A/N: Very long chapter but needed, sorry. Thanks to Mack to fighting through this one for the beta read.

*~There's something about you now
I can't quite figure out
Everything she does is beautiful
Everything she does is right ~*

- Lifehouse – You and me

Chapter 42: Epiphany

"What happened to your hand?"

Curiously, Leliana pointed at Lenya's bandaged palm while they marched toward Lake Calenhad. They had pulled up camp right after sunset to reach the Mage Tower before the sun would set. Given the quick pace their leader dictated from up front, she had no doubt about reaching that goal.

The Dalish didn't even turn around, staring right ahead at the road that was clouded in thick fog. "I cut myself. Obviously."

"Oh?" Zevran piped up. "You don't seem to be a clumsy one and are well-versed with blades otherwise, my dear Warden."

Lenya groaned, annoyed of the curiosity of her companions. "Yeah... because you know me so well, idiot."

The elf chuckled. "My, feisty again, aren't you? There are, however... ways to rectify this little detail. About getting to know you, I mean."

"Not interested."

With that, the Dalish sped her pace up even more and descended into a cloud of mist. While she hated the weather with the narrowed view today, it was welcomed at the same time. After last night, the fog made it easier to evade unwanted questions and faces. She heard the clunking of his armor, his heavy, almost clumsy human steps not far from her, but the fog was like a shrouding barrier that kept him away from her and out of her sight.

Just like she wanted it.

It was... easier to simply ignore him after all that... at least for now.

Zevran sighed over-dramatically. "Ah, rejected again. Pity." Turning to Leliana, he added with a smirk, "May I rest my head in your bosom? I wish to cry."

The bard shook her head, incredulous at that. "You are impossible, Zevran."

He grinned. "Why, thank you. I try my best." Leaning in to the woman, he lowered his voice. "You heard it too, no? Last night, the Wardens, I mean. They made quite the noise... and not in a good way."

Leliana sighed. "She obviously doesn't want to talk about it."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, my dear Sister. If I learned one thing as an assassin, it is to choose the ...let's say... weaker target first." With that, he glanced over to Alistair and smirked suggestively to Leliana, who smiled back as she caught his drift.

.

~V~

.

Due to last night, Alistair hadn't slept much and now felt the exhaustion in every bone of his body. The ambush of some bandits on the road earlier had made it only worse, and he wasn't really keen on physical exertion other than sturdily walking forward today. And with the pace his fellow Warden held up, that was hard enough already.

Lenya...

His head still swirled with the events of last night, his thoughts filled with her presence, unbidden. How she had... cried in his arms and didn't stop for what seemed to be an eternity to him. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, never so open with her emotions, particularly toward him. It was utterly... confusing, especially that he found this fact delightful in equal parts. Not that she had cried, Maker forbid, but that Lenya trusted him well enough to not hide her emotions from him any longer. It made him feel... what? Closer to her? Less like a human idiot in her eyes? Equal?

Alistair didn't know where to sort this feeling in, how to pinpoint it, but he was aware that something has changed... shifted, perhaps. Which didn't keep her from completely ignoring him today, however. A sigh escaped at this thought.

This woman is complicated...

"You are quite broody today, Alistair."

He nearly jumped at Leliana's sudden voice. "What?"

She giggled. "Being so deep in thought is unlike you, I mean."

"Well, I have my moments." He arched an eyebrow in her direction. "Wait... what do you want, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing... I'm just wondering about the loud commotion yesterday while both of you were on watch at night."

Instantly, Alistair's face fell. "Oh that. Sorry, I can't tell you."

"Why?"

Alistair shrugged and tried to appear nonchalant. "Warden things."

"Oh? So you both have your very own secrets now? That is adorable, somehow."

"Adorable is the last word I would use for the reasons I have to actually keep them secret, really. And why are you so keen about knowing it at all?" He turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Maker... are all women so confusing?"

Leliana stifled a sudden chuckle as she smirked up at him. "You are thinking about her, eh?"

It was maybe a little unfair to tease him like that, but it was the only current amusement available while marching forward in this bleak environment filled with misty air. He surely couldn't blame her for seizing upon it, right? Not to mention that she found his ever-same pattern of getting all flustered, denying and blushing, kind of cute. Somehow Leliana started to understand why Lenya gave him that nickname. He was indeed like a huge Mabari puppy. She couldn't help to giggle quietly to herself at that.

Alistair held up his hands to object quickly, yet wasn't very convincing in doing so. "I... no. No. I didn't do that. I was..." Distracted by a little voice in his mind, he trailed off.

Lousy liar...

And that he was, if he was honest. He had been thinking about Lenya. In fact, he was able to do little else since last night. Today, Alistair had intended to talk to her about what happened, and yet was too intimidated by her cold and ignoring behavior to even try, which ultimately only led to more thoughts about her. It was a maddening circle he didn't seem able to break... and an utmost confusing one on top of that.

Leliana's grin only broadened. "Oh, surely you haven't."

Alistair groaned, annoyed. "Great. Really. I love existing for your personal entertainment." Speeding up his pace to escape Leliana's amused gaze, he only hoped they would soon arrive at their destination. Simply walking gave him too much opportunity to let his mind wander, which ultimately put him back into this inescapable loop of thoughts about her.

Sighing, he heaved his head, watching the blurred figure that was leading them and somewhat regretted for once that there were no darkspawn or bandits in sight. Despite his utter exhaustion, he really would welcome some mindless slaughter now.

That was at least something Alistair was skilled with, in contrast of how to figure out what actually to say to his fellow Warden who had cried in his arms.

.

.

.

They had reached the outskirts of Lake Calenhad after endless hours of walking, though right in time, just before it had started to grow dark. Fortunately, most of the fog had lifted as well. The now clear remaining light that broke through the clouds above made it easier to set up their camp, just beyond the lake's shores. Tall as it was, the Mage Tower was already visible in the far distance, although shrouded by the remaining mist that still lingered high in the sky.

Leliana sat at the fire, her cloak huddled around herself to protect herself at least a bit from the freezing wind that howled in between their tents. Drawing her face deeper in her hood, she shivered and sought the warmth of the flames even more, while humming to herself to keep her mind distracted from the cold. The bard was aware of the presence of the Qunari who stood across from her, unmoving he observed the wide, even area with his dark eyes in tensed vigilance.

"This place is unsuited for camp."

Her head snapped up at his deep voice. "Oh? You think so?"

Sten snorted. "Obviously. Too easy for enemies to ambush us here. We should move on."

She sighed. "But it is already too late to venture to the Mage tower today, and after the long march, we need a break first. Tomorrow is another day for that, you know?"

"Petty excuses. I'm sure our enemies will spare us when you tell them that," Sten remarked dryly, and then added after a brief pause, "Why are you here, woman?"

Leliana blinked, not knowing how to react. "What do you mean?"

"Women are priests, artisans, farmers, or shopkeepers. None of them have any place in fighting."

She tilted her head to look up at him. "Do you mean your people have no female mages or warriors?"

Another snort. "Of course not. Why would our women wish to be men?"

Leliana escaped an exasperated sigh, as her brows drew low in frustration. "What are you talking about? They don't wish to be men."

His stare bore into her; his tone was as stoic as his expression. "And they shouldn't. That can only lead to frustration."

Leliana shook her head, growing more and more annoyed with his view. It was as if she was talking to a wall. "Sten... no, never mind. Let's drop this."

Another sigh mixed into the one the bard let out again. Raising her head to the noise, she recognized the figure of the Dalish appearing at the fire. "Oh, that discussion again, Sten? So I figure you expect me to not fight either? Because I'm obviously a woman as well."

"Of course not. You are a Grey Warden. It is your duty to fight the Blight."

Lenya rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I get that a lot lately."

"Parshaara. This is a waste of time." Shaking his head, the huge Qunari turned and strode away, disappearing into the grey shadows of the slowly descending night.

Momentarily confused about Lenya sitting down next to her, Leliana didn't know what to say. And so, the pause stretched on to a longer silence with her not able to break it, until the Dalish suddenly spoke.

"Thank you."

It was only two words, but never had she thought that those little words could confound and baffle her so much as they did. "W-what?" Leliana managed to stutter.

Lenya didn't look at her. Instead, she threw a stick into the fire and watched as it hissed away. "For... treating my wound... as I was unable to, I mean."

"I... you are welcome. Really. I'm glad I could help you to recover, as little my help might have been. Zevran and Morrigan are the ones you truly have to thank, I think, but we were all worried sick about you."

She sighed, her voice quiet. "I know."

Leliana attempted a smile as she looked up to the Dalish. "It is good to see that you are better now."

Impulsively, Lenya shrugged. "Not so sure about that."

"Want to talk about it?"

At that, the elf scowled and Leliana had the feeling to have said the wrong things... once again. "I... uhh... sorry. I didn't mean to pry. " Sighing, she shook her head. "Maker, you don't make it easy for one to talk with you, you know that, Lenya? I still don't know why you are always so hostile toward me. You never explained that in all the time we have traveled together." Leliana hesitated for a moment. "I have noticed that you don't like humans much... so is it because I'm a human?"

"No. Because you are crazy... and annoying." Walking over to her pack, Lenya snatched her leather vest from the ground that lay beside her blades.

"Oh, that is good to know, I guess." Leliana couldn't help to chuckle. "Care to fill me in why you think so?"

Lenya returned to the fireplace, the armor in the one and some leather straps in the other hand. She wasn't contented with the prior repairs of the vest. It still sat far too loose around her body and offered not enough protection as it now was. So the Dalish intended to reinforce the cut and repaired straps with the spare ones she'd shamelessly looted from a dead bandit today. After a brief moment of work, she looked up to the human, noticing her still waiting for an answer. Sighing, Lenya fulfilled that wish.

"You said you had a vision. That your shem god spoke to you and that is the reason you wanted to help to fight the Blight. That is... ridiculously inane, to say at least."

The bard raised an eyebrow at that. "Why, thank you. I know it sounded strange, but I don't know how to explain it otherwise. I had a dream–"

Lenya snorted derisively, interrupting her speech. "There is a difference between a vision and a mere dream, shem."

"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. But this dream was so dense, so real." Her eyes drifted to the darkened distance, lost in her memories. "I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything... and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I fell and darkness drew me in."

Lenya twisted in her seat and blinked, completely bewildered. She made no effort to hide what she thought about that human's babbling. "Okay... this is the reason you wanted to fight darkspawn? That still sounds... inane to me."

Leliana narrowed her eyes. "Why? Is it so hard to understand that I just want to help?"

"You know, I didn't wake up one day and think: wow, I want to be a Grey Warden and leave all I ever know behind for that. This is going to be sooo awesome. Well, news to you: it is not."

"Then why do you fight, Lenya?" She tilted her head and glowered down at the elf. "Why did become a Grey Warden when you hate it so much?"

"Because I would be dead otherwise!" Lenya burst out in a loud tone, her posture tense. And I will still die because I became one, her mind added, making her feel even more angry.

Standing up, she looked down on the momentarily shocked human. "You have no idea what I have seen in the Deep Roads, of what would have become of..." the Dalish halted her words, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "So I would rather be a Warden than... that. That is why I'm here, fighting the Blight because I can't change what I am anymore. Just don't expect me to love it only because you are happy following us due to an inane dream, shem." Huffing, Lenya whirled around and stormed away into the darkness.

For a moment, the bard simply stared bewildered after her, not knowing how to react to that. A loud voice obviously coming from the other side of camp shook her back to attention.

"Ouch! Why you little..." Alistair's words were accompanied by an angry growl of the Mabari, who trotted away but not without barking warningly at the Warden a final time.

"Good... I like it better when you stay over there, " he called after Arai and waited until the dog had disappeared.

"What happened, Alistair?" the bard asked, turning to him as he came closer.

"That massive furball snapped at me all the sudden. When I came to close to his food, I suppose." Showing his finger to Leliana, his tone changed into a complaining, nearly whining one. "Look, I even got hurt."

Sometimes Leliana really wondered how Alistair managed to change from a grown man into a five-year-old boy from one minute to another. Observing the fatal wound that the little, superficial scratch obviously was to him, the bard couldn't suppress a grin. "There is hardly any blood drawn, so I think you will survive."

"That is not the point you know," he answered in the same pouting tone. "He can't just go around and snap at people. Sometimes I forget that he is indeed a wardog. That will teach me." He paused, his eyes wandering to Leliana, and then to the empty place where the Dalish had been sitting, her armor vest still lying on the ground. "Wait, that is Lenya's right? She was here with you?" He couldn't hinder the crooked smile playing into his features. "Freely?"

"Well, we talked and it didn't work out that well. Obviously." Sighing, she rubbed her face with both hands. "I just don't get her, Alistair. Every time I think I can have a normal conversation with her, she just does things I simply don't understand."

Grinning, Alistair sat down next to her. "Make that two."

"Right. I mean she even thanked me for treating her wounds, but somehow it ended in yelling at me again."

"Yep. That sounds like her." He chuckled." So what made her angry... this time?"

"Talking about my vision and hence my reason to follow you both against the Blight, I suppose." With another sigh, she picked up Lenya's vest from the ground and continued the elf's prior work.

Alistair arched an eyebrow. "Well, don't get me wrong but... I don't think that talking about a vision you had from the Maker is exactly well-suited to deepen your friendship with Lenya, though."

Leliana shrugged and looked up to him. "She had asked..."

He smirked. "...and then yelled at you for it? Right."

"She had questioned my motivation to fight the Blight." Leliana ran a hand through her hair. "Well, only fair after I questioned hers, I guess. Yet, how can I sit by while the Blight devours... everything? There are so many good things in the Maker's world. So is it wrong for me to want to do something about it, even if I'm not a Grey Warden like you two?"

Alistair shook his head, smiling at her. "Not at all. As said before, I'm glad that you are here and help us. We never could do this on our own. Or do you think I would freely endure Morrigan otherwise?"

She returned the smile, glad about his comforting words. "Right. We are truly a bunch of misfits, huh?"

He shrugged and stood up to warm his hands at the fire. "Adds to the charm, I suppose. So... what is your vision all about? You have never told me."

Leliana let out a sigh, and then fell silent as if contemplating whether to tell him or not. After a moment, she eventually spoke.

"I think I dreamed of the Blight... I'm not sure anymore. It was all so dark and somber. And when I woke, I went to the Chantry's gardens, as I always did. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered, everyone knew that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled... but there it was a single, beautiful rose amidst the dead bush.

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.'"

Alistair blinked. "A rose? In Lothering?"

Leliana knitted her brows, growing confused. "Yes, why are you asking?"

"Oh... err… for no reason. Beautiful story and all that, but I think I'll go now and... do stuff." Turning quickly, he was about to stalk away as Leliana stopped him, her tone somehow dejected.

"You don't believe me at all, right?"

He shook his head, running fingers through his ruffled hair. "Well, that's not it… at all. I just have to... check something. Also, it is my turn to cook dinner tonight and that without poisoning us all. That will be hard enough."

Leliana smiled. "I see. Well, I can help you if you want."

"Yeah, that would be nice, really." With that, Alistair hurried into his tent and rummaged in his backpack until he had found the desired object. Wrapped in a linen lay still the rose, its red petals beautiful as ever and in full bloom... even after all those months. Sure it had been magically enchanted by Morrigan back in Orzammar to preserve it, but even before it had already bloomed for an unnaturally long time. He held it up to observe it more closely in the faint, dimmed light of the moon.

Maker... it couldn't be the same rose, or?

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought and, with a sigh, wrapped the flower back into the linen. Alistair didn't even exactly know why he had taken the rose with him back in Lothering or what to do with it eventually. He only knew that he couldn't leave this piece of beauty behind in a place where darkspawn would destroy and taint everything else. He simply had to rescue the flower from their claws as a reminder that there were indeed wonderful things worth saving.

In that regard, this rose was not so different from the one Leliana had described to him.

.

.

.

"Oh, It is sulking. Again."

Twilight deepened until the purple of the clouded sky turned into blackness and the stars began to come out. Apart from their camp, Lenya sat on the ground and silently watched the shadow of the Mage Tower visible in the distance. She didn't even turn her head toward the golem as she greeted the creature.

"Shale."

The golem chuckled. "So It still speaks. Good."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "Why shouldn't I?"

Shale shrugged. "It likes to behave taciturn after all. Better than the ever-prattling Clown-knight, however. So it is good that It hasn't died of the poison, despite Its squishy-ness. "

"Thanks... I guess." Lenya now turned around with a sigh, looking at her. "Is there something you want, Shale? Except to state the obvious?"

She hesitated for a moment, her violet crystals glowing in the semi-darkness as it moved yet a bit forward to the Dalish. "I have been thinking. About what Caridin said. Of who I am—was—before."

Lenya smirked, amused. "You are tall for a durgen'len, though..."

"I'm not a dwarf—or at least not anymore. Yet I need to know if that is true, instead of simply believing."

"So you want me to help you, I take it?" Lenya looked up to her, eyes narrowing. "How?"

"I remembered..." Shale was still for a moment. "Yes, after what Caridin told me I do believe to know where the Cadash thaig is. I don't know why, but I'm sure. It would be most helpful for me, if we could travel there soon."

"Travel? To the thaig?" Lenya blinked, trying to comprehend what the golem implied. "You mean down into the Deep Roads again... back in Orzammar?" Everything in her posture gave away how much she loathed the idea alone.

"Yes." She made a nodding motion with her stony head. "I can mark it on Its map if It wants. I'm most curious what we are going to find there."

Unbidden, a laughter bubbled up her throat. "You know, how ironic, that I just made up my mind to not ever return to that place, and now you ask me to do exactly that." The Dalish glared up to the golem, her tone suddenly sharp. "This couldn't you remember while we were still in Orzammar?"

She mirrored Lenya's glaring expression, displeased with her answer. "Hmpf, I said that I just remembered, didn't I?"

"Well, then it is a pity for you that you have incredibly bad timing, Shale... but we have a Blight to defeat. So don't expect me to run around and fix everyone's life while there is an Archdemon running around."

"Pigeon-crap. I should have stomped It." Shale huffed and stormed away, her behavior completely ignored by the Dalish while she was caught in her own thoughts.

It was somehow ironic that she took the Blight as an excuse now. After last night, fighting the Blight was the last thing on her mind, especially with the prospect of having to succumb to the taint either way. What was the sense to fight then? Why was she even here? Not only that shem had asked her these questions but Lenya herself, numerous times even within the last hours, yet she hadn't found a sufficient answer until now. Biting her lip, she sunk down to the ground and sighed, her heart still feeling all too heavy for her chest.

Staring out in the slowly falling night, she lingered in the darkness, using it as a shield against the world and everything else. It didn't stop her thoughts that wandered off to the unwanted place that perpetually followed her.

"Deep Roads, Elgar'nan..." It was only whispered quietly as a lament of her own and yet was caught by another person.

Zevran.

"What are the Deep Roads? It must be a terrible place if it can make you look so somber, I'm sure."

Lenya didn't regard him first. The wind blew harsh from the direction of the lake, its cutting cold made her shiver. "It is..." she only said and fell silent again. Then after another moment, she added, her tone somewhere between a warning and resignation.

"You know the last person that tried to sneak up behind me—"

His chuckling interrupted her words. "Sneaking? Oh, perish the thought, my lady." He demonstratively took a few steps forward to appear in front of her. "See, no sneaking here. No. I was just exploring the area and guess what, my dear Warden? There is a marvelous tavern not far from here."

She rolled her eyes. "How interesting."

Zevran squatted down beside the Dalish, completely disregarding her annoyance with his presence. Tilting his head, he studied her features that appeared even more grim within the shadows of the night. "You know, I can't help to be curious if this wonderful face of yours is able to laugh, actually."

"We are fighting a Blight... there is no reason to laugh." It came out harsher than Lenya intended, but was hopefully enough to drive her point home.

"Yes, yes, the big, stoic friend of yours is living this philosophy quite impressively, I must say. Still the Blight will be there tomorrow too, no?"

Blinking, Lenya glanced up to him. "What?"

Stretching his limbs, Zevran sighed lazily. "Don't get me wrong, I'm quite impressed with your sense of determination, my dear Warden, but ic I learned one thing in my time as assassin, it is to make the best out whatever situation I find myself in, stealing moments to enjoy while I can. It served me well until now and you might learn to do the same, no?"

Lenya let out a scoff. Hearing his reasoning after the news of her impending death was borderline cynical to her. "So what do you expect of me now? Jump up and dance with you to rejoice over life being wonderful?"

"Not quite." He laughed. "Although, there is an interesting Antivan dance I could teach you, if you want. You seem nimble enough—" At her glare, he quickly corrected himself. "I mean saving the world from the Blight must be a tough job on your shoulders, a heavy one too. So you might want to stop at times and take a breath. It often helps. That... or a copious amount of alcohol...which, I might add, brings me back to the marvelous tavern I have seen nearby. Such coincidence!"

Shaking her head in disbelief, Lenya drove a hand through her hair and huddled her cloak tighter against the cold. "You have planned that all along, haven't you?"

Zevran flinched over-dramatically back in mock-appall. "Oh, now you're accusing me of such horrid things. I'm shocked, my lady. I'm just trying to divert your grim mind."

"With alcohol?"

Well, there are other methods to divert one's mind. I could offer you the service of one of my most famous Antivan massage." Lips curved up to an impish, slightly suggestive smile, before he let out a long sigh at her scowl. "Ah, alcohol it is then. Unfortunately, the brew here taste like stale Mabari piss and nothing like the glorious Antivan brandy, but it will be suffice for this rather dire situation of sadness, I suppose."

One eyebrow raised in a sarcastic fashion. "How intriguing."

"Hah. I knew you would like it. I would love to offer you something more to your refined taste, but I fear our possibilities are limited right now. I could also try to steal Oghren's stash, If you pre –

"Ugh. Creators, no!" There was a ghost of a wistful smile in her face, yet quickly as it came it veiled again. "I miss Dalish wine, though..."

"Ah, homesick, my dear Warden?" He watched her frowning, how her lips pressed into a thin line. "What do you miss. exactly?"

Lenya stared out into the darkness, momentarily listening to the howling noise the wind made. "Everything and nothing, I guess. It is still so weird to be away from my clan, to live a life I didn't want. Speaking a language that is not my own. Being a Grey Warden and pressed into the role of leadership, demanded to fix everyone's life at their will, while I can hardly—" Sighing, she stopped the stream of words coming out of her mouth, wondering about herself at that.

She barely even knew him, the elf assassin who sat at her side and couldn't even fathom less why she was telling him all this. Maybe this distance, this strangeness that lay between him and herself made it easier.

He only nodded briefly, his expression sympathetic. "I know what you mean. You know what is odd? For all the wonderful things Antiva stands for, I miss leather the most."

"Leather?"

"I mean the smell. For years, I lived in a tiny apartment near Antiva City's leather-making district, in a building where the Crows stored their youngest recruits. Packed in like crates. I grew accustomed to the stench, even though the humans complained of it constantly. To this day the smell of fresh leather is what reminds me most of home more than anything else."

Lenya looked at him incredulously, before instinctively inching away. "You miss sniffing... leather? Why did I let you live again?"

Zevran chuckled. "Ah, not quite in that way, my Dalish minx. It reminds me more of all the idle pleasures I got up to in that little apartment. Good times. It is my first time away from Antiva, however, and the thought of never returning makes me think of it constantly."

"I... uh... see. Still... weird."

"Maybe." He laughed. "What I wanted to say it that one simply never knows what is to come next. How could I have suspected I would end up defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, a woman who then spares my life? I could not. So if that is not worth a drink in the tavern, I don't know what is."

Sighing, Lenya rolled her eyes. "If you finally shut up then..."

Pleased, Zevran clasped his hands together. "Marvelous." Without moving from his place, he suddenly turned around to a distant source of noise, his tone amused. "Ah, speaking of Wardens. Hello. It's a wonderful night, no?"

Lenya not only heard the approaching steps, she felt his presence also deep inside, inevitably linked to each other as they were. This time, however, it was strangely comforting.

Upon seeing Zevran, his face fell, and his posture stiffened at the same time. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the view, life, the company. Take your pick, my friend." The elf smiled at Alistair, all too obviously content with his place at Lenya's side, which seemed to irritate the Warden even more.

Alistair narrowed his eyes, silently glaring down on his smaller companion.

Zevran sighed and rolled his eyes with great exaggeration. "My, such unneeded hostility, my dear Alistair. You look at me as if I have tried to kill her. Again." His lips twisted into a smile, already knowing how predictably he would react. "If this soothes you, I haven't. Not this time."

Alistair struggled to keep his temper—much to his own surprise—but managed to stay calm somehow, pressing only one word out under his breath. "Go."

He mock-bowed to him. "As you wish, my dear Warden." In one movement, Zevran was on his feet and turned with a wink one final time to Lenya. "I will see you later then, my lady, no?"

Without an answer, Lenya waited until the elf disappeared into the camp's direction, and then let out a sigh. "You always find me, huh? How annoying."

"I... well. Yes, I guess. But I don't mean to..." Alistair sighed. "I can go again, if that is better. But you'll miss dinner then. Anyway... what was he doing here?"

It bothered him too much to not mention it.

She only shrugged. "Nothing."

Alistair stepped closer to her, yet he still not dared to come too near and meet her eyes. "You are too trustworthy what concerns that assassin—"

"I'm not. Creators, I can take care of myself, puppy. "

Lenya almost bit her tongue after those words, regretting them. After last night, they sounded somewhat hollow. Silence followed, one that stretched uncomfortably, only interrupted by the noise the chilling breeze made as it hit the water and few trees nearby.

Her thoughts circled, unwanted, around her breakdown and all the bothering emotions that had surfaced with it. With last night, Lenya had even broken the last oath she had made to herself: never to cry in front of a human. Now, where she had disregarded her own rule, she didn't know how to face him, how to handle what had happened. If his stillness was any indication, he didn't know either. There should have been anger with him still lingering inside of her, a remaining resentment for him daring to keep such a gruesome fact secret from her for so long, but all that she found was utter exhaustion. She was tired of the pain and loss she had experienced, tired of lamenting her fate she could not change. Yet she was not ready to accept it as a whole.

At least not now.

Lenya caught a glimpse of his face; his expression was distant, somehow lost in thoughts. Settling for something trivial to say, she finally raised her voice as the silence became too unbearable. "You have cooked?"

Blinking at the unexpected sound, his gaze flung to her figure on the ground. "Err, so to speak, yes."

"I see." Nodding, a ghost of a smile washed over her face. "Then it is possibly better to miss dinner."

Alistair needed a moment to grasp that she was mocking him. And this time it was welcomed, because it made it easier to actually speak with her. "Ow. Now that is... " He paused with an only half-serious sigh. "Okay... justified. I'm better at killing things with a pointy stick instead of roasting them impaled on one. But to save what little grace I have left, Leliana helped me. So it is, in fact, edible."

Lenya still avoided looking at him, yet felt more at ease already. "Good to know. Because I was just poisoned... or still am, more like." She stiffened at her last, unthinking, blurted out words almost in an instant, feeling the tension prior dissolved through his words returning.

"I… uh... look Lenya—"

Her raised hand silenced him. "Don't. Just... don't. I'm okay." The blatant lie let her even laugh herself. "Creators, who am I kidding... I am not. Or else I wouldn't have agreed to have a drink in a human tavern with that weird, leather-loving elf who is talking even more than you, puppy. And this says something."

"You did what?"

Shrugging, she turned to him with a slight smirk. "You can come too, you know."

Now Alistair was fully confused. "You want me to come... with you?"

"Yes. Last time you were complaining that we weren't drinking together. So I figure I won't hear the end of it, if I leave you behind this time."

He stepped a bit closer still and squatted down to meet her eyes now. "I did what? I can't remember having said that."

Her tone was sardonic as she glowered at him. "Oh, of course you didn't. Idiot. I still hate you for that."

"Riiight. You are one confusing woman, you know that?" He shook his head in bewilderment, not knowing where to put these words of hers. "Anyway... why are you going with Zevran, of all people?"

"His idea." She shrugged. "Well, I think for all his weirdness, he is right. I simply need a break from all that... I guess. So the Blight can kiss my ass for tonight. It will be there tomorrow, too. Unfortunately."

He actually chuckled now. "Well, maybe we can ask the archdemon to simply leave. Worth the try, at least. In any case, I'll gladly accompany you." It wasn't a lie in the slightest. The thought of her being alone with that elf was irreconcilable within his mind. The smile suddenly faded and he became serious again, his gaze sincere. "For what is worth, I'm sorry for blurting that out like that. It was a bit... unthinking and tactless of me."

Lenya needed a moment to catch what he meant and she scowled as she did. "A bit?"

"Okay... a lot. I deserved the slap and all the things you yelled at me, I guess. I should have told you... I don't know... earlier. Or in a better way." He looked away from her, out into the darkness. "But I fear there is no better way for such... news. It was... Duncan who told me that, only a few days after my own Joining. I felt betrayed and, Maker, was I angry at him. I think I broke two chairs in his study and screamed at him for a long while."

Alistair smiled wistfully and used the pause to wait to see if she would say something about it, but there was only silence. So he continued instead, "And he just stood there in the middle of the room and let me vent my anger, my hatred I had in this moment at the world and waited, simply waited, until I was done. Then he looked at me and said, 'Alistair. Any one of us could fall in battle against the darkspawn. It doesn't matter who we are—death is assured either way, Grey Warden or not. It isn't important how you die, but how you live.'" He shook his head at the memory, the smile growing sad. "It didn't make me hate him less in that moment, but now with some distance I can see truth in his words, especially now while we fight a Blight."

Lenya didn't answer, was momentarily even unable to. How she hated him for always saying the right or wrong things so unexpectedly, which gave her no possibility to brace herself for the impact of his words. And he had done it once again.

Stupid human.

She took a deep breath, noticing that it slightly quivered. "I see," was all she managed after the long stillness. Shuffling on the cold ground, the Dalish looked up to him, her tone sardonic. "So, short life-span, everlasting darkspawn nightmares, raving hunger... is there anything else cheery you have to tell me about the wonderful life as a Grey Warden?" She narrowed her eyes, glowering up to him. "You better spit it out now or else..."

"Well, there is one more thing," he started with a sigh and saw how Lenya stiffened, almost as if ready to spring at his neck. "The taint..." Alistair hesitated, feeling embarrassed to continue." ...lowers the fertility rate drastically. It is not impossible to... but very, very difficult for a Grey Warden to have a child."

She blinked, having expected more grave news. "That's it?"

Alistair nodded, slightly confused. "Err, yes?"

"Good. I hate kids."

"What?"

"Children are not unlike demons. They are annoying, demanding and sucking the life out of oneself. But demons I'm allowed to kill, at least. Also," she said, and her lips twisted into a smirk, "I can barely look out for Arai. I even forget to feed him most the time. Fortunately he is intelligent enough to find his own food, or else he would have perished long ago."

Her fellow Warden momentarily gawked at her, until he remembered to speak. "Wow. That is one cheery view."

She got to her feet in an instant and shrugged, unimpressed by his bewilderment. "I rather call it pragmatic... and healthy. Anyway, where is dinner? I'm hungry. Again." With that, she took steps toward their camp in a quick stride, leaving him no choice but to follow.

.

.

.

The tavern at Lake Calenhad was bustling and nearly packed with humans.

With the help of Zevran's charm and coin they had managed to snatch the last available table in the far left corner. Though now that they were seated there, Lenya was unsure if she really wanted to stay within this gritty, dimly lit place. Doing her best not to scowl permanently, she observed the mass of humans in front of her with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination, their loud tangle of voices piercing her ears and mind alike. Aside from Ostagar, her experience with humans outside her group was rather non-existent. Seeing how some of them herded like cattle in a corner just to get a drink or a bit of food, the Dalish couldn't say that she was sorry about that fact.

And then there was the stench.

She wrinkled her nose. Creators, one could say the same about the dwarven tavern, Tapsters, but at least the durgen'len had the decency to wash themselves once in a while. Whereas the humans present tonight obviously preferred to omit this bothering act of hygiene and went straight to the drinking. Sitting in a constant odor of stale sweat awoke in Lenya the wish to drown them all in Lake Calenhad until they would finally stop smelling worse than Arai ever did. Unfortunately, tonight she lacked the weapons and armor to drive this point home, having taken Alistair's advice of 'keeping a low profile.' She would make sure not to make the same mistake the next time.

Lenya's head snapped up at the loud, tinny noise of a mug hitting the ground, along with the disdained laughter of a small group of smarmy men at the table in front of them. Those men easily stood out in the human mass, while most of them seemed to be simple farm people, they were dressed in standard steel chain armor with their weapons splayed on the table in front of them, clear for anyone to see.

Their scornful laughter was addressed at the skinny, dark-haired elven waitress who looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but here right now. "You dropped my mug, knifed-eared wench. Look my armor, it got all wet. What are you going to do about it now?" one of them asked, his blond, ruffled beard twitched up as he grinned.

"I... uh, sorry," she stammered. "I'll get you a new one. On the house."

"Good girl. That is the least you can do, really. But first you will have to get the mug back, right?" Under the cheering of his men, he kicked the tankard further under the table, just as the female elf bent down to pick it up. Now she had to crawl under the table to reach it, which they seized as an opportunity to place some smacks onto her bottom.

Lenya's scowl only deepened at that.

"Well, you can say what you want about this place, but it is heartwarming how the Blight brings people together."

Alistair's voice shifted her focus back at him, seeing that he was just as bewildered at the tavern's commotion as she was.

They had heard rumors of Lothering's fall, scattered snippets of words in the tavern telling how darkspawn have burned down the village in less than one day, killing everyone in a cold frenzy who were not fast enough to flee. Most of the people seemed to be from the south and the village, seeking shelter for the night before moving on, or simply drowning their sorrows with alcohol. The majority preferred to do the latter, so the atmosphere in the tavern was agitated and tensed.

Lenya jerked a thumb toward the group and scoffed. "So this is how flat-ears get treated by humans? Interesting. And one might wonder why we prefer to be homeless wanderers."

"Ah, yes the life of the Dalish. Quite better indeed," Zevran mused. "Living in the woods is not a life for me, because I'm too much Antivan for that, but quite romantic to others, I imagine."

She glared at him with a furious intensity. "Romantic? What do you think we do? Frolick around trees?"

"Oh, not at all, my dear Warden. I even happened to run off to a clan as they drew near Antiva City once, so I saw it firsthand. Alas, it turned out to be a bad idea, such as it was. I prefer the comfort and idle pleasures a city offers too much to live in the forest with the demanded devotion, it seemed."

Her eyes narrowed. "And I happen to prefer freedom over subjugation, idiot. Better hardship and danger than slavery like... that. "

Within the months of knowing Lenya, Alistair had learned that it was better not to answer about that, because it was such an emotional topic for her. So he stayed quiet. All the more, he enjoyed how the normally eloquent elf risked his neck with this careless talk, falling lower and lower in her grace by the minute. It was oddly satisfying.

"This isn't sla—" Zevran appeared to notice her sudden tension as well, so he halted his words. "Ah, well, but why fight over some drunken fools who don't know how to treat a woman?" With that, he waved the elven waitress nearer, motioned her to come closer and whispered something in her pointed ears. Leaning back with a smirk, he enjoyed the blush and the giggle his words conjured. He winked at her one final time before she turned to continue her work.

Alistair arched an eyebrow at the scene. "Right... and what exactly makes this action you better than those idiots over there?"

"Oh? "Zevran blinked, slightly offended. "I thought you have seen the difference just now. I chose my words respectfully and I'm proud to be able to say that I know what women want, spoken quite frankly. It is a sensual interplay of give and take." He smirked. "And I offered much just now. Although the taking is quite pleasu—"

"All right... that is too much information for me." Alistair cut him off, blushing. "I was raised in a Chantry, but even I know... oh, Maker... just stop talking."

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, so finicky again, my dear Alistair. So you prefer another technique, I take it?"

His eyes darted to Lenya and back to the elf, feeling all too uncomfortable. "Technique?"

Zevran couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Oh ho ho. Wait, my dear friend. So let me get this straight. You have... never wooed? Not once? You are woo-less, as it were?"

Oh, how Alistair hated that elf right now. Zevran seemingly enjoyed pointing out his utter inexperience with women in front of Lenya, who fortunately appeared bored by the conversation. Nonetheless, it was beyond awkward. He tried to keep it light. "I was raised in a Chantry, remember?"

"Ah, yes. My condolences, then. If you ever need advice or are curious about certain techniques, I can show—"

His blush deepened. "Maker's breath, no! I'm fine!"

"You know," Lenya piped up all the sudden, "you were right, the ale does taste like stale Mabari piss." She pointedly looked at both of them. "Done with the awkward stuff now?"

"Well, well, look what we have here? Another knifed-eared bitch, eh?" Suddenly the man with the fuzzy, ruffled beard ascended beside the Dalish and eyed her with great interest. "Why are you not working and serving me drinks like you should?"

Unperturbed, she didn't even turn to the human, completely ignoring him. "Funny, I could swear I heard a filthy shem talking crap right now. Must be the ale, I suppose. It is really that bad."

"Oh, and a funny knife-ear, even. Why don't you come over and play a bit with us? We don't bite. Mostly." His men at the other table laughed at that, its sound rumbling through the tavern. Where there had been a tangle of laughter and voices before, there now was utter tranquility, everyone watching the scene unfolding with a mixture of great interest and horror.

"Ugh. Shem'alas nuvenin din, sulevin." Glancing over to that human, Lenya noticed a dagger loosely sheathed within his belt and smirked slightly. He just needed to come a bit closer...

"Never mind, then we come to you and... play, bitch." He gestured over to the other table and his group walked over in an instant.

Alistair tensed and glared up to the three approaching, armed men, feeling the anger seething up his system. They could insult him and he couldn't care less, but that was a whole different story with Lenya.

"I suggest you all leave this table. Now."

Their leader was nothing but amused by his threat. "Or you will do what, boy? We are the mighty White Falcons mercenaries, and when we see something we want then we take it." He laughed roughly. "And right now I want your little blond knife-ear. Don't worry, we won't damage her... much."

Alistair glared at him for a moment more, then launched to his feet, heedless of the sword pointed at him. The man was older, he noticed, his face weathered and partly scarred, scruffy in a whole with his ruffled beard and oily hair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair discerned that Zevran had disappeared from his place, seemingly had slipped out of their sight before the men were circling their table. He scoffed. How fitting that the elf abandoned them at the first sign of danger.

Almost instantly as he stood, two of the men stepped closer to the Warden and pointed their blades at him as well. It made it nearly impossible for Alistair to move without impaling himself and, watching their grinning faces, he ralized that this was what they had intended.

"If you touch her," Alistair growled, "I'll kill you!"

Oh..." Their leader chuckled. "It seems as if you are unable to hinder me doing so. Pity." Still grinning, he turned to Lenya, stepped closer and reached out to touch her. Before his hand could even make contact, she had moved and pulled the dagger off his belt. Using the quick momentum to grab his hand, she pulled it down and impaled it with the blade on the wooden table. Blood splattered from his hand and the man's cry of pain was deafening, leaving his group and the onlookers in a state of utter shock.

"Shem'alas, ma tu'lin. Before you could touch me, even," she said, her voice full of disdain, and then whacked her heavy mug over his skull to make him shut up. Alistair seized the group's confusion aside him to punch one of the men into the face and snatched away his sword as he tumbled backward at the force and hit the ground. Whirling around to the other, haggard man, the Warden pointed the tip of the sword at his neck. "I give you this one chance. Leave."

"Pah, I won't never—" The rest of his words were cut off by a series of whooping coughs, each one bringing up a mouthful of blood.

"Oh, have I interrupted your conversation with him, dear Alistair?" Zevran blinked innocently and freed his dagger from the man's back as he sank to the ground, profoundly bleeding. "Tsk, where are my manners, I'm so sorry. Also, for my rather late re-entrance, I apologize, as well. I was quite fascinated by the marvelous display of our dear Warden."

Turning, Alistair witnessed how the third man was trying to draw closer to Lenya, who stood in front of him in a wary stance, a weapon in each hand. It was also obvious due to the mocking tone in his voice that the human wasn't taking her seriously in the slightest.

"Now, put the sword down... or someone could lose an eye if you keep waving it around like that." He laughed at his own joke. "Stupid elven wench."

"Or his head..." she muttered, unblinking, and hauled out to decapitate the human in one stroke. The guests of the tavern gasped in shock as his head and body hit the ground with a wet thud, leaving the elf spattered with his blood. She looked down at the corpse. "See?"

Alistair blinked, surprised by her action, while Zevran simply smirked. "Well, there is nothing like gratuitous violence, is there? Now that the warm and fuzzy part of the night is over, I suggest we should probably leave, Lenya. That's enough gore and blood for one night, don't you think?"

She only shrugged. "They started it."

"M-m-maker just who are you?" stammered the man Alistair had hit, as he got up and saw the gory mess around him. He found it hard to believe that this tiny elven woman managed to do this on her own... then again, was she covered in blood from head to toe.

Lenya smiled at him in a cold fashion, the white of her teeth a stark contrast to the red of the blood on her. "I'm a Dalish, shem'alas... and a Grey Warden," she added, still smirking.

Alistair found his gaze transfixed at her bloodied frame, the proud, unyielding stance of hers. He knew he shouldn't find this attractive, and yet couldn't help to think so.

"A G-g-grey Warden?" His eyes grew wide in utter shock. "I... had I known... I…. ahhh." Instantly, he whirled and fled out the tavern as fast as he could, heedless of his leader still unconscious on the ground... or anything.

"That was quite a riveting evening, no?" Zevran mused with a grin and started to collect the dagger and any useful loot from the ground, before following Lenya who was about to leave as well.

.

.

.

"That was fun!" Lenya exclaimed when they were outside the Tavern again and on their way back to camp. The night hung heavy over the place, the light of the moon reflected in the water of the lake as they walked forward.

Zevran chuckled. "My, my. Would I had known that violence excites you so much, I'd have arranged something more refined for your taste. Those humans were rather... ungraceful."

"Oh, it sufficed." Her lips twisted into a smirk. "Thanks, Zevran."

"Always a pleasure. Alas, my dear Wardens…" The elf sighed and stopped his steps. "I won't follow you into camp. At least not now."

"What?" Her brows drew low. "Why?"

"I made a promise, an appointment with a beautiful elven lady I have to keep, of course." He sighed again, this time for purely dramatic reasons. "Sometimes, it is hard work to be such an handsome, sultry elf. "

Lenya stared at him in bewilderment for a moment before shrugging. "Err... whatever."

Alistair smiled, pleased that she was unimpressed by his antics. "My thoughts, exactly." Turning to Lenya, he asked, "Shall we return to camp, then? Unless you have more people to behead, of course."

She shrugged, passing him by. "No, I guess it's enough for now."

"That's... good to know."

Together, they threaded the short way back to camp in silence. This time, however, it was a pleasant one.

.

~V~

.

"You know, there are times when I'm ashamed for the behavior of... humans, and this evening is one of them."

His voice startled her as it suddenly rang through the stillness of camp. They have sat at the fire for a while in silence and she had nearly forgotten his company, but now his words made her painfully aware of it again. Wrapped in her cloak, she still shivered, and drops of water dripped down her skin as she heaved her head up to meet his eyes.

Despite the freezing cold, Lenya found the urge to clean herself up at their return, since she simply couldn't let the blood of the filthy shem remain on her skin. Now she was seizing the heat of the fire to get warm again, but it was a slow, tedious process.

"It is okay..."

"No it is not," he objected with a frown and winced at the motion.

"I mean the shem'alas got what they deserved." She sighed, exasperated, standing up from her seat. "And now let me see this cut of yours."

"I-it's n-nothing, really," he stammered, instinctively flinching back as she came closer and observed the little cut across his left eyebrow with a scowl.

"Elger'nan. Shem'alas..."

"You keep saying that, but what does it mean, exactly?"

She turned to the fire, wetting a little cloth in the leftover the boiled water. "Nothing to concern yourself with."

"Right, I..." The words died in his throat all the sudden as he felt her fingers on his face, the pain of the hot cloth, and the burn of his cut a welcomed distraction.

"Creators, hold still. You are worse than a da'len."

Alistair felt the warmth rising in his cheeks and tried to reason it with the heat of the cloth cleaning his cut, but in truth it was her proximity that caused it, he realized. And she was close now. He could see every freckle on her face and how the light of the fire cast flickering shadows over the edges of the tattoo on her forehead. The intervals of her calm breathing brushed his skin ever so slightly, the mixed scent of soap, smoke, and something more that was so distinctively her claimed his senses, all unbidden.

He tried to look at something else, something that weren't her lips or her green eyes squinted in concentration, while cursing his heart that did not stop beating so fast, no matter how much he wished for it.

"So, he is not coming back so soon, huh?" Alistair blurted, feeling the need to say anything to cover his unbearable nervousness within.

She stopped, looking confused. "Who?"

"Zevran," he replied and felt stupid doing so. Why, by Andraste, was he actually talking about him, anyway? It wasn't that he cared in the slightest for that elf.

Lenya shrugged as she cast the cloth aside. "Who cares?"

And yet it made him incredibly content that she didn't either.

"You... didn't have to do that, you know. It is just a scratch anyway."

One corner of her mouth went up. "I know. But I don't have the nerves to endure your whining should the cut become infected and fester. So it is better to clean it right away. "

"Right. Thanks." Alistair sighed. "This I got from riding to your rescue, so to speak... which you totally didn't need, by the way. It was quite impressive how you handled that ass on your own. Okay, the beheading of the other one was a bit too much of a drama for my taste, but I think you made your point loud and clear with it."

Lenya sat aside him again, furrowing her brows. "Which is?"

"Well, basically, a reminder for me to never touch you. It could end badly and I like my head where it is, thank you."

She glanced away, picking up the cloth to throw it into the fire and observed how it flared in the flames. "I would never hurt you..."

He felt how his heart skipped a beat at those words before it sped up again, betraying his intent to stay calm. Despite the freezing chill of the weather, there was a strange, comfortable warmness that engulfed him and settled in the base of his stomach with a burn.

"...unless you deserve it. Like yesterday." Lenya finished her sentence with a slight grin.

He laughed nervously. "Yeah. I think I did deserve that, huh?" Alistair nearly had forgotten that she was a little smartass that loved to mock him... or was it teasing? How could one differentiate those two things and why did he care so much for it anyway? Letting out a breath he couldn't remember holding, he looked up to her. "Nor would I hurt you. Ever."

Lenya blinked confused at sincere warmness in his voice, but tried to shrug it off. "Well, you are too busy getting yourself hurt anyway. Why did you do that tonight, idiot? You could have gotten yourself killed from your tantrum and I would be the only remaining Warden here. Suffice to say that I don't need that, right?"

Alistair felt a bit offended at that, his voice becoming louder than intended. "What did you expect me to do? Simply watch how those bastards—" Sighing, he stopped himself, rubbing his face with both of his hands to calm down. "Look, I was angry. Much. I couldn't stand how they treated that woman, how they treated... you. You know, the one good thing, aside the training, that they taught me in the Chantry was how to be a gentleman, especially in the presence of a beautiful woman such as yourself."

One amused eyebrow shot up. "Beautiful, huh?"

Blinking rashly, he felt the heat rising in his cheeks again, if it was ever gone in the first place. "I... err... well..."

Maker, please open the earth to swallow me whole. I would appreciate it. Thanks, Alistair.

He swallowed hard, his throat felt suddenly too dry, as he wished to make those words undone. Knowing well that he couldn't, he forced himself to continue. "I have said that, right? Do you... have... any opinion on me... saying... that?"

After finishing his sentence, Alistair had to fight the nonsensical urge to cover his ears or to observe the pattern of his boots. It became even harder to resist this need as the silence stretched seemingly endlessly on, torturing him.

Eventually, Lenya did not answer with words but with a simple smile that left him puzzled. Standing up from her seat, the Dalish slowly started to saunter over to her tent, but turned around once more. "You know, you are not too bad... for a human. Good night, Alistair."

And those words put a silly grin onto his face that did not cease for the rest of the night.

.

.

.

Alistair groaned as he opened his eyes, feeling as if he was being squeezed to a pulp by an ogre.

He hadn't slept much, aside from the little hours that had been left for it anyway, it was her that made it nearly impossible. After Lenya left him behind to vanish into her tent, thoughts of her had circulated within his mind more than ever and made it very hard to find any rest. He slowly rose, shaking off the last lingering remnants of a dream that had been dominated by her appearance as well. Maybe he was just going insane, it had taken long enough for him to reach that point, anyway.

Oh, Maker...

From outside his tent, he could hear voices, laughter, even, and the distinct sound of blades clashing. Although the morning air was crisp and cool as ever, the sun shone through the cracks of his canvas, indicating a beautiful day to come.

Beautiful... Alistair started at the word in his mind as it reminded him about the prior events in the night.

When had he started to think about her that way?

Granted, objectively seen Lenya was all that, although not in the classical lady-like sense and rather in a wild, unyielding and proud way. Which only made her more interesting to him... but oh, Maker, this was his fellow Warden he was thinking about here... and shouldn't think at all, more like. Groaning again, Alistair finished the last button on his thick leather breeches and slipped out of his tent, opting to buckle his armor later the day. He needed to sort out his confusing thoughts first.

Heading for the middle of camp and the nearly extinct bonfire, he sat down in front of its remaining blaze and warmed his hands at its heat. Behind him he could hear her laughing and had to force himself not to turn around to find out what amused her so. Instead, Alistair bent over to pick up a mug of heated stew and slowly took a sip, as the cold feeling of steel grazed his skin all the sudden.

"M-m-maker!" Alistair startled, nearly fell over at his second of fright, the hot stew spilling over his boots. An all-too-familiar snickering reverberated behind him, causing his heart to keep the frantic beat it had adapted. Taking a second or two to calm himself down again, Alistair looked over his shoulder and blinked up to her appearance. Noticing that he was actually staring at her face, he cleared his throat and willed the words out. "You gave me a heart attack there. What was that for?"

Lenya smirked. "Well, you have promised me to train with me. So?"

"N-now?"

She shrugged. "Why not? It is early enough and we still have time. Also... I'm bored sparring with Zevran, our fighting style is too alike." Her lips twisted into an impish smirk. "Aside from the fact that I'm much better, of course."

"Ah, such cruel jabs to my pride, my dear Warden," the elf piped up while sheathing his daggers again. "I had a hard ,but pleasurable night, after all. Normally, I'm not fighting fair either, so you are clearly at an advantage today." He winked at her and smirked. "There are many moves I still can show you, however."

"Whatever," she only replied with a roll of her eyes and turned to Alistair again. "So?"

"All right, all right, let's do it." He stood up with a sigh and took the blunt sword she offered him. Heading to the side of camp, Alistair tried not to notice how the light of the sun shimmered in her blond hair or how she was already breathing heavy from the prior exertion. He failed. Being around her had suddenly lost a lot of its implicitness and was replaced by a nervousness that he couldn't exactly pinpoint. He only was aware that it had become hard to focus at all for him in her near.

"Don't fall for her. You will regret it, believe me."

Blinking at Duncan's sudden voice in his mind, Alistair shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I'm not!"

Lenya arched an eyebrow, staring at him as if he had gone mad. He probably had. "Done now?"

"Y-yes, sorry," he stammered, blushing.

"Good." The Dalish straightened her posture and rolled her shoulders, grinning. "Because I'm going to kick your human ass now."

"I surely hope so, Lenya," Morrigan threw in from beside the scene while finishing her herbal potions. "'Twould would be very disappointing if that tool could beat you." She smirked. "So don't hold back."

Ugh, Morrigan. It was the distraction he needed, her voice was like a cold shower for his mind that never missed its effect. Taking a deep breath, he was finally able to focus at the task at hand. "I think I should teach you?"

"Well." She took her fighting stance and whirled the two training daggers around. "Let us first see if there is something you can teach me at all." Lenya motioned at him to come closer. "Come attack me normally, I want to try parrying your blows."

Alistair needed a moment to grasp her words, of what she expected and then nodded, grounding himself to get ready to fight. He was distantly aware of their companions gathering around them, heard how Oghren even was placing a bet... against him. But that all dissolved in a blur as he forced his mind to focus on Lenya and Lenya only. With one last breath, the Warden started to lung forward... but his blow got easily parried by her blades. He blinked, dumbfounded, at her.

Maker, had she always moved so quickly and so... gracefully?

He found it somehow hard to keep his gaze away from her and was acutely aware that focus had nothing to do with it. After another moment, Alistair shook himself and forced his eyes to drop.

No... not in love. Couldn't be. Shouldn't be.

"You are holding back. That is disappointing, puppy." Lenya sighed, exasperated. "I'm no delicate flower like the shem'ashar, so stop that." To emphasize her words, she rushed forward, placing a few quick jabs against him that he was barely able to block.

Alistair felt the blood rushing through his veins as adrenaline kicked in, and with it a bit of frustration at the confident display of her skills. She smirked at his scowl, was clearly taunting and demanding him to stop holding back with her posture. Maybe he should just do that. It would at least distract him from the unwanted thought of finding her incredible alluring doing so, right?

Once more he cursed his brain. Alluring. Andraste's flaming knickers, she was his fellow Warden.

Heat flared in his cheeks and settled with anger and something else in his innards. Using this emotion to his advantage, Alistair leaped forward, the steel singing in unison as their blades met.

Not in love.

Alistair was breathing heavy as he arched back for another strike. While he ceased to hold back now, his knees felt too weak to use his whole strength. Still, Lenya struggled to parry the thrust of his sword, which was oddly satisfying.

No. Impossible...

And then another, more angry now.

I'm not allowed to.

Lenya was thrown back by it and let out a frustrated snarl that he managed to make her lose her stance. Gritting her teeth, she glowered at him, her breathing came out in ragged intervals. His eyes locked with hers almost automatically, even against his will. Alistair could help but love the fire, the passion sparking within her gaze, feeling that he was about to lose this fight and meant not the sparring in the slightest.

He was in trouble... in big, big trouble.

Frustrated at this epiphany, Alistair charged once more but it had lost its prior force, so that it was all too easy for the elf to evade his strike. With one single subterfuge, she pivoted to her left and whirled around, even bringing him to his knees as he lunged into thin air. Lenya smiled and kicked his sword aside, the light of the sun above hitting her features as she turned. And he could nothing but to stare enraptured at the wonder that she was to him, eventually giving up his inner struggle like he did with this sword fight.

"You will regret it." He most likely would. And yet was he helpless against those feelings, this unbelievable warmth that flooding him amidst winter, leaving him breathless.

Pointing with her dagger at his neck, Lenya smirked down at him, amused. "So what now, puppy?" Alistair did not answer at first, found himself unable to as he looked at her face, captivated by her fair features. How could he have ceased to see the most obvious fact until today?

She was beautiful. Always had been.

"I surrender."

.

Elvish notes:

Elgar'nan- A Dalish god of vengeance, also used as an equivalent term to "Oh no" or "Damn it"

Shem'alas- dirty/filthy human

Shem'ashar - human woman/women

Shem'alas nuvenin din, sulevin- The dirty human wants to die, it seems.

Shem'alas, ma tu'lin- Filthy human, I have made you bleed.