her bow in search of small game, with Dane eagerly following at her heels. Morrigan refused point-blank to share a tent, and started building her own odd little wooden shelter out of fallen branches and leaves at the very edge of the clearing. Alessa frowned at that, but she could hardly force the woman to sleep under canvas if she didn't wish to. She did task the apostate with fetching water, however, which Morrigan did, albeit with very bad grace.

Alistair volunteered to take the first watch, but Alessa knew he had to be just as exhausted as she was. She proposed Leliana for the duty instead, justifying the choice by saying that, of all of them, Leliana had probably slept most recently. Although true, it wasn't her only reason; she wasn't sure she entirely trusted Morrigan to watch over the group, and – at least until she knew him better – trusting all their lives to Sten was definitely out of the question.

Leliana readily agreed, and Alistair insisted that she should wake him for the second watch, to allow Alessa to sleep as long as possible. Too weary to argue, Alessa nodded.

She sat down a short distance from the now blazing camp fire to rest for a moment, and stretched out her aching legs. She had always been fit – all the hours of training her swordplay had seen to that – but the walk from Lothering, coming so soon after their long trek through the Korcari Wilds from Flemeth's hut, had worked muscles Alessa hadn't known she had.

She yawned suddenly, and gave Alistair a rueful grin when he smiled over at her. Yawning again, she lay back and rested her head in her hands, looking up at the darkening sky. She really was tired.

I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, and then I'll be fine.

oOo

With no sensation of time passing, she became aware of an image flashing before her eyes. She was flying over a great chasm. Far below her, a river of fire wound slowly past, and closer to her, a massive stone bridge stretched across the chasm, with tiny figures moving on it. A scream pierced her, seeming to travel out from inside, and it was not a human sound. The sound overwhelmed her, and a bright white light flashed before her eyes, blinding her momentarily.

When it passed, the scene had changed; she was looking up instead of down, at the same bridge or another, she couldn't tell, and on the bridge, stretching out its enormous wings and shrieking – a sound that Alessa could barely hear, and yet somehow felt she should comprehend – was a dragon.

As she reeled from the shock of that, another piled in on top; she was surrounded by darkspawn. Appalled, she tried to move, to run, but she seemed rooted to the spot.

Another flash of white, and the dragon loomed in close, but not because it had moved; suddenly, she seemed to be suspended in mid-air next to it, seeing it close up as it screamed and breathed fire. No, not just seeing – she could feel the heat from its scorching breath. It seemed enraged, full of dark fury that its shrieks didn't even begin to express. It turned its head towards her and opened its mouth again, ready to spew its flames, and Alessa knew she would be engulfed.

She awoke with a gasp, sweating and shivering. Putting her hand to her head, she sat up, dislodging the blanket that someone had tucked around her; the experience had left her shaken, and she hugged her knees tight to her body, trying to regain some measure of calm. Dane stirred beside her and made a snuffling sound, but didn't wake.

"Bad dreams, huh?" a soft voice spoke, and she looked up to see Alistair sitting across the fire from her, regarding her with sympathy. She glanced around, but saw no-one else; it was dark, and from the nearest of the two tents, she heard a soft, delicate snore that could only be Leliana.

How long had she slept? Through the entirety of Leliana's watch, at the very least.

"You could say that," she responded quietly, trying to control the shakiness in her voice. She shuddered. "It seemed so real..."

"Well, it is real," Alistair said. "Sort of." He looked into the fire. "You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was – hearing them." He looked back at her, and she could see a trace of uneasiness in his eyes. "The archdemon, it... talks... to the horde – and we feel it, just as they do." He swallowed. "That's why we know this is really a Blight."

Alessa looked at him a moment in stunned silence, trying to process what he'd told her. "The archdemon?" she whispered, finally. "That was the dragon, right?"

"I don't know if it's really a dragon," Alistair said, "but it sure looks like one. But yes – that's the archdemon." He paused for a moment. "It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out – although you can never block them completely during a Blight." He hesitated, studying her, and added, "Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can't." He shook his head. "Anyhow, when I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you." He sounded suddenly unbearably sad, as if he'd have given anything not to have to be telling her, but then his tone lightened a little as he added, "It was scary at first for me too."

Alessa nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Alistair. Really. I appreciate it."

He grinned suddenly, banishing the sadness from his eyes. "That's what I'm here for! To deliver unpleasant news, and witty one-liners."

Alessa stared into the fire for a moment, and said quietly, "I'm glad you're here. I... I don't know if I could cope with all this if it was just me."

Alistair cleared his throat, and she looked at him. He was looking away from her; he seemed uncomfortable. "Well, I'm glad I'm here, too," he joked, but his levity seemed forced. He shrugged. "We have to look out for each other, right? Now that it's just the two of us." He glanced at the tents, and then his gaze flicked towards Morrigan's makeshift shelter. "Well, I mean, not just the two of us, of course, but..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"I know what you mean," Alessa said softly. "We're the Grey Wardens, not them. It's our responsibility."

"Yes..." he mumbled, looking down at his feet. "That's what I meant." He took a breath, and looked up at her. "You should go back to sleep. I've got this watch covered, and I'm not tired anyway."

Alessa shivered, thinking of the dream that wasn't entirely a dream. "I... don't think I could sleep any more tonight." She shivered again. "I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again."

Alistair nodded in understanding. "Well, eat something at least." He gestured towards a pot sitting next to the fire. "Leliana made some kind of stew; probably best you don't ask what's in it." He grimaced. "And it's likely cold by now. It's perfectly edible, though," he assured her with a wink as she took the lid off the pot and eyed the contents dubiously.

Despite Alistair's less than hearty recommendation, Alessa's stomach growled; she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. Sighing, she spooned some of the stew into a bowl, and fell to eating it. To her surprise, it was far tastier than she'd expected. She wolfed it down, and then refilled the bowl.

After she'd finished the stew, Alessa sat in thought for a moment, then she looked across at Alistair. "Can we talk? About the Grey Wardens? I feel like there's so much I don't know."

He nodded, then glanced around at the tents again. "Let's not wake the others with our talking," he murmured, and, gesturing for Alessa to follow him, he walked away from the fire and stopped at the far edge of the clearing from Morrigan's lean-to.

"So," he said, "what do you want to know about the Grey Wardens? I doubt I know much more than you, but I'll tell you what I can."

Alessa thought for a moment. "I guess... what I really want to know is, what now? I mean, are we absolutely certain that it's just two of us? Could there be others that weren't at Ostagar? Is there somewhere they would rally?"

Alistair shook his head sadly. "I knew every Grey Warden in Ferelden. There weren't that many of us, after all." He sighed heavily. "They were all at Ostagar... all in the battle, with Duncan." He was quiet for a moment, and Alessa didn't push him. "I imagine that, eventually, the Grey Wardens outside of Ferelden will wonder what's happened," Alistair said finally. "Why there's no contact from Duncan, or someone. I suppose they'll send someone eventually." His eyes narrowed, and he added with a trace of bitterness, "Though who knows what Loghain's people in Denerim will tell them." He shook his head despondently. "Or maybe they won't send anyone," he said bleakly. "Maybe they'll just write Ferelden off, and concentrate on preparing to fight the Blight in their own lands."

Alessa frowned. Was that possible? Would Grey Wardens in other lands simply leave them to their fate? She tried to consider how things might appear to those outside Ferelden. With no word from the Ferelden Wardens, would it really be so unreasonable for them assume that the Blight ran unchecked here?

"Shouldn't we try to contact them, then?" she asked urgently. "Let them know they're needed here?"

Alistair shook his head. "That would mean leaving Ferelden. There's plenty of Grey Wardens in Orlais, but I'm not sure where they might be found – and the nearest Orlesian city is weeks away. Or we could go north, and across the sea – there's bound to be some in the Free Marches. Again, however, I just don't know where. And even if we did manage to find them, they couldn't come back with us in time to stop the Blight." He shrugged. "So that means, whatever happens, it's up to us."

"Isn't there a headquarters somewhere?" Alessa asked.

"Here in Ferelden, there's our compound in Denerim, at the palace – but that's it. Loghain will have control over that, and be watching it, no doubt." He sighed. "Beyond that, the only place I know of is Weisshaupt Fortress. That's the headquarters of all Grey Wardens, in the Anderfels, a thousand miles from here. But I've no idea how to even contact them."

"Can we recruit other Wardens? Start rebuilding the order?" Alessa asked. It seemed a daunting prospect – but no more so than carrying on alone did.

"I guess, in the future," Alistair nodded. "I mean, eventually we would need to use the Joining to make more Grey Wardens, right?" He smiled sadly. "But I don't know how to do the Joining – or what's involved. I know it involves lyrium," he added, "and some other magic, and that it's really difficult to prepare, but.." He shrugged apologetically. "That's it. Unless we can find out more about the Joining, I guess we'd better get used to the idea that there's only the two of us, for now."

Alessa nodded, deep in thought. Talk of the Joining had sparked a curiosity in her. "So, how did you become a Grey Warden?"

"Same way you did," grinned Alistair. "You drink some blood, you choke on it and pass out. You haven't forgotten already, have you?"

"Ha ha, very funny," said Alessa sardonically.

His grin broadened. "I do my best." He chuckled. "What can I say?"

Alessa crossed her arms and waited.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Let's see, I was in the Chantry before. I trained for many years to become a templar, in fact. That's where I learnt most of my skills."

Alessa nodded. "Yes, you told me that before." She grinned. "Although I find it hard to imagine you fitting in there; you really don't seem the religious type."

Alistair laughed. "You're telling me! I was banished to the kitchen to scour the pots more times than I can count. And that's a lot – I can count pretty high." He turned more serious, frowning at some memory. "It's odd, though – the Grand Cleric didn't want to let me go. Duncan was forced to conscript me, actually, and was she ever furious when he did. I thought she was going to have us both arrested."

"Why didn't the Grand Cleric want you to be a Warden?"

"I wondered that myself," Alistair confessed. "It's not as if she valued me highly," he added, with a trace of bitterness. "I think she just didn't want to give anything to the Grey Wardens, is all." He grinned wryly. "The Chantry didn't lose much, and I think I can do more good fighting the Blight than sitting in a temple somewhere." His expression became introspective. "I'll always be thankful to Duncan for recruiting me." His face fell. "If it hadn't been for him, you know... I would never..." He swallowed. "I wouldn't have..."

Instinctively Alessa reached out to touch his arm. "I'm sorry, Alistair. I didn't think... I shouldn't have brought the subject up." She let her hand fall, and met his eyes steadily. "He was a good man."

Alistair nodded slightly. "He was." He blinked, and Alessa pretended not to notice the moonlight glinting on his unshed tears. "A good man who didn't deserve his fate. That much I'm sure of." There was an edge of steel in his voice at the end, and Alessa wasn't sure it was an improvement.

Alistair fell silent and stared off into the woods. Alessa watched him for a moment, wondering if she ought to leave him to his thoughts. But she couldn't be sure when she would next get the chance to talk to him privately, and there was one more thing she wanted to know. "Can I ask you something?" she said tentatively.

He looked at her warily. "Ask away."

"You said that Arl Eamon raised you?" she ventured, taking a chance. He hadn't said anything of the sort, of course – only that he'd been raised in Castle Redcliffe. But that, combined with the odd familiarity with which he spoke of the arl...

"Did I say that?" he said uncomfortably, his voice a little higher than usual, and Alessa knew she'd hit close to the mark. "I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs, from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact." He smiled uneasily.

"Oh?" Alessa said, her tone gently mocking him. "Giant dogs. Right. And they came all the way from the Anderfels just to raise you?"

"Well, they were flying dogs, you see," Alistair invented wildly. "Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians, to boot."

"Uh-huh," Alessa nodded. "Giant, flying, devout dogs."

He smiled nervously. "Or did I dream all of that? Funny, the dreams you'll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground, isn't it?" He forced a chuckle. "Are you having strange dreams?"

"Like, say, an archdemon trying to engulf me in flames, you mean?" Alessa countered, a little more irritably than she'd intended.

"Hmm, point taken," he said sheepishly. He took a deep breath. "Let's see, how do I explain this? I'm a bastard," he said in a rush, "and before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind," he added belligerently.

I wasn't going to make any smart comments. Alessa opened her mouth to speak her protest aloud, but Alistair was already continuing with his story. Having started, he seemed eager to get the telling of it over.

"My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle, who died when I was very young," he was saying. "Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow. Put a roof over my head. He was good to me." He smiled slightly, remembering, and Alessa was touched by the fondness in his voice. "And he didn't have to be. I respect the man, and I don't blame him any more for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

"But you blamed him then?"

"I was young, and resentful, and not very pious," Alistair admitted. "Of course I blamed him. I remember screaming at him like a little child." He paused in thought, and added, "Well, I was a child, so I doubt he was surprised." He took a breath, and continued, "Arl Eamon had married a young woman from Orlais. Which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king, because it was so soon after the war. But... he loved her." He sighed. "Anyhow," he carried on, "the new arlessa resented the rumours which pegged me as his bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed. The arl didn't care," he shrugged, "but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well," he added, with an indifference he clearly didn't feel. "The arlessa had made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me."

"Oh, Alistair," she breathed, appalled by the woman's callousness. "That's an awful thing to do to a child."

"Maybe," Alistair said with a slight shrug. "She felt threatened by my presence – I can see that now. I can't say I blame her. She wondered if the rumours were true herself, I bet."

Alessa shook her head, knowing she would never be so understanding in Alistair's place. The man must have a truly kind heart, to forgive something like that.

"I remember, I had an amulet," Alistair mused, almost to himself, "with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall, and it shattered." A dark cloud of regret settled on his brow. "Stupid, stupid thing to do." He paused for a moment in thought. "The arl came by the monastery a few times, to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there, and blamed him for everything. And eventually, he just... stopped coming."

"Are you sure he isn't your father?" Alessa asked, wondering why the arl would take such an interest in someone who wasn't his blood.

"Yes, I'm quite sure," Alistair replied firmly. "And I wasn't raised as the arl's son, if you're picturing that. I slept in hay out in the stables, not on silk sheets. At any rate, I don't look anything like him. You'll see that for yourself. Not that it stopped the rumours, any." He sighed. "All I know is that the arl is a good man, and well loved by the people. He also was King Cailan's uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. Anyway," he concluded, "that's really all there is to the story." He looked away, and Alessa sensed that he'd shared all he was going to, for the moment at least.

"Thank you," she said, quietly.

He looked at her in surprise. "For what?"

Alessa shrugged. "For trusting me with your life story. I know I had no right to ask, really; it's not as if we've known each other long—"

"It's fine," he interrupted, looking suddenly uncomfortable. He glanced up at the sky. "It's nearly dawn," he commented offhandedly.

Alessa followed his gaze, startled. "Already?" He wasn't mistaken; the sky was definitely getting lighter. She gaped at Alistair. "Maker's breath, how long was I asleep?"

He grinned at her, and the awkwardness vanished. "Well, you dozed off before it got dark, and it's almost day now, so..." She groaned, and he chuckled.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she scowled. "I was supposed to take the third watch." She frowned at him. "Did you stand two watches? You needed your sleep too."

He shrugged. "I slept earlier, and I wasn't tired." He smiled fondly at her. "And you looked so peaceful, lying there. Well, until you started dreaming, anyway. I didn't have the heart to wake you." He grinned. "We actually debated moving the tent around you, but I thought someone might trample on you in the process. Probably me."

Alessa chuckled, and then sighed, remembering that she was trying to make a point. He made it very hard to be angry at him. "That's very sweet, Alistair... but please, don't do it again." She smiled to take the sting out of her words. "While I appreciate the thought, remember that we're a team. It does me no good to be alert and rested if you're asleep on your feet." She gave him a friendly nudge. "Who's going to protect my flank then?"

He nodded sheepishly, and returned the smile. "You're right, of course." He grinned. "But don't worry, I'll keep a close eye on your flank." She arched her eyebrows at that, and he reddened. "Uh... that didn't come out right."

She chuckled. "See? You need more sleep!"

He rolled his eyes, still smiling. "All right, fine, you win. No more all night watches for Alistair."

"Good." She sighed, her good mood fading as swiftly as it had come. "Because I think we're both going to need all our wits about us if we're to deal with the darkspawn and stay one step ahead of Loghain."

He nodded sombrely. "I suppose we are, at that."

They were quiet for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts, until a movement from the camp caught their attention. Sten was emerging from the second tent.

Alistair leaned towards Alessa, and said in a low, conspiratorial, voice, "You know, sharing a tent with him, I was actually kind of glad to be on watch."

Alessa grinned. "Not a great conversationalist, I'm betting."

He chuckled. "I'll say!" He sighed. "I trust your judgement, you know that. But... I don't know if I'm comfortable having him around."

"Give him a chance, Alistair. He's only been with us for a few hours."

"Yes, I know." He took a breath, and exhaled it slowly. "Well, since he's up I suppose we should make a start on packing up the camp."

Alessa nodded, and they strolled back towards the camp fire. Dane raised his head at their approach and barked eagerly before Alessa could shush him. At least that would probably save her the trouble of waking anyone else, Alessa mused. Sure enough, moments later Leliana poked her head out of the tent, and smiled at Alessa. "Good morning," she called out cheerfully, and then ducked back inside.

Alessa glanced round the camp. Alistair was collecting the pots from last night, while Sten was silently taking down the second tent. Leliana was presumably dressing, which left only Morrigan. She started towards the apostate's shelter.

"Argh!" Alistair suddenly yelped from behind her. Startled, Alessa whirled, expecting some kind of attack. Instead Alistair was backing away from a growling Dane, nursing his arm. "Why you little..."

"What happened?" Alessa demanded.

"Your furry friend here took offence at me getting near his food. He snapped at me, look!" Alistair held his hand out for inspection – he'd taken his gauntlets off to collect the dishes, and there were indeed teeth marks on it, oozing traces of blood. It was hardly the life-threatening injury she'd expected from Alistair's yelp, though.

"It's barely a scratch," she said calmly. "He was just warning you – you've seen what he can do when he's serious." Alistair pouted slightly, and she added, "Still, he shouldn't have." She frowned at the mabari. "That wasn't nice, Dane. You're not to bite Alistair. Save it for the darkspawn."

Dane whined apologetically and hung his head.

Alistair looked a little sheepish himself. "Sometimes I forget that he's a war dog. That'll teach me."

"Yes, it will," Alessa agreed. Alistair looked at her in surprise, and she chuckled. After a moment, he laughed with her, and Dane joined in with a friendly bark.

Morrigan chose that moment to stroll into the clearing from the woods. Alessa looked round, feeling slightly relieved that she wasn't going to have to wake her after all. "Ah, you're up."

Morrigan sniffed disdainfully. "I have been awake for some time. Some herbs are best collected at night." She patted a small pouch at her side. "'Twill save you coin on poultices if I can supplement our supplies."

"That was very thoughtful of you, Morrigan," Alessa said, feeling a little guilty at the surprise she felt. "Thank you."

The apostate shrugged carelessly. "Twas nothing." She looked round. "Are you not yet ready to leave? I thought Alistair was eager to reach Redcliffe." She centred her gaze on the former templar. "Although why you feel such concern for the man who cast you out as a child is a mystery to me."

Alistair's face darkened in sudden fury. "You... you were listening? That was a private conversation, you—"

Alessa caught his arm to get his attention and shook her head, before he could say something to make matters worse, and he broke off, spluttering.

Morrigan gave him a thin smile. "Voices carry at night, and you were not so quiet as you believed." She narrowed her eyes. "You would do well to remember that in future, lest you draw predators or other enemies into our midst."

Muttering darkly under his breath, Alistair collected up the pots and bowls and headed towards the stream, glaring at Morrigan as he passed her.

Alessa frowned at Morrigan, but said nothing. If she could be sure the woman had been deliberately eavesdropping... but she had no way to know that, and she could hardly chastise the apostate for something she might have accidentally overheard.

She sighed, wondering if Morrigan was going to prove to be more trouble than she was worth. Perhaps she should try harder to engage the apostate in conversation; if she could get to know Morrigan better, even befriend her, maybe the woman's acrimony would mellow. But, thus far, Morrigan had rebuffed all such attempts.

oOo

It took longer than Alessa would have hoped, but eventually they had everything packed away and were once more on their way westward.

As they walked, Alessa glanced at Morrigan, and was struck by the way the apostate seemed to walk apart from the rest of the group. Feeling a little guilty, Alessa headed towards other woman, but before she could say anything, Morrigan sensed her approach and cast a haughty look in her direction before deliberately quickening her pace to draw further ahead.

Stung, Alessa turned her attention forward with a sigh.

A moment later, she became aware of Leliana drawing close. "It is a shame," the redhead remarked softly, nodding towards Morrigan. "She is lonely, but she does not know how to let anyone in."

Alessa looked at the redhead, surprised by the apparent empathy in her voice; she would not have thought the two women in any way similar. Leliana beamed at her. "You should persevere, I think. Everyone needs someone to talk to, whether they know it or not."

Alessa couldn't help a small smile coming to her face; Leliana's good mood was infectious. "Does that include you?"

Leliana chuckled. "Me? Oh, I love to talk! What would you like to talk about?"

Alessa looked at the other woman thoughtfully for a moment. So many questions came to mind about the redhead's past, but where to start? "Well, I must admit I'm curious about this vision of yours."

Leliana nodded, smiling a little ruefully. "I knew this would come up sooner or later." She sighed. "I don't know how to explain... but I had a dream. In it, there was an impenetrable darkness... it was so dense, so real. And there was a noise, a terrible, ungodly noise. I stood on the peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything. And when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I... I fell. And the darkness drew me in." She hesitated, looking expectantly at Alessa.

"Go on," Alessa said neutrally. It sounded like just a regular dream to her, but then – hadn't she just had a dream that was more than it seemed, herself?

"When I woke," Leliana said, "I went to the chantry's gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rose bush in the corner had flowered." Seeing Alessa's sceptical expression, she hurriedly added, "Everyone knew that bush was dead! It was grey, and twisted, and gnarled... the ugliest thing you ever saw. But there it was – a single, beautiful rose. It was as though the Maker stretched out his hand to say, 'Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.'"

"And this made you want to help me?" Alessa asked in puzzlement. Somehow, given Leliana's conviction, she'd expected the 'vision' to be something a little less... vague.

"In my dream, I fell," Leliana said, trying to explain, "or... maybe I jumped." She looked at Alessa earnestly. "I'd do anything to stop the Blight. I know that we can do it. There are so many good things in the Maker's world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours everything?"

Alessa nodded. That at least she could understand. "I suppose... I couldn't sit by either," she said.

Leliana nodded and smiled. "That is why you are a Grey Warden."

Alessa smiled back, but her smile faded a moment later when Alistair stopped abruptly, holding up a hand for them to halt. "Darkspawn," he murmured as Alessa moved to his side. "Close." He made a vague gesture to the left of their path.

Alessa looked in the direction he indicated, seeing and hearing nothing unusual. A momentary frustration at being unable to feel whatever he was sensing overtook her. Just how long would it take for the whole darkspawn-detection thing to kick in, anyway? Shaking her head, she quickly shed her pack and drew her weapons, following Alistair's example.

Moments later they all heard the sounds of several large creatures crashing through the trees. Two genlocks burst out of the woods to their left, snarling and grunting. They were closely followed by a pair of hurlocks.

Thanks to Alistair's warning, everyone was ready for the attack. Alistair and Alessa leapt to meet the genlocks, while Sten intercepted one of the hurlocks. The remaining hurlock tried to flank Alessa, but before it could raise its weapon, it became rooted to the spot, apparently shaking in terror. Alessa spared a quick glance to the side, to see Morrigan smirking in satisfaction. She nodded to the apostate, who was already preparing another spell, and turned her full attention to the genlock in front of her.

Alistair had knocked his opponent down with a fierce bash of his shield, and as Alessa ducked under the attacking genlock's wild swing and rolled neatly to her feet behind it, she saw his sword plunging into the creature's heart. She kicked hard at the back of the genlock's knee before it could turn to follow her, leaving it off-balance, and then thrust her own blade into its back. Alistair spun, his sword whirling, and sliced deeply into the genlock's throat. Dark blood sprayed out, and it fell to the ground, gurgling and twitching in its death throes.

As one, they turned towards the hurlock Morrigan had incapacitated, but it had already been felled; Alessa noted an arrow sprouting from its throat, and another squarely between its eyes. She chuckled quietly to herself; 'a fair shot' apparently didn't tell the half of it.

Sten gave a mighty roar behind them, and Alessa whirled just in time to see him impale the remaining hurlock with his sword. He pulled the weapon free, and then threw it aside with a look of disgust. "This is a child's blade." Alessa raised her eyebrows as he bent down and freed the hurlock's big two-handed blade from its dead fingers and held it up, assessing it. The weapon was ugly; the blade was made of a dull, dark material and its edges were jagged, appearing almost like wicked teeth all along it. It looked heavy, but Sten lifted it as if it weighed nothing. He nodded once. "This will do."

The battle was over, and they had hardly broken a sweat. Alessa glanced round at her companions, looking for injuries, but saw none. She smiled grimly at Alistair, feeling jubilant at their easy victory, and relieved that the addition of Leliana and Sten to their party had, after all, proved to be a sound choice.

There were no further interruptions, and at length Castle Redcliffe and its surrounding village came into view.

As they neared Redcliffe, Alessa noticed that Alistair seemed to grow increasingly anxious. Finally he stopped, and turned to her. "Look," he said, "can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something. I... ah... should probably have told you earlier." His face was a mask of apprehension, and he was fidgeting with his gauntlets.

Alessa turned to the others. "Wait here for us." She nodded to Alistair and followed him as he led her away from their companions. He didn't stop until they were well out of earshot.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she guessed.

He looked down at his feet. "I... don't know. I doubt it." He looked up and met her eyes; his were anxious. "I've never liked it, that's for sure."

"Alistair, what is it?" Alessa asked, his disquiet rubbing off on her. She'd never seen him this anxious.

He swallowed. "I told you last night how Arl Eamon raised me, that my mother was a serving girl at the castle and he took me in?" He made it sound like a question, so she nodded. "The reason he did that," he continued, "was because... well..." He was speaking slowly now, as if each word was being dragged out against his will. "Because... my father... was King Maric."

Alessa gaped at him for a moment in disbelief, too shocked to say anything.

"Which made Cailan my... well... half-brother, I suppose," he finished lamely, avoiding meeting her eyes.

"You... you're Maric's..." Alessa trailed off, her mind reeling. Emotions warred within her, and anger won. "You don't think you might have told me this before?"

Alistair winced, and she suddenly had the feeling that her reaction was exactly what he'd been expecting... and dreading. "How?" he asked. "When would I say that? 'Ooh! By the way, King Maric had sex with a servant and she produced a bastard son. That's me!'" He shrugged helplessly, his eyes full of sadness and shame. "I would have told you, but... it never really meant anything to me." His voice took on a bitter note. "I was inconvenient – apossible threat to Cailan's rule, and so they kept me secret." He shook his head and stared off into space. "I'd 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." He clenched his fists, then slowly unclenched them and met her eyes again. "I didn't want you to know as long as possible." He paused, and his eyes pleaded with her for something, but she wasn't sure what. "I'm sorry," he added quietly.

"I suppose I understand," she said slowly, and he looked relieved. She shook her head. "But still, you should have told me." She felt oddly disappointed that he hadn't, after all, trusted her enough to tell her his life story – at least not the whole of it.

Her disappointment must have shown somehow, because his face fell. "You're right," he said quietly. "I should have." He clenched his jaw. "It's brought me nothing but problems, to be honest," he said bitterly. He cleared his throat. "At any rate, that's it," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I... thought you should know about it."

"So, why did you tell me?" she demanded. "If you didn't want me to know, what's changed?"

He sighed and gestured towards Redcliffe. "Because it will probably come up. I didn't want to walk into Redcliffe without you knowing the truth. That would be just... awkward."

An uneasy silence fell between them, and Alessa broke it hesitantly. "So, with Cailain gone, I suppose this makes you heir to the throne."

Alistair instantly shook his head. "No!" he said resolutely. "I have no illusions about my status. It's always been made very clear to me that I'm a commoner, and now a Grey Warden, and in no way in line for the throne. And that's fine by me," he added hastily and emphatically. "No, if there's an heir to be found, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of royal blood, but he is Cailan's uncle. And more importantly, very popular with the people." He paused in thought, his expression growing troubled. "Though... if he's really as sick as we've heard..." He looked down in distress. "Oh, no, I don't want to think about that." He glanced upwards for the briefest of moments, as if offering up a silent prayer. "I really don't," he said quietly. He took a breath, and said, more loudly, "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."

Alessa stared at him in shock. "That's not really what you think, is it?"

"No, I suppose not." He looked past her, staring at nothing. "I don't feel very lucky at all, to be honest," he said bleakly, and suddenly spun round, walking away from her, back towards the others.

"Alistair!" she called after him, "Alistair, that's not..." He didn't break his stride; either he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear, or simply choosing not to. "...what I meant," she finished quietly, somehow needing to say the words even though he couldn't hear them. "I never thought you were a nobody."

A/N: Thank you once again to everyone who is reading this story, especially those who have reviewed, alerted or favourited it. You make it all worthwhile. And a special thanks to Abydos Jackson, who helped me immensely with this chapter.