I lied XP The Perils of Lampposts isn't in this chapter. It would have been too long.

Thank you to Judy, tysiaathetops, and ImagineBagginsDragon (cool name btw) for reviewing.

Note: qunari refers to a singular qunari, and Qunari refers to the group.

Leliana

From the moment she steps into the tavern, Leliana knows the elven woman is the one from her vision. The light in her eyes is unmistakable, as is the way she holds herself. She walks with purpose, with a sort of childlike wonder that instantly captures Leliana's attention. She's quite pretty too, with her golden-brown hair braided behind her head and her delicate features. She might even be Leliana's type, though she tucks that thought away for later, preferably when they're not under threat of Loghain's guard.

She notices as well the large blond man with grey iron armor who holds a templar shield in on hand and a steel sword in the other. He stands right up beside the elven woman, rigid and tense. On her other side is another man, almost as tall as the blond with dark hair, pale skin and cold, calculating dark eyes. He holds a finely crafted red iron staff with an orange stone nestled at the top between to dragons. A mage, just as the elf no doubt is.

Just behind them is another woman with dark hair and startling yellow eyes, dressed in a rather... provocative way. She holds an iron staff... yet another mage?

Only when the fighting starts does she notice the warhound that seemingly materializes from thin air, but he simply jumped out from behind the blond man and onto the dark-haired leader of Loghain's goons.

With a sweep of his staff, the dark-haired mage knocks the guards to the ground. The woman who stood behind him laughs and shouts, "You will learn to fear me!"

Her hands light up with flames.

Leliana is not without her own skills. It's almost sad how much she missed the rush of battle, the clash of steel. It's thrilling to jump back in, even though she hasn't done it in a while and she's definitely not dressed for it.

When the blond man manages to knock the leader over with a bash of his shield, he cries out and holds up his hands as he scrambles to his feet. "Alright!" he shouts. "You've won! We surrender."

Leliana sheathes her dagger. "Good. They've learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now."

The dark-haired mage steps forward. "They will not report to Loghain; not if I can help it."

"Please! Wait!" the guard begs.

"They have surrendered!" Leliana protests. "They were no match for you! Let them be!"

"They wanted us dead," he snarls.

"But they failed. And I do not wish death on anyone."

"They will receive no mercy from me," he replies coldly, and with a wave of his hand icicles emerge from his outstretched palm, skewering the guard through the chest as Leliana looks on in horror. The remaining two guards scream and scramble, but two quick spells from the two dark-haired mages end them.

"Daylen," the elven woman snaps.

The man, Daylen apparently, turns. "If they returned to Loghain, we would be bringing the wrath of the entire nation upon us. This way, we have much more time before Loghain discovers we survived."

She sighs, scowling, but does not say anything more.

Leliana steps forward. "I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."

Daylen opens his mouth, but the elf cuts him off. "I appreciate what you tried to do."

"I know that you did what you had to," Leliana tells Daylen. "I do wish they had backed down, however. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sister of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

"My name is Avina," the elf introduces herself. "This is Daylen, Alistair, Morrigan, and Griffon."

Leliana nods politely to the others. "They said you're Grey Wardens. You will be battling darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do?" she asks. "I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."

Avina leans on her staff. "We will need help, that's true."

"That, and the Maker wants me to go with you," Leliana blurts, and immediatly berates herself for not thinking. Now they will no doubt think she's crazy.

Avina's forehead crumples with confusion. "Can you... elaborate?"

Leliana takes a breath, looking at her shoes. "I-I know that sounds... absolutely insane - but it's true! I had a dream... a vision!"

"More crazy?" Alistair comments. "I thought we were all full up."

"Just..." Leliana starts desperately. "Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos... will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help."

Before anyone else in the group can say anything, Avina nods. "Very well. We will not turn help away when it is offered."

"Wait," Daylen protests. Avina rounds on him.

"I am a Grey Warden, and part of this group. I am entitled to making decisions too," she snaps. Daylen stares at her in awe for a moment, then scowls and crosses his arms.

"Fine," he says flatly.

"Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than mother thought," Morrigan says casually. Leliana isn't quite sure who she's talking to.

Leliana smiles brightly. "Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down."

Sten

"You aren't one of my captors," he accuses the elven saarebas. At his deep, gravely tone she looks up at him curiously, her silvery blue eyes filled with awe.

"You are a prisoner?" she asks. "Who put you here?"

Sten narrows his violet eyes. "I am in a cage, am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry."

"The revered mother said he slaughtered an entire family," comes a thick accent. Though Sten isn't quite used to this foreign tongue, he can tell the woman speaking is also a foreigner. "Even the children."

The dark-haired human male looks impressed, as does the female dark-haired saarebas. The orange haired female, the one with the accent, looks frightened, and the ingnorant-looking blond stands neutrally beside her.

"It is as she says," he tells their group solemnly. "I am Sten of the Beresaad - the vanguard - of the Qunari peoples."

"I am Daylen," the dark-haired male says. "We are pleased to meet you."

Sten sighs. "You mock me. Or perhaps you show manners I have not come to expect from your kind."

"This," says the scantily clad saarebas. "Is a proud and powerful creature, left to be killed by the darkspawn. If you cannot find a use for him, I'd suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone."

"Mercy?" the blond man says dubiously. "I wouldn't have expected that from you."

The saarebas sneers. "I'd also suggest Alistair take his place in the cage."

The man, Alistair apparently, snorts. "Yes, that's what I would have expected." He scratches the back of his neck. "So, uhm, what exactly are you doing in there?"

"Sitting."

"Why?"

"I have been convicted of murder," Sten says bluntly.

That seems to shut the man up.

"How long have you been here?" the elven woman asks. If Sten is not mistaken, she is... concerned for him.

"Twenty days, now. I shouldn't last much longer. Another week, at most."

She gapes in horror.

The man called Daylen steps forward. "Aren't you interested in seeking atonement?"

"Death will be my atonement."

"There are other ways to redeem yourself," Daylen mutters.

Sten lifts an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"You could help us defend Ferelden against the Blight," Daylen states.

"The Blight?" Sten ponders. That must mean one of them is a Grey Warden. "Are you a Grey Warden then?"

"Yes," Daylen admits.

"My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill," Sten explains. "Though I suppose not every legend is true."

"To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the darkspawn..." the accented woman trails off. "No one deserves that, not even a murderer."

Alistair

Leliana joining the group is unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome by Alistair. So far, she seems like a kind, faithful woman with a mysterious past and incredible skill with a bow.

Sten, however, only makes Alistair uneasy. He was sitting in that cage, without food and water for Maker knows how long, and yet as soon as they let him out he's ready for battle. More than a little unnerving too that he slaughtered a family and admits to it.

Avina stands by her decision to bring Leliana along, and Daylen stands by his decision to recruit Sten. The tension between the two leaders is palpable even as they set up camp for the night.

Avina takes the first watch, and before Alistair can say anything Leliana volunteers as well. He isn't happy about this, and he doesn't know why.

He can hear them chattering quietly as he falls asleep.

When he wakes, it's he and Daylen's turn to keep watch as Avina and Leliana go to sleep. Unlike Alistair and Morrigan, Avina doesn't have a tent. When he shoots her sleeping form a questioning glance, Daylen sighs and explains.

"She'd never been outside before. And the stars, they're one of the most beautiful things about the outside world."

Instead of actually watching the trail in or sharpening his blade or even conversing with Daylen or Bodahn, Alistair spends most of his watch watching her.

So when her features crumple and her lips part in a silent scream, he sees, and he knows she's having a nightmare.

She rolls around, thrashing slightly, before sitting up with a gasp. She's sweaty, her hair partly undone and hanging in wispy strands over her forehead. She clutches at her heart, slowly looking up to meet Alistair's gaze.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

She sighs, her hair flying up and then slowly back into her face. It makes him want to laugh, but it also makes him want to tuck it behind those adorable ears of hers. "Must've been something I ate," she breathes.

He chuckles. "Drank, more like. As in the tainted blood, remember? You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was. Hearing them. The archdemon, it... 'talks' to the horde, and we feel it just as they do. That's why we know this is really a Blight."

She places her hands behind her to hold her up. "The archdemon? Is that the dragon?"

"I don't know if it's really a dragon," he admits. "But it sure looks like one. But yes, that's the archdemon. It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens say they can understand the archdemon a bit, but I sure can't.

"Anyhow," he continues. "When I heard you thrashing around, I thought I should tell you. It was scary at first for me, too."

She smiles then, and Alistair can almost swear he feels the warmth of it on his face. Or maybe that's just a blush. "Thank you, Alistair," she tells him earnestly. "I appreciate it."

He grins back at her. "That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners."

She laughs, and his grin widens as he stands. "Anyhow, you're up right? Let's pull up camp and get a move on." He offers her his hand, and she takes it without hesitation. He pulls her to her feet just as Leliana pokes her head out of her tent, and he reluctantly lets her go.

The road to Redcliffe is, in a word, dull. True, it's not as far as Lothering was from Ostagar, but unfortunately with the new additions everyone seems afraid to speak. No one says a word as they trudge down the path.

At least, until Avina turns to him.

"So, what does a templar do?" she asks suddenly. For a moment, he blanches and glances around. But Daylen and Morrigan at the front either don't hear them or don't care, Leliana is quietly singing, and Sten, who brings up the rear, does not seem interested in anything at all.

"Well," he begins carefully. "Essentially, they're trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you the templars exist to defend, but don't let them fool you. They're an army. The other main purpose for a templar is, of course, to hunt mages. To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells."

Instead of horrified, Avina looks intrigued. "So templars use magic themselves?"

He purses his lips. "You could call it that, sure. The Chantry doesn't look on it the same way, however, since really our talent only work on mages. Against a regular person, I'm just a... guy in a metal suit."

She laughs for a moment, then looks at him seriously. "Have you hunted many mages?"

"No," he says truthfully. "I never actually became a full templar. Duncan recruited me before I took my vows. I was only present during one Harrowing. That was all I needed, too. I don't know how anyone could get through that. The girl they tested... she had a demon put inside her, to see if she could resist. And she couldn't. We had to... end it quickly. I have to say I didn't have much interest in becoming a templar after that."

She tilts her head to the side. "It sounds like the templars could run the Chantry."

He shakes his head slightly. "You'd think that, but it's not so. The Chantry keeps a close reign on it's templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magical talents, you see... which means we become addicted. And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves... well, I'm sure you can put two and two together."

Strangely, this is the moment she looks horrified. She gapes at him, her eyebrows drawn down. "That's horrible! I can't believe they would do that!"

His lips tug upward at the corner. "Well, they do it. And they feel perfectly justified. You don't need lyrium in order to learn the templar talents. Lyrium just makes templars talents more effective. Or so I was told. Maybe it doesn't even do that. The Chantry doesn't usually let their templars get away, either, so they can spread their secrets. I'm a bit of an exception. Lucky me."

And he expects this to be the end of that conversation, but she doesn't turn away.

"So what about this Arl Eamon?" She presses. "He raised you?"

"Did I say that?" he wonders. "I meant that dogs raised me. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact.

"Really?" she challenges playfully. "That must have been hard for them."

"Well, they were flying dogs, you see," he continues. "Surprisingly strict parents too, and devout Andrastians to boot."

She snorts, trying to contain herself. "Uh-huh, raised by devout, flying dogs. I see."

He pretends to think about it. "Or did I dream all of that? Funny the dreams you'll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground, isn't it?" He chuckles to himself. "Are... you having strange dreams?"

She smiles wryly. "Only ones where we're making mad love in your tent."

He stumbles in his tracks, his face flooding with warmth all the way to his ears. It takes him a moment to remember how to walk. "I..." he gulps. "Oh... I think I... completely lost my train of thought... Oh, there it is. Let's see. How do I explain this? I'm a bastard." He can tell she's about to say something, so he cuts her off. "And before you make any smart comments I mean the fatherless kind. My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe Castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father, but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me, and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and don't blame him any more for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

She nods in understanding. "But you did then, I take it?"

He sighs. "I was young and resentful and not very pious. Of course I blamed him. I remember screaming at him like a little child... well, I was a child, so I doubt he was surprised." That was far from his proudest moment. "Arl Eamon eventually married a young woman from Orlais, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her. Anyhow, the new arlessa resented the rumors that pegged me as his bastard. They weren't true, but of course they existed. The arl didn't care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well. The arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me."

Avina shakes her head sadly. "What an awful thing to do to a child."

"Maybe," he muses. "She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet. I remember I had an amulet... with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered." He wipes a hand over his eyes. "Stupid, stupid thing to do. The arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything... and eventually he just stopped coming."

She places a hand on his arm. "You were young."

"And raised by dogs," he says. "Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that. I dunno. All I know is that the arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. He was also King Cailan's uncle, so he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. Anyway..." he pauses. "That's all there is to the story."

About three quarters of the way there, they stop at a stream to drink and wash the sweat and blood from their bodies. They take turns, two at a time, and somehow Alistair ends up with Avina.

He wades into the stream until it reaches his knees and takes off the top part of his armor while Avina fills their canteens. He doesn't notice her watching him until she giggles as he bends over to wash the blood from it.

He turns. "What?"

Instead of answering him, she leans forward, gazing up at him. He can feel the tips of his ears heating up as her gaze wanders over his torso...

Splash!

He gapes at her as the cold water drips down the fabric of his undershirt, soaking the material and chilling his skin. Avina howls with laughter, shaking the moisture off her hand. Alistair glares daggers at her.

"Why you..." he trails off, mock-furiously. Then he leans down, dipping his own hand in the water, and throws it at her.

The water hits her right on the front, soaking half of her robes. She squeals and falls back on her butt.

And from there it escalates until she's using magic to pelt him with water and he grabs her up, bridal style, and dumps her into the water. She screeches and laughs, gasping for breath, and Alistair has tears forming in his eyes from laughing so hard.

She throws up her hands. "I give! I give!"

And the two collapse on the shore, breathing heavily.

He turns to look at her. "I'm never washing with you present again," he fake-threatens.

She chuckles, looking back. And for a moment, neither of them say a word.

Then, quietly, she says, "Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"

"Not unless they were asking me for a favor," he says wryly. "Well, there was that one time in Denerim, but those women were... not like you. Why?" he asks. "Is this your way of telling me you think I'm handsome?"

Her cheeks tinge ever so slightly pink. "You know you're handsome, Alistair."

He grins. "Maybe. It doesn't hurt to have a pretty girl say that, though. Beats being run through with a sword any day."

She laughs again, and he thinks his heart stutters.

"So," he says. "Is this the part where I get to say the same?"

"Not unless you don't think so."

"Oh, I think so," he assures her. "I'll just spring it on you when it's a surprise!"

He hears a gagging sound and turns to see Morrigan and Daylen, not so patiently waiting their turn. Daylen is smirking, but Morrigan looks like she's smelling something awful.

As they grab their things, Alistair feels like he's walking on air.

Tel'abelas.

Next chapter: The Bastard Prince