Chapter 3

Contrary to popular belief, Alistair took great pains to maintain his hairstyle. In private, of course. Or when he thought nobody was looking. Mostly, when Morrigan wasn't looking. Sten didn't care either way, Aedan wasn't too concerned about appearances to begin with, and as for Leliana, well, nothing escaped the woman's attention. Alistair had learnt that lesson one morning when she had commented about how he played with his golem dolls while on guard duty.

The man frowned while pushing his fingers through his hair carefully. Dolls? Honestly!

They weren't doll dolls. They were golem dolls! They were masculine! A boy's toy! Well, not exactly a toy. They were a means of expressing creativity. In a masculine way. Yes. That was what it was.

"Why do I even bother?" he muttered to himself and poked the fire with a stick.

The Circle had been a bloody nightmare. Literally and figuratively. Abominations running rampant, demons running rampant, insane mages running rampant... lots of rampant-ness. Except for the templars. They were just afraid and doing nothing.

Not that they could do anything, Alistair thought bitterly. One or two abominations, they could have handled. But a horde of the monstrosities was one too much for any Circle.

The incident had cemented in his mind the dangers mages posed to society, and yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that the majority of the mages had been innocent. The ones resorting to blood magic only wanted change. And kill them, initially.

The templars had resorted to the Right of Annulment, by which the entire tower would be cleansed of mages. That wasn't very nice, either.

Alistair tiredly rubbed his eyes. The schism between the mages and templars would only grow until something exploded. Change would have to come. The way things were now weren't right, even Alistair could see that.

Not all mages were bad, however; Wynne, an elderly mage who had joined them and had done everything in her power to help them throughout the nightmarish experiences at the tower. That she was a healer had been an added bonus. She and her apprentice, one Solona Amell, had joined them on their quest to end the Blight. Alistair liked them well enough.

"Not playing with dolls tonight, I see."

Alistair jumped and yelped. To his credit, it was a rather masculine yelp. At least he thought it was.

"Maker, Leli," he exclaimed, hand over his chest in an effort to calm his heart. "You scared me!"

Giggling heartily, the redhead plopped down beside him on the grass. "I'm sorry, Alistair. I couldn't help it," she said before looking at him. Then she burst into laughter again.

"So glad I amuse you," the man complained, rubbing his chest exaggeratedly. "I could've died you know! Maker, I'll never get over get over how quietly you can move."

Wiping away tears and still giggling, Leliana said, "It took me years and years to learn. What fun is it if I never use it?"

So much evil in so cute a girl...

"Well, use it on Morrigan next time."

"I don't know about that," she mused and pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning back and placing her palms on the ground. "Morrigan has very sharp senses. I might have dabbled in stealth for a long time, but I'm definitely not the best at it."

"Huh. So you didn't sneak around when spying?"

"Well. We all had different ways of doing things."

"Like?"

"Some preferred not to be seen at all, to cloak themselves in shadow and darkness." Leliana tucked a loose coil of hair behind her ear before continuing. "I realised that it is not such a bad thing to be seen, as long as you don't stand out and are quickly forgotten. I specialised in blending in, not drawing attention and looking like I had every right to be there. It is invisibility, but of another kind."

"Well, I can see how that would work, I suppose," Alistair replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know. The stories I've heard of Orlesian bards were often far... racier, shall we say. It had to do with how they lulled their targets into complacency and assassinated them."

"We had strict rules regarding that," the bard replied with a gentle smile, as if explaining a lesson to a petulant child patiently. "If not, then why would bards be entertained in courts?"

"Fair point, but there is a certain allure to danger, no? Besides, I even heard that bards used seduction. How would you expect to remain invisible after, well, after that?"

The smug look that came over the redhead's face made Alistair rather apprehensive of what was to come.

"Not if they died."

Oh.

Alistair stared at Leliana's face blankly for a while before looking back at the dancing flames. "Oh," he repeated intelligently.

The bard sat up, wrapped her arms around her knees and inclined her body a bit towards his own, retaining the smug look. "Dying while in the company of a lovely seductress... tell me that isn't a good death."

Alistair squirmed. He tried to play it off as a shudder, but it wasn't cold enough to warrant one. Screwing up his face, he turned to look at his friend. "I don't know if I should take you seriously... but you scare me sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"Oh go away."

The comfortable silence that ensued was one Alistair welcomed. His mind wandered to the very fresh memories of how he had been manipulated by a demon, using his desires against him by projecting a lifelike illusion. His sister, Goldanna, had been there. She was the only family Alistair had, though she didn't know of his existence. It had taken Aedan quite some effort – and a tight slap – to make him concentrate on the realities of life.

Sighing, the man pulled up his right leg and folded his elbow over his knee. Glancing at his friend, he saw that she herself seemed to be in thought. She had gone through a nightmare too, having her desires used against her.

And here I am, letting my own worries eat away at me when everybody else suffered equally. Maker, when did I become so selfish?

He half wanted to ask the girl what hers had been about, but he didn't feel ready to share much of his personal life with her yet. Not like it's terribly interesting anyway.

"That templar. Cullen. Did you know him?"

That question caught him off guard. Had she seen him staring?

"Cullen Rutherford is his name," Alistair began with a shake of his head, thinking back to the cowering, weeping mess of the man he had seen at the Circle, driven half-mad from fear, thirst, starvation, and lyrium-withdrawal. "He and I were... bunkmates. We have had five pillow fights. Two of which he won and one which is considered a draw by mutual consent, because of our fragile male egos, you know?"

Leliana merely nodded, silently asking him to continue. So taking a deep breath, Alistair did.

"Templars recruit their members from a very young age, you see. Sometimes from infancy. I was sent to Bournshire at the age of ten. Four years later, came along Cullen, aged thirteen. He was among the oldest recruits and for a while, everyone made fun of him because there was no way he could catch up. But he did. Showed all of his haters, that one," Alistair proclaimed proudly. "He took to the training like a fish to water. Said it's what he wanted to do all his life, you know? Pledge himself to a noble cause. A young idealist. Like most of them. Me, I hated it there. Training was fun, though.

"Anyway, came 9:29 Dragon and I was recruited into the Wardens. That was the last I saw of Cullen. Until yesterday. Got to live his dream, it seems. I guess he didn't anticipate how it would turn out," he finished with a sigh.

"He was Solona's templar, you know."

Oh? Well, that's news.

"Have you spoken with her, then?"

Leliana nodded. "She says that Cullen was tasked with watching over her, along with a few others. Wynne has told her about the circumstances of the rebellion. I'm almost glad she stayed with the children."

"Yes. I wouldn't have wanted to face any of the charges in that crazed state, either," Alistair said.

"It seems to me there may have been some romantic involvement."

"Really?" he asked with a frown. Templars developing feelings for mages – and vice versa – though not unheard of – was frowned upon. For Cullen, who took his training so seriously, to suddenly break one of the core beliefs...

"Mhmm. But they were both very shy, it seems. Admiring the other from a distance." The bard smiled. "It's beautiful, love is. Sad, how they are now separated."

"What else did you get to know about her?"

"Oh. Basic things. She's a Free Marcher. The Amells are a noble house in Kirkwall, apparently. She has been a part of the Fereldan Circle of Magi since she was five. She was also one of the brightest young mages. She was forced to take the Harrowing – I think it's called? – a few months ago. Wynne says she's the youngest to do so."

She does look rather young. "How old is she?"

"Nineteen."

Alistair rubbed his face. "Dear Maker..." he groaned into his palm. That was too bloody young! Even for a prodigy. Greagoir must've been really paranoid at her growth...

He felt Leliana touch his shoulder soothingly, only for a fleeting second. "Maybe you should talk to her? You could swap stories. Talk about Cullen, perhaps."

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. Tomorrow probably," the man said with a sigh and looked at Leliana. "Do you know what the Harrowing is?"

"I've heard bits and pieces here and there. Something to do with the Fade, yes?"

"Hmm. Mages are connected to the Fade, you see. When they sleep, they can freely traverse there. On the other hand, demons from the Fade may also take over the mage during this time, and so abominations are created," Alistair explained. "The Harrowing is... a ritual. In it, the mage is forcefully sent into the Fade in spirit form to confront a demon. If they can overcome the temptations of said demon, jolly good. If not, and they get taken over." He shrugged. "The templars kill them before they can truly become an abomination."

The quiet gasp from his side told him all he needed to know.

"But that's... that's horrible!"

"Uh-huh, yeah," the almost-templar answered with a click of his tongue. "Pretty bloody horrible."

It was a fate he had been fortunate enough to escape. Unluckily, Cullen was caught right in the bloody middle of it.

Some time had passed before Leliana rekindled their conversation. "You are not sleepy?"

"Sort of, I suppose," Alistair said and yawned. It was a curious coincidence how people always yawned when other people did or even mentioned yawning in general. It was the kind of thing he thought about while pretending to study back at Bournshire. "You?"

"I am," Leliana answered with a yawn of her own. "Who has second watch?"

"Aedan and... her," Alistair replied and picked up his sheathed sword from the ground and onto his lap. "You go wake the witch. I'll go see about our fearless leader. Oh and by the way," he interjected whilst rising to his feet. "Have you heard? Morrigan and him are... ya know."

"Have you nothing better to do than to spread idle gossip?" Leliana chided him amusedly as he held out his hand to her, which she took and pulled herself up.

"Well, excuse you for not being interested in juicy gossip. I shall keep all the latest news to myself from now on."

She playfully punched him on the forearm. "I could always gossip about how our manly templar plays with dolls in his tent."

"They're not dolls, okay?" Alistair protested before sighing and shaking his head. "Will you let this go if I let you play with me?"

She grinned so brightly at him that he thought he would go blind.

"I'll be right back after waking Morrigan!"

The man rubbed his cheek. "Andraste preserve me," he muttered as he watched the bard sprint towards the witch's camp in the distance. Then he went through the folds of Aedan's tent to kick him on the arse.

Well. Spending time with her can't be that bad, right?

A/N: Updating today - 20.12.2015 - because it marks the two year anniversary of the last day of my high school life. So yeah. To everybody who reads this, happy holidays. Have a very merry Christmas, and a happy new year!