AN: I've noticed that while most of Alistair's chapters are focused on Quyne, I actually gave her a few character building ones. This is not only to flesh her out but there's another reason that should come clear in a couple of more chapters. I'm curious to see if anyone picks up on why ;)

Disclaimer: Quote by Paul Tournier and some dialogue by Bioware.

"Acceptance of one's life has nothing to do with resignation; it does not mean running away from the struggle. On the contrary, it means accepting it as it comes, with all the handicaps of heredity, of suffering, of psychological complexes and injustices."

The Maker was seemingly omnipresent in Denerim, ever the focus of discussion within the Alienage itself. Many had lost their belief in anything altogether, whether it be the Maker or the old gods of their forefathers. Why believe in something that had the power to change such suffering, and yet did nothing to their plight? She had been fortunate in her youth to be chosen, alongside Nola, as a tribute to be blessed at the Chantry and work with the lay sister who frequented her home. Sister Fiola had been a kind woman, had taught her her letters and reading. She had taught her to contemplate the morality of her choices.

Taught her that the Maker was kind and gentle and forgiving.

She had found Sister Fiola face down in the alley leading into the Alienage, an occurrence that led to an uprising in the Alienage and the death of her mother. They had never found out what had happened, but she remembered the raised voices of the Hahren, her uncles and father in the night while she clutched her mother's thin pillow and curled closer to her cousins in the bed. They spoke something of a group of soldiers who worked under the Arl of Denerim, and a thousand questions ran through her mind though Soris tried to quell his kin's fears as best he could. From that night forward, she had clung to her family and friends, clung to those in the Alienage in the fear that another uprising could occur, that the men might return for more of those she loved.

And she swore that the Maker was a lie.

She turned her back on the teachings she had received, focused on her position in the Palace District, focused on her mother's lessons late into the night. And, though it had been years now, the words still flowed easily from her lips,

"And together they searched ever deeper, until they found their prize, their god, their betrayer."

A shiver ran down her spine as they wandered through the dimly lit hall, her eyes searching for the surprise of another apparition. Up ahead, the light grew and she heard sighs from behind her.

"I will be glad to see the end of this, cara. The call of a warm fire grows stronger the more I follow your lovely behind."

Quyne fought back a smirk at Zevran's attempt to lighten the mood. While it was true that the air was frigid, and she could barely feel her toes, she knew that Leliana needed the cloak more than she did and that Oghren was keeping himself warm with that flask of his. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, and tried to pull herself together. There was a strange feeling, a feeling that grew stranger the further they progressed. She had doubted the man at the entrance, convinced it was all smoke and mirrors, the ravings of a man driven mad by the mountain. And yet, the feeling was not of despair or of a lost cause; it closely resembled the feeling of being hugged by a parent, an evenness to her surroundings, a feeling of serenity. Such a feeling set her teeth on edge.

"Do you hear that?"

Leliana stepped in front and cautioned her to stop. Looking up at the taller woman, she was about to comment when a sleepy tune drifted past. A humming, a sound so familiar that she felt her heart stop.

Hey

As the smiling face turned her way, Quyne let out the breath she was unaware she'd been holding. She blinked several times, trying to find reason in the situation, "Shianni?"

Who else?

There was very little chance that her cousin stood before her, but her heart refused to believe that it was anything but real.

It's good to see you, I suppose. Life out there's been good to you, hasn't it? You're respected, even among humans. Do you remember us, where you came from, and what some of us still face everyday? You don't even feel much anymore when you remember it, do you? You've moved on, past the horrors of that night. I envy you…

"That's not true, Shianni. I think of it, of you and Nola, every single day," she couldn't bring herself to say his name.

When the Guardian asked, you wouldn't answer. Why? Some things are learned only when you find them for yourself. Still, you have come far. You've gone on to other things, things I can only dream of.

"Shianni, please-"

You have a great task to complete. I want you to take this. I think you should have it. Seeing you now gives me hope…for all of us. Find peace in the happiness you've found, cousin.

There is so little left in the world.

And, as sudden as a lightning across the sky, she was gone. Quyne could feel a cool dampness on her cheeks, and the warmth of an arm around her waist. She heard Zevran whisper things foreign to her ear, and she found herself nodding along dumbly. Weight in her palm distracted her from her reverie, and she looked down at an amulet, it's chain wound through her fingers. As she played with the trinket, she could have sworn she saw Shianni's gaze twinkling up at her, her ever-present smirk bringing her great comfort. When she regained her composure, she flashed Zev a grateful smile and slipped the chain over her head, tucking it into her chest plate. The feeling of cool metal against her breast seemed to feed her fresh energy, and she moved forward through the temple with a new vigour.

When they reached a sunlit hall, and climbed the stairs to the altar, the same feeling of serenity that had haunted her throughout the trials reached a peak and she decided to welcome the embrace. As she fingered the inscription on the urn, and held a part of Andraste in her hands, she realized that she didn't have to see evidence to believe in something. To have blind faith, to have hope when things seem lost, to believe that some almighty power could carry you through when you wish to stop, was the Maker's greatest gift. That he is present in all the world, permeating the very beings of its inhabitants and filling them with a sense that some one will still love them, no matter their faults, no matter their discretions.

While He had taken her mother, and so many others from her life, He had given her a second chance with the Wardens, given her great friends, a best friend in Zevran. He had given her Alistair, who was quickly becoming a part of the soul she was never sure she'd had.

"Those fanatics must be getting antsy, dear one. Perhaps we should go and break their hearts a little?"

Quyne smiled brightly up at her friend, who returned a smirk of his own. "I think that's a great idea, Zev."