The Dragon Age series belongs to Electronic Arts and Bioware.

Boredom gripped Rhyann for the two days after arriving to Denerim. Her days were spent under a pile of furs, struggling to keep warm in an estate that she could finally admit to hating. She felt trapped, much like she did for the months that she had spent in the dungeons just below the floors. As much reassuring as her father did in the limited time they had spent together that her fears were in the past, she still felt that she would see Vaughan Urien or Rendon Howe round the corner with the intention of harming her. She couldn't even look forward to Soris' playful ribbing. Currently, he was away in Highever. Cyrion called it official business loosely, but Rhyann had heard from several of the servants that they believed he had become enamored with a woman from there and was attempting to woo her.

Once or twice, when she felt like braving the elements, Rhyann wandered down to the market district. Solona was spending her days there as well, studying under the owner of the apothecary. While her healing magic was not what she wanted it to be, she wished to supplement this with the knowledge of poultice-making. From what the shop owner said, she was good at it, too.

These petty distractions did nothing for Rhyann, though. Worry sat in the pit of her stomach, paranoid that any day, she would receive word that Lyna or Alistair had been assassinated. Honestly, she couldn't think of which scared her more. To add to this fear, she felt completely helpless to do anything about it. Leliana had promised that they would call on her if she was needed. But, that hadn't happened.

So, in her anxiety, Rhyann took matters into her own hands.

On the third day, just after dawn, Rhyann stole out into Denerim and towards the palace. She would conduct her own investigation, humored the elf. On her way, she thought herself a great spy, one who could find the juicy details on anyone. It was a silly fantasy, one that held no truth whatsoever. Still, elves hand a penchant for gossip, so she didn't doubt that she could coerce some information out of some of the help with a few coins and a play off of their similar heritage.

Today, the guards let her in, no trouble. They were the same two posted out front the day they had arrived and remembered her face. Though, there weren't many elves around Deneri m of her age and with white hair already. Or, someone important had told them that she was allowed to visit. Rhyann wasn't really sure, nor was she about to ask.

Inside, Rhyann ran into no one except the guards manning the door in front of the throne room. They too let her in with little questioning. This was where she intended her investigation to begin, but this, sadly, was short lived.

Before she made it down the hall and into one of the chambers that she suspected to contain something to aid in her search, she was apprehended. Whoever it was grabbed her from behind, detaining her by the shoulders. Panicked, the elf struggled in vain to free herself as her mind worked out a clever lie to tell when whomever it was asked why she was poking around the palace.

However, this was unnecessary. Swiftly, the individual twirled her around, giving her a slight dizzy spell before she saw Jarak—Sophie's twin standing before her. His face was set in a crooked smile, telling her that he had planned on giving her a fright the whole time. She cast him a look of displeasure, which he shrugged off with a playful eye roll.

"You're one of Lyna's, right? Rhyann? I don't think we've ever really spoken before." However mischievous he had been previously, it didn't show now.

"No, we haven't." Admitted the young woman. She saw no need on reiterating the fact that she was actually a Warden. He knew this. "Are you here to see your sister?"

Jarak's face contorted in a way that said he had no idea that Sophie had been in Denerim. He didn't dwell, however. There was something else he had stopped her for. "Actually, I came here to visit Alistair and managed to convince him to shirk off work for a while to play a few hands of Wicked Grace. However, it's just not fun with only two people. I was hoping to get Wynne to join in, but when I explained the situation, she scolded me for being a bad influence on Alistair." Rhyann could tell by the way he slumped, such was a phrase he was used to hearing. "So, would you like to be our third?"

Any plans on investigating the palace were forgotten at the offer. Really, she was terrible at all of this cloak and dagger stuff and jumped at the opportunity to indulge in something else. Especially something that involved Alistair. Nodding twice, the elf responded. "That sounds like fun."

"Okay, good." Jarak began heading down the hallway and towards the study. "Because I wasn't going to give you an option anyway."

Alistair was waiting in the study when they arrived. He was examining the cards with great focus, though based on the messy pile on the desk, he had attempted to try a rather difficult shuffling technique and failed at it. There was a bottle of some indiscriminate liquor on the desk as well, with two glasses. The one situated in front of Alistair was mostly full, whilst the one in the spot Rhyann assumed Jarak had occupied was empty. The writing on the bottle was in a foreign language she didn't recognize.

Once the door closed behind them, Alistair looked up, curiosity and terror on his face in equal doses before he noticed the newcomers to be friends. His expression settled. "For a second, I thought you to be Anora." He breathed out, relieved. "If she found me playing cards with you, she would surely have my head."

Jarak scoffed, taking his seat in a fluid motion. He batted not a single eyelash at the mess his friend had made with the deck and begun to routinely shuffle them back into a neat pile. "She already has your balls in a vice. Why not your head too?"

Alistair tensed at the jest.

Rhyann fidgeted awkwardly in the doorway. There didn't seem to be another chair for her to sit, and both of them hadn't seemed to notice. Alistair was still reeling from the comment about his wife, and Jarak was very concerned with his cards. It wasn't until she cleared her throat that the both of them looked up and noticed the situation.

"Maker's breath!" Cursed Alistair. "I'm sorry, Rhyann. I didn't realize we didn't have another chair." The man maintained extended eye contact with her, the sort that was meant to convey a message he didn't want Jarak to hear. She understood, however. He had missed her in her absence and was happy that she was there now. "Let me see if we have a box or something you can sit on."

While Alistair was busy looking for something to serve as a makeshift chair, Jarak leaned back, grinning wolfishly at the girl as he patted his knee with a wink. "She can always sit in my lap, Al. There's plenty of room there."

Rhyann was hardly given a chance to voice her dislike of this idea. Alistair stood up, back rigid. Frustration for the other man spelled out for all to see. He was upset with the remark, perhaps even jealous. Doing his best to stem himself, the man took a breath, but his honeyed eyes were still sharp as ever. "I hardly think that's appropriate, Jarak." Alistair bit off his words harshly, a warning. However serious he may have been, it was overshadowed by the cracking of his voice and the pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Relax." Hummed Jarak, not at all fazed by his friend's demeanor. "I was only joking. There's a chest on the far wall that will probably serve as ample enough seating, by the way."

After several uncomfortable moments of Alistair moving the chest into a position around the desk and refusing to meet the eyes of the other two, they were ready to start playing. Jarak explained the rules of the game while they waited. Rhyann knew how to play already, but didn't have it in her to tell him that she was familiar with the game already. And, for all she knew, they played different in Highever. Shortly after, the cards were dealt and they began their first hand.

Alistair was taking his time contemplating his first action while Jarak poured himself a drink. He made a motion to offer the girl a drink, to which she politely declined with a shake of her head. "Has Alistair ever told you the story of how we met?" Asked Jarak, setting down the bottle with a gentle thump.

"I heard you went through the Joining together."

"Duncan had come to Highever to recruit one of our guardsmen. He had brought Alistair with, namely as he had just recruited him. At the time, however, Father was hosting a grand tourney in honor of Fergus' name day and extended an invitation out to Duncan and Alistair to join in on the festivities. I was a part of the festivities as well, serving as champion to my family and participating in hand-to-hand combat with the other challengers. Duncan became quickly interested in me and asked my father if I would be interested in joining the Wardens." There was a bite to Jarak's words. There was something difficult and painful in this memory for him. Rhyann had to assume it was his parents.

"Father was reluctant. My brother had already agreed to lead a battalion of troops to scout the Wilds on behalf of the Blight and didn't wish to sacrifice another child to the cause. He wanted me to stay in Highever and study politics in the event that something happened to Fergus out there. Ultimately, though, he left the opinion up to me. So, I made him an offer: if Alistair bested me in combat, I would join. If not, I wouldn't. I'm sure you can guess what happened."

"As I recall," Added Alistair, "you threw the match. Something about 'being sick of living in Fergus' shadow'."

Jarak innocently looked to the side as if to dispute Alistair's claim. "Onto my point. After that, we've been close ever since."

"That was a nice story, Jarak." Admitted Rhyann. It was her turn now, to which she took with utmost care. She couldn't help but feel as though the tale was meant to deter attention from the game, which she had been focusing keenly on this entire time. Alistair was easy to read. He was terrible and keeping a blank face, making it easy to tell when he either thought he had the upper hand or wasn't doing so well. Jarak, however, was blank. His roguish tendencies showed. Rhyann regarded him very carefully as she took her turn.

Jarak's turn came, accompanied by Alistair taking a drink from his glass, which resulted in a grimace. "This is terrible!" He exclaimed, putting his glass down without care that some of the contents spilled over onto his hand. "Where did you get this from?"

"The Anderfels." Jarak motioned for Alistair to take his turn. "I spent some time there a couple months back. And, before you ask how it was, it was awful. The Anders—as a generalization—are just as bleak and inhospitable as you would assume based on how their country is."

"Well, their whiskey tastes of despair." Gurgled Alistair, ending his turn.

"The ham tastes of despair." Corrected Jarak, eyes focused on Rhyann's hand like a hawk. "The whiskey tastes like…oh, I forget what the merchant said. My Ander is broken at best, so I mainly just nodded and handed him some coin when I was ready to make my purchase."

Jarak glanced over his cards once. He looked up at Rhyann, golden eyes dancing over her once before he set them down as if to forfeit. "I do believe the Lady Tabris wins this round." He mimed a respectful bow from his chair. Rhyann embarrassingly smiled in response, following his action of setting the cards upon the desk.

"How about another round?"

Nearly half an hour transpired of the three playing cards. Jarak made idle chit chat most of the time, though refused to take his gaze from Rhyann. Though the elf wasn't positive, she was sure that he saw her as his true adversary while the played. And, she could understand why. Between the three of them, she and Jarak were consistently winning while Alistair was tailing behind them both. He seemed to not mind, however. The man was content in enjoying some time with friends.

After another hand that Rhyann had won, Jarak began shuffling the cards once more. He was smiling as he shook his head, mulling over something lost on the other two. "You're lucky we're not playing for money, or…or taking off an article of clothing for each loss." Said Jarak to Alistair, grinning mirthfully. "If we were, either you'd be taking the both of us for a tour of the treasury, or would be sitting here without even your small clothes to conceal your…ahem…modesty."

Alistair pinkened at the prospect of the second scenario. "I don't think that would be very favorable," he squeaked, "given our current company." His tone suddenly shifted from awkward embarrassment to something different. "Besides, you've been cheating."

"I have been cheating, but you would have still lost." To demonstrate his point, Jarak pulled several cards from his sleeve. Rhyann had to applaud his quick fingers; she hadn't noticed him switching in more favorable cards for the ones in his hand. Either Alistair had a very good set of eyes, or he was accustomed to playing under such conditions. "And, I'm assuming that by 'our current company' you mean my company."

Jarak's last statement silenced the room. Rhyann fumbled with the cards still in her hand nervously, eyes trained on the highly polished wood of the desk. She couldn't bare to look up at either of them and potentially confirm something that was most likely meant as a joke. The silence continued on, only the sounds of bodies shuffling against their seats greeted them.

"I didn't realize it was a secret." Croaked Jarak uncomfortably, followed by a curse under his breath and a swig straight from the bottle. "Sophie told me about it in a letter; she wasn't quite sure herself, but after I saw how jealous you got when I offered to let Rhyann sit in my lap, I came to the conclusion that there must be some truth to it."

Rhyann was mortified. She buried her head in the desk in an attempt to shut the world out. No matter how discreet she thought the two of them were being in regards to their affections for one another, someone always seemed to find out. The girl let out a muffled cry of discomposure in sheer melodrama. Meanwhile, Alistair fidgeted, trying his best to remain composed while the elf flopped around on the desk. He hadn't done much better, however. The man was practically sweating bullets as he attempted to look busy as to avoid further lines of questioning.

"I take it Anora doesn't know, then."

Both Rhyann and Alistair shook their heads, though the girl's was accompanied by a rough rolling noise, seeing as her face was currently implanted in the wooden surface. In order to comfort her, Alistair gently placed his hand to her back. His touch, however simple it was, left her skin feeling electric and warm. The comfort this gesture brought her made it easier for her to pull her head from the desk and meet them head-on.

"I've been looking into a way to make this work." Alistair was pleading with Jarak. Every syllable was wrought with the anxieties of a desperate man looking for a way out of a bad situation. Rhyann got the feeling that she only knew of a small fraction of the hardships that this secret entailed for him. "I would rather Anora not find out until I've found a solution."

Jarak pantomimed buttoning his lips, a promise that their secret was safe with him. The visibly-tense Alistair relaxed in his seat upon seeing this motion. He trusted Jarak, this was clear. And, if Alistair could trust him after everything they had been through together, Rhyann knew that he must be a man of his word. "Maker knows I can't stand the woman; I wouldn't dream of telling her." Stretching, Jarak saw a way out of the conversation. He stood up from his chair, arching his back in order to make the joints pop with an audible sound, and grabbed for his bottle of whiskey. A winning smile crossed his face before he headed towards the door.

"I should probably get going now. My steward is probably going insane in his search for me and is probably turning the palace upside-down in his pursuit."

Not two minutes went by after Jarak's exit did Rhyann look up at Alistair. He was chewing his lips, eyes glassy as he focused on the door with extreme focus. No doubt, he was still worried about Jarak having found out about them. The elf didn't dare mention Leliana and Lyna having put the pieces together as well. His mood would only dampen further.

"Are you really looking into a way for this to work?" Asked Rhyann. She didn't doubt he was, but she wanted to hear him confirm it. They got so little time together and whatever correspondence they sent via letters had to remain stark and unfeeling. It was difficult to explore strange, new feelings for someone while continuing on a charade of being nothing more than friends. So, she wanted it. No, she needed him to tell her that he was invested in this terrible, wonderful secret that had engulfed the both of them and was looking for a way to make it truly real.

"Of course I am!" Alistair almost sounded hurt. To ease his own discomfort in what he probably perceived as an accusation, he cupped her cheek tenderly in his hand. "I had thought of asking Anora if it would be okay to move you into the palace as my…my…mistress, but realized that it still wouldn't be fair to you." He was fumbling over his words in a way that Rhyann found to be oddly endearing. Just from his tone, the elf could deduce that he had truly put much thought into his consideration. "Whatever solution I find, I want it to be one that doesn't include more secrets. All of this hiding around makes me feel like I might vomit if someone were to catch us."

Alistair wasn't an eloquent man, but he got his point across well enough for Rhyann. He didn't need to weave beautiful words out of nothing, nor did he need to be something he wasn't. What he was—sweet and a little awkward—that was enough for the girl. She couldn't help the goofy grin at his closing statement, even if he meant it in all seriousness. "I don't want you to be my secret any more either." Hummed the elf in agreement.

Fluidly, Rhyann rose up from the chest and rounded the desk so she was positioned in front of him. Alistair looked at her with confusion until she placed one hand on his shoulder and the other to his cheek and leaned in for a chaste kiss. His lips were as sweet and delicate as she remembered. They were so sweet, in fact, that she went to steal another.

The door to the study opened with a shock. Rhyann jumped back nearly two feet, her hands quickly smoothing over her head as Alistair feigned being occupied with the cards. In walked Jarak, his usual light nature substituted for something far more grim.

"Rhyann, you need to come. Quick. Sophie needs you for something and says it's highly time-sensitive."