Leliana

I paced outside Salem's tent, my wish to be with her nearly overriding the mage's orders. Wynne will take care of her. All I will serve as is a distraction, which neither of them need.

"Hello, Leliana." Alistair called to me from the fire, where he stood arguing with the straps of his armor. "Fancy giving a friend a hand?"

Something. Anything to distract me from my thoughts. I walked over and assisted him with the leather and buckles. "Are you just getting back?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes. I tried visiting Goldana again. She still wants nothing to do with me. It's horrible really. I find a blood relative who isn't a king and they want nothing to do with me; only want to talk about how much I owe them. I've got nephews..."

"They'll all be dukes of Ferelden someday." I tried to comfort him with a smile. "Goldana will come around, Alistair. I'm certain she's missed having family in her life."

"Do you really think so?" the insecure future king asked, looking very much like a lost puppy.

"I do." I told him the truth. "I know how very much I still miss my mother, though I scarcely remember her."

"I thought we were family now." he patted me on the shoulder. "Which reminds me, how did you fare in Denerim? With Marjorie...Margarine..."

"Marjolaine." my face fell. "She is...no longer a worry in my life."

"Oh." his awkwardness took over and he looked at the ground, kicking at it with his boot. "I'm...sorry."

I cannot say it is all right. It is not. The wound is still too fresh. Wounds, I glanced back at the tent. Salem...please be all right.

"Do not concern yourself with my problems." I told him. "The last thing I need is more of you carrying my burdens."

He glanced up at the comment, sensing something behind it, but unsure if he should press the issue. His mouth opened when a blood-curdling scream filled the air, coming from Salem's tent."

"Was that..." Alistair questioned, looking past me. "Did I hear..."

Another cry rent the night, answering his question. Salem! My heart screamed, but I could not go to her.

"Salem?" Alistair asked, taking a step forward. "Salem!"

He started for the tent and I stopped him. "No, Alistair. No."

"What?" his eyes were wild. "What are you saying? Are you deaf? That was Salem screaming!"

"I know. But she'll be all right, Alistair. Wynne is with her; she will be all right!"

Alistair tried to shove past me and I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to restrain him. "What do you mean, she'll be all right?" he yelled. "Andraste's ass, Leliana!?" he shook me, rough. "What in hell happened!?"

"She was injured." my tongue tripped over the words. "When we confronted Marjolaine, she was injured. But Wynne is with her, and she is going to heal. I promise you."

Maker, please, hear my prayer. I know Wynne is a strong healer, but even magic cannot fix everything. Be with them...with all of us.

"What?" his voice was fire. "Injured? How badly is she hurt, Leliana?"

I removed my hands from his shoulders, closed my eyes, and hid my face, biting my lip. He shook me again; pain shot through my head. "It's," tears stung at my eyes, "it isn't good, Alistair."

"How bad is not good?" his hand took my chin and forced my eyes to his.

Another scream echoed from Salem's tent and my tears spilled over. "She's been stabbed." I told him. "The blade was poisoned."

"And you say she'll be all right!?" he demanded, incredulous. "Let me past, Leliana. I need to see her! I have to see her!"

"No." my words were steel. "There is nothing you can do! There is nothing I can do! Do you think if I had a choice I would be anywhere but at her side right now?"

Alistair stopped, ill-at-ease with a woman's tears, but still bitter. "This is your fault." he said. "All of it. You came in here and tore her away from our mission. You charmed her with all your songs and your wiles and your...your...shoes."

What on earth...dear Maker, he's run out of words. "Alistair..."

"No, no...nooooo." he shook his finger in my face. I had slit a man's throat for less insolence. "This...her...it's you, Leliana. You hurt her. And you let her get hurt. Your bloody madcap quest for this Margarine person..."

"Marjolaine." I corrected, harsh. "And don't you think I know all of that, Alistair? Don't you think I know it should have been me with Marjolaine's knife impaled in my body?"

"Oh, Maker. Impaled?" he became despondent once again. "Salem!" he cried, shoving past me and moving towards Salem's tent. I fell, landing hard on my elbow.

"Alistair!" I shouted. "Come back here!" I scanned the camp, looking for help.

Sten was patrolling the border, Oghren had passed out with a flask in his hand, Wynne was with Salem, Zevran had not returned, and Morrigan was still out on her errand.

"Alistair!" I yelled again.

The warden did not heed me. I clawed my way to my feet and began to go after him when he stumbled back, yelling waving his arms in the air, frantic. He plowed into me and I crashed to the ground again, cataloguing the number of bruises I would have when I removed my clothes.

"Bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat, bat!" Alistair shrieked, fending off his assailant with wild, frenetic blows.

A mixture of exhaustion, grief, and the random hilarity of the situation made me laugh. I sat there, hurting as I laughed until I started sobbing, watching as the bat harried Alistair, flying around his face, darting into his hair.

"Get it off!" he shouted, falling to his knees. "Get! It! Off!"

A flash ignited the night and a saucy voice drifted through the blinding light. "And now you know how the songstress feels. Harried and attacked with no purpose."

"M...Morrigan?" Alistair stammered. "I thought...I thought we talked about swooping."

"You talked." she brushed dust from her robes. "I refused to listen."

"Back off, apostate." he snarled.

"And what good would that do your warden sister?" Morrigan asked, defending Salem and I in a surprising turn of events. "With your hovering and your worry and the excessive chewing of the nails? It is fact that Salem would prefer to have the songstress by her side, yet she is out here, being senselessly bullied by you, because it is necessary. Have I made myself clear?"

Alistair refused to answer her, kicking the earth and stalking off towards the stream.

Morrigan extended her hand to me for the second time that night. "Are you quite well, songstress?"

"For now." I replied grateful and confused. "What he said..."

"If there was a grain if truth in what that ingrate said, then save it to ponder another time. I could use your aid in distilling an antidote. I'm quite rusty on my work with poisons."

Of course. Salem.

"By all means." I followed the witch to her own small campsite, safely away from Alistair and his rage, but not far enough away to escape the cries of pain from Salem's tent.