Chapter 4

Solona Amell had become the unofficial princess of their little brood.

Leliana wasn't at all opposed to the development. It was always nice to have more girls around. And Solona was a darling!

Having spent all of her life within the confines of the Circle, she was utterly oblivious to the sights and sounds the world had to offer. Being a woman of the world, she was well equipped to quench most – if not all – of her curiosities. From history to wives tales and from religion to politics, the bard had covered a plethora of topics in the week they had been on the road together. Orzammar loomed ever closer, and she couldn't wait to go on a voyage of discovery along the stone streets of the dwarven capital with her newest friend.

But that's probably another week from now.

As she left Solona's tent after regaling her with the tale of Aveline and stepped into the quiet stillness of the Fereldan night, Leliana took a while to gaze up at the stars. This close to the Frostback mountains, the stars seemed to shimmer even more. The air was crisp and clear, and she filled her lungs with it, exhaling from her mouth.

And just across the mountains lay Orlais... and bad memories.

Shaking off the thoughts of the past, the redhead scanned the campsite for the other members of their party. Wynne had already turned in for the night, Maker bless her. Sten was quietly meditating outside his tent, legs crossed over each other and palms resting on knees. Alistair had spread his templar training to the other warriors after Aedan had argued that nullifying magic would be a handy tool for them against Darkspawn Emissaries.

Aedan himself was seated beside Morrigan at her camp, chatting quietly. Leliana smiled to herself. Solona's presence had somewhat cracked Aedan's tough exterior. Instead of being by himself, he now took the time to make conversation with others, showing interest in their lives, beliefs and thoughts. He was growing and evolving as a leader as well as a person, though he kept his own past securely lidded.

Ah, but it was always a pleasure to see love blossom between people! She honestly hoped for the best for Morrigan. The woman was carefully aloof, and though her words were barbed, Leliana could sense the awkward loneliness behind them.

She is adept at keeping others at a distance. It's good that she's opening up to Aedan, at least.

Finally, her gaze landed on Alistair. The warrior had taken first watch, and was in the midst of an animated conversation with Aedan's mabari.

Making up her mind to accidentally overhear, the bard stealthily approached the two.

"Do you really know what's going on here? The Blight, the civil war... I really wonder how much of it you understand," Alistair was telling the dog, who in turn wagged his tail happily.

Leliana giggled to herself.

"We're all special, you see... big parts to play." He continued. "Even you. Especially you, in some ways. You are the mabari. You guard one of the most important people –"

Here, the dog, upon hearing about his master – and having spotted Leliana creeping up on Alistair – lifted his head off his paws and barked excitedly. No doubt he smelt the prank about to happen.

Alistair, clueless, scratched the nape of his neck. "What?"

Instead of giving Leliana away, the dog rose to his full height and started jumping around, keeping the warrior's attention fixed on him.

Intelligent boy!

"You... you want to play?" the blond man ventured a guess. "But I'm talking! Why doesn't anyone want to hear me talk?" he whined. Leliana couldn't see his face, but she knew he was pouting.

"Ah, but I do," she whispered sensually right behind his ear. The reaction was instantaneous and utterly satisfying.

"Mummy!" Alistair yelped and sprang from where he sat and scarpered off to hug the mabari just as Leliana burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"You're evil!" he wailed upon realising what had just transpired, now pouting fully. "How many times do I have to tell you to not do that, woman?!"

"I'm sorrrriieeee," Leliana choked out, rolling on the ground and clutching her stomach as tears rolled down her face. It didn't help that Aedan's mabari had started to energetically lick her face.

"You're just mean!"

"And you're adorable," she said finally after sitting up, taking the dog's face in her hands and squeezing his cheeks. For some reason, she never could remember his name...

"...was that aimed at me, or the dog?"

"However you want to see it, Alistair," she replied heartily in a sing-song voice, scratching the big dog behind the ears as he placed his great head on her lap.

"Sure, take her side, Barkspawn," Alistair told the mabari accusingly, earning himself a muffled whine. "Traitor dog, you are."

"His name is... Barkspawn?"

"Well, no. Not technically, at least." Alistair hiked his shoulders. "Aedan named him Lucien. It's just so bland. Barkspawn is way more interesting. You like Barkspawn more than Lucien too, don't you?"

Lucien – or Barkspawn – merely whined again, eyes closed from her scratching. Leliana giggled.

"I guess he just really likes you," Alistair mused and plopped down with his back to the fire, sitting across from her. "But seriously. What must I do to stop you from traumatising me every bloody night? It's not funny, you know."

"It is to me."

"Well, find some other means of amusement, woman. Otherwise you'll have to prepare for a funeral."

"That's no problem," Leliana smirked. "I am well versed in the Maker's chants. I'll give you a proper send-off, my friend, don't you worry."

A long pause. "Oh."

Leliana couldn't help but laugh at his pout. It was surprising to her how easily these bouts of genuine laughter came these days. The days spent in Lothering, though peaceful, were quiet.

Alistair had said some time ago that there was a certain allure to danger. Leliana couldn't agree more. From the ripe young age of sixteen, she had flirted with danger, and it had been utterly exhilarating. Traversing the far corners of Thedas with Tug, Sketch and Marjolaine, the thrill of the Game and the rush of success – she remembered the feeling well. To her old self, the Game had been fun. Who would have thought that she would someday call creeping up on someone and scaring them fun?

Ah, how time changes one's outlooks on life.

Her reminiscing was brought to a close when she heard Barkspawn – Lucien, she reminded herself – whine slightly. Only then did she realise that her fingers had stilled in his coat, and that the dog was complaining.

"Sorry about that," she whispered to the hound and resumed her efforts.

"Something on your mind?"

"Hmm. Just... thinking," she answered carefully. She didn't want to burden Alistair with her past. Not yet, if ever. The man had enough on his plate already. "Being so close to the Frostbacks, I was just thinking about my days in Orlais."

Alistair nodded. "What's it like in Orlais? Is it all festoons and frills and shoes and pudding and – let's not forget it – obnoxious nobles like I've been told? Or have I been living a lie and need to prepare for an identity crisis?"

Leliana couldn't help but laugh at that. She rather liked his way of speech. It was both entertaining and endearing at the same time. "I wouldn't say you're completely wrong, no. Val Royeaux is rather vibrant."

"And do you miss the vibrancy of... I'm not even going to try and pronounce that."

"Val Royeaux," Leliana repeated with a smile, uttering the name slowly. "And how do I say it. Val Royeaux is her own person, her people little more than decorations. It's in stark contrast to other cities all over Thedas, where the people are the life-blood and give character to the city.

"In Val Royeaux, there was always music, you see. Quiet refrains and triumphant choruses, streaming from the multitude of windows. But above all else was the Chant-" Alistair rolled his eyes. "-coming from the Grand Cathedral. It was magnificent. Ah, but it would take me a day or two to talk about Orlais – her golden fields, her lush meadows..."

"Dainty, ribbon clad shoes with tapered heels," the blonde warrior supplied innocently.

"Well, yes. Have I told you about that?"

"Nah. Lady Isolde – arl Eamon's wife – is Orlesian. I've seen shoes, Leli. Shoes with embroidery, shoes smelling of pudding, shoes as large and heavy as bricks... bloody hell, it was frightening."

"Well, sometimes a girl just wants pretty feet, you know?"

"No, actually. And I don't think I'd want to know."

"Ah, but you can't mingle with high society in bad shoes." At Alistair's incredulous expression, she shrugged and continued, "Orlais is very fashionable. But it also has its positives and negatives, just like any other. Sometimes I miss it dearly, and sometimes I'm glad I'm rid of it."

"Is that why you left Orlais, then?" Alistair asked after a slight pause. "Because you got sick of it?"

"Among other reasons. You see, Ferelden is my homeland. My mother is Fereldan."

"Really?"

The bard nodded, fondling the ears of the almost-asleep hound. "My mother, Oisine, was from Denerim. She served an Orlesian noblewoman back during the days of the Orlesian occupation. However, when Orlais was defeated and the common started to detest the presence of any Orlesian-"

"The lady had to pack up her kitbag and carted off your mother to Orlais," Alistair said with a nod.

Leliana grinned. "Yes. I was born in Orlais, but my mother used to always tell me stories about Ferelden. She missed it, I think."

"Well of course! Who wouldn't miss bland soups and the smell of wet dogs? Your mum was Fereldan through and through, mmmhmm."

"I like to think so," the redhead said quietly. "She died when I was very young, though. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her, for I had nobody else."

"Oh. Uh, I'm sorry to hear that. For what it's worth, at least."

"Thank you. That means more than you think." Leliana smiled at him. "She was quite old then, you see, and had me learn music and dance to entertain her." After a pause, she said, "It's unfair. I have more memories of Cecilie than my own mother."

She didn't mean to sound pathetic. But once this topic was brought up, it was very hard to contain the barrage of emotions. Leliana had been trained to keep feelings separated from actions, but some things couldn't be so easily compartmentalised.

"Surely, you must remember something about her, at least?"

Well.

"The only thing I remember is her scent, strange as it sounds," she replied. "She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. They were these small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a very sweet fragrance."

"Ah," Alistair said. "Andraste's Grace."

That took the redhead by surprise. She hadn't expected Alistair of all people to be knowledgeable about flowers. "You know it?"

"Mmm yeah. They used to grow in and around Redcliffe," he replied awkwardly. "The stablemaster would make me walk the horses sometimes, and I'd pick some, make a rudimentary bouquet out of them, and hang them in my quarters. It beats smelling of horse excrement any day, I'll have you know."

Leliana crinkled her nose. "You say this arl Eamon raised you, yes?"

"Oh did I say that?" Alistair said rather seriously, stretching his legs out before him. "I meant dogs raised me. A whole damn pack of giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels."

Leliana snickered. "Oh really? That must have been so very hard for them."

"Well, they were flying dogs, you see," the almost-templar replied, waving his arms around and widening his eyes to better convey the narrative. "Surprisingly strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians to boot."

"Oh? Were they now?"

"Mhmm. They make a great big pile of cheese, too. Funny, but you could never mention cheese to them. If you did, they'd growl and chase after you and take a chunk out of your drawers." Then thoughtfully: "Or did I dream all of that? Knowing myself as well I do, I wouldn't put it past myself."

Placing an elbow on her knee and supporting her chin on her palm, Leliana smiled softly at him. "I do wonder how you got so good at deflecting questions with humour."

"Years upon years of practice," the man said with a good natured chuckle. Then he sighed and folded a leg atop the other. "How do I explain this? Well, I'm a bastard, and no, the fatherless kind. So no smart comments from you, hah!"

The exclamation caused Barkspawn to growl softly, and Alistair frowned, reducing the volume of his voice with a muffled apology.

"I completely lost my train of thought. I had a few witty comments planned too," he said forlornly before sighing. The man then breathed in and out a few times and rolled his shoulders, relaxing his body. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot more serious.

Leliana liked his serious voice better.

"My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle, but she died when I was very young, so I never knew her. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in and put a roof over my head. He didn't have to, but he did anyway. And for that, I respect the man." With a shrug, he added, "And neither do I blame him for sending me off to the Chantry when I was old enough."

"Surely he must have liked you well enough to have taken you in," Leliana said. "Why did he send you away?"

"Hmm. There were rumours, you see. Rumours about how I was Eamon's bastard. As you can imagine, those didn't go over very well with his new Orlesian bride. The arl didn't care, but she did. So when I was ten, I was shipped off to Bournshire. Good thing too. Arlessa Isolde hated me. She had all but told me to my face that I wasn't to consider the castle my home."

The bard grew more and more infuriated at the ill-treatment Alistair had to endure in his youth. No wonder he's well withdrawn behind his shield of humour.

"That's... that's disgusting," she said finally, shaking her head to further communicate her displeasure. "That's no way to treat a child!"

A shrug. "Maybe. She was threatened by my presence, I can see that now. Can't say I blame her. She probably lay awake at night wondering whether there was truth to the rumours." He chuckled. "You know, I'm actually proud I deprived her of sleep."

Maker, but he was too nice!

"You are truly blessed to have the strength of character to be capable of forgiveness, Alistair."

The man merely waved it off. "I don't know about that. I'm plenty vengeful. I just don't hold petty grudges. Besides, I wasn't always this way," he explained. "I remember I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. It was my mum's, actually. Only thing I had of her. I was so... so furious at having been sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered."

Sighing heavily, Alistair ran a hand through his hair carelessly. "Stupid, stupid thing to do. Anyway, the arl came by the monastery to see how I was a few times, but I was stubborn. I hated it there, and blamed him for everything." Another shrug. "Eventually, he just stopped coming."

He then placed his hands on the grass and leaned back, looking up at the sky. "That's all there is to that story."

"You were young, Alistair. It's natural to lash out like that when young," Leliana tried to comfort him. She would have given him a hug, but Barkspawn had fallen asleep on her lap. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand over his reassuringly, giving him a soft smile. "It wasn't your fault. So don't beat yourself up over it, yes?"

Alistair's head snapped down to look at her as soon as their hands made contact, and for a moment, she thought his face flushed ever so slightly. Confused, she inclined her head to the side gently.

Was it something I said?

"Well," the man said after clearing his throat, meeting her smile with a cheeky, childish grin. "I was raised by devout, flying dogs, so that may have influenced my behaviour just a tad."

"At least you've regained your good humour," she said with a grin of her own.

"Hmm. I may as well have been raised by dogs, the way I acted. But maybe that's how all bastards act. I don't know."

"One of the many mysteries of Thedas, indeed."

"Heh. That's a good one. I'll have to keep that in mind," Alistair said as he got up and sat himself down next to her, though still a respectable distance away. "And speaking of mysteries, do you have any mystery stories to tell? I do so adore a good dose of suspense."

The bard couldn't help but giggle at his childishness. He's adorable!

"Of course you do," she said and ruffled his hair. "Well the night's still young, and the atmosphere is perfect. Let me tell you about the notorious Fereldan serial-killer simply known as The Ripper..."

A/N: I'm sorry, but I was watching a playthrough of the Jack the Ripper DLC for Assassin's Creed: Syndicate when I wrote this. That was the only ending I could think of at the time and was too lazy to edit it later. Ehe...