Chapter 15

In retrospect, sparring with Leliana had not been among his more bright ideas. The Orlesian system of pugilism relied entirely too much on kicking, something that while being allowed in Ferelden, was rather frowned upon as a practice.

Solona had graciously conjured up some ice for him, and so Alistair sat icing his swollen shin after being ridiculed for losing to a woman three times in as many days. The most amused by his misfortune had been Morrigan, unsurprisingly, and Alistair suspected deep down that the witch was starting to like Leliana more now.

Women, he thought with a roll of his eyes. So... so...

From the other side of the camp, he heard Leliana's laughter and he looked up to catch a glimpse of her laughing behind her fist.

...so pretty.

But then he saw that she'd been laughing at something Zevran had said and his mood instantly soured. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man huffed as he watched the elven assassin engage Leliana in animated conversation.

It was bad enough that they had brought him along after he had tried to kill them. Kill. Them.

Though Zevran revealed later that it was Loghain and Howe that sent him, that he himself wasn't loyal to them, Alistair couldn't feel easy in his mind.

At the end of the day, Zevran's words were just that: words. There was no proof to back it up. He probably sweet-talks everybody for a living! What was Aedan thinking?!

Said man was currently seated beside him, leant up against an oak tree, exhausted after a sparring session with Sten. He'd been trying to improve at his longsword skills, which were severely deficient. While lethal with sword and dagger and sword and buckler, Aedan's expertise with other battlefield weapons was sorely lacking.

Alistair himself had been drilling him relentlessly in proper shield tactics for three days. It helped that Aedan was a quick study. He had that bottled up rage fuelling him to be better and better. Better yet, he had learnt to channel that rage without burning up his mind. He had gone from being an explosive yet blunt force weapon to a sharp and precise one. That made all the difference in the world.

Alistair was proud of him, too. But that didn't stop him from being annoyed every time he put his eyes on Zevran.

So when he threw a pebble at Aedan's face, it was completely warranted. At least in his mind it was.

"What was that for?"

"Oh I just felt like it."

Aedan shot him a dark look. "I get that you're frustrated at not being able to best a girl, Alistair, but take that out on someone else. Or yourself. It helps."

Alistair's cheeks went crimson. "I can't believe-"

"That's what you get," the other man answered and then sighed. "Still don't trust Zevran, huh?"

Alistair could not remember another time when he had been so glad at the change of the subject. "Nope," he answered.

"Alistair, we're Grey Wardens. We-"

"-take help wherever we get it from, I know. Okay? I know. It's just that-"

"It's just that you have a rather romanticised and idealistic notion of the Grey Wardens," Aedan finished for him, causing Alistair to look at him questioningly. Aedan shrugged. "It's true, isn't it? You idolise Duncan, and rightly so. He was a mentor to you and you looked up to him and because he represented the Wardens, you glorify the Wardens subconsciously. Is that not so?"

Alistair stopped his icing and knit his eyebrows together. He didn't say anything.

Aedan went on: "Honestly, I didn't even like him that much. He conscripted me as my father lay dying on the floor. Arrow to the gut, Alistair. You don't die instantly. You bleed out, the wound festers, and pus oozes out and you get a fever and you suffer for three or four days before you actually die." Alistair winced. "My mother decided to stay behind. Buy us some time to escape. I was... content to have died there, with my parents. After all, what did I even have left to live for?" a dark chuckle escaped him and he closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "But... Duncan came to Highever to find a recruit, and he did, whatever it took. He pushed his sentimentality aside and did what was best for his order. I didn't like him then, but now... after all this... I can understand why he did what he did."

He then turned his head to offer Alistair a tight smile. "If you really idolise Duncan, Alistair, do as he did. Be a Warden he would be proud of. I'm sure he was radically different before joining the Wardens, but years of service, it does that to you. He didn't let anything deter him from his duty. You shouldn't either."

It took some time to digest all of what Aedan had said. He'd heard snippets of what had transpired at Highever, but Aedan seldom spoke of it. Alistair didn't expect a retelling in such a calm and detached fashion, neither was he ready to be psychoanalysed by his friend. While he had been kind, Alistair knew he had no reason to be. Duncan was a sore subject to them both... for different reasons.

Heaving a sigh, he went back to icing his swollen shins. "You're rather clinical in your analyses."

"Why thank you."

"But we're still keeping an eye on him, right? Zevran?"

"Definitely. But you're also keeping your eyes on her, aren't you?"

Alistair didn't like the sudden sparkle in Aedan's eyes. Nor did he like the all-knowing smirk on the man's face.

Tread lightly, the voice in his head told him.

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

Aedan chuckled and shook his head. "You must really be blind if you think nobody in the party has noticed your... closeness with our fair bard."

"What're you implying, exactly?"

"That you spend a lot of time with her, that's all."

"That means nothing."

"Didn't even imply anything, Alistair," Aedan said with a chuckle and closed his eyes again.

Alistair pouted at Aedan's direction and craned his neck to look at Leliana again. She had Zevran's dagger in her hand, giving it a few twists and spins while the assassin explained something.

"I like talking to her," he said suddenly. "She's nice and kind and we have some things in common. She even likes my jokes. I like her stories, too."

"And you're jealous that she's talking to Zevran?"

Alistair's head snapped towards Aedan faster than it had ever snapped towards anybody.

"What? Jealous? What? Me? Pfft. No..."

Aedan merely nodded and rose to his feet, dusting himself down. "Whatever you say, my friend. You want to take first watch or cook?"

"I... shall take watch, yes."

"For the best," Aedan said and stretched his back, popping some vertebrae. He then bent down to pick up his practice longsword. "Don't worry. I'll be endorsing your romantic quest."

Alistair nearly choked on his spit. "By Andraste's charred tits, man!"

"You ever need me to pass on love letters, you let me know."

"Just go away."

Left to his devices, the blond warrior sighed and rubbed his face. Did everybody really think there was something in the wind between Leliana and him?

But that's preposterous! There is no way she'll ever like somebody like me romantically...

It was a fool's notion. Aedan's pragmatism had rubbed off on him.

Alistair was about to get up and go to the nearby pond to splash some water over his body and wash off the sweat when he paused suddenly.

Wait a moment... am I actually... hopeful? When did that happen?!

It was true that Leliana was a pretty girl, with a very... well-proportioned body which was hard not to look at...

So maybe I stare at her sometimes. Aedan ogles Morrigan all day!

Alistair rose and stomped over to the pond grumpily, kneeling down and splashing water on his face and over his head. He then pulled off his tunic and squeezed out the sweat before dunking it repeatedly in the cool water. Draining the water out of the cloth, he draped it around his neck and splashed handfuls of water over his chest and armpits, washing himself thoroughly.

It helped him cool down and that made it comparatively easier to think.

He then sat cross legged at the edge of the water and thought.

The sun had disappeared over the western horizon, though the light still remained. It would still take at least a couple of hours for it to become dark. The winds were chilly, doubly so for Alistair as he sat there dripping with water. But at least the winds stopped him from having to wipe himself dry.

Running a hand through his wet hair, the man sighed. While it was true that Leliana was a very attractive woman – and he was guilty of staring at her sometimes – Alistair hadn't had the time to rationalise his sentiments.

He had meant what he had said to Aedan. He really did enjoy their twilight talks. She was nice and kind and enjoyed his jokes. She even told him that his jokes were underappreciated.

She had helped him immensely with her moral support and guidance. She was his good friend, and perhaps even his philosopher. It would've been hard for him to cope with everything going on if she weren't there with him. She wasn't much older than him – he hoped – but she had seen the world. She was wise. She was smart. He respected and admired her.

That didn't mean he was attracted to her.

Or did it?

And even if it did, what had he done to help her? What had he done to even think about deserving her affection? In most cases, it was him spitting out his problems, it was him complaining about being miserable. Had he ever taken the time to consider that she was having a hard time with it all as well?

...have I ever tried?

Alistair bit down on his lower lip at this complicated turn his thoughts had taken. Why is nothing ever simple?

Perhaps it was his templar training coming back to bite him in the arse. Perhaps it was his low self-esteem. Alistair was aware of his numerous faults, and he bitterly added self-centeredness to the list.

Deeming himself sufficiently dried, Alistair rose to his feet and made his way back to camp wearily. He was not looking forward to reaching Redcliffe, but it couldn't be helped. Duty came before sentimentality.

Whatever he felt for Leliana would have to be stomped down upon. At least until he deemed himself worthy of her affections.

He clenched his jaw reflexively.

And that starts with telling her about... myself.

Fuck.