Alistair paced on the shore below the Circle Tower, the biting winter wind whipping around him making the water froth. He was impatient to leave. They had already been away from Redcliffe for four days. He was trying not to imagine all of the possible worst case scenarios with the Connor-demon still lose in the castle. A trader who had stopped at the Circle was going to ferry them back to Redcliffe on his boat. The journey would be much shorter this way. They'd be there before nightfall.

Deciding that enough time had passed for Deylan to be ready to leave, Alistair headed back to the boat. He arrived in time to see Ilaria stepping on board with her pack, her long, dark hair whipping in the wind. It took him only a moment to find his fellow Warden.

"Deylan, might I have a moment."

Deylan nodded and followed Alistair down the shore. When Alistair felt they were out of earshot from the boat, he turned to his brother-at-arms.

"What is she doing here?"

Non-pulsed, Deylan replied, "By she I am assuming you mean Ilaria." Alistair nodded his assent. "She offered her help; I agreed."

"Do you really think it's wise to bring another mage along? It's easy enough to explain Wynne and your presence, Wynne being a healer and you a Grey Warden but... well... We already have an apostate traveling with us."

Deylan grinned slightly. "Ilaria is a powerful mage. Her battle skills are impressive. Besides, she can't be an apostate."

Alistair hoped he didn't look as confused as he felt.

Shaking his head, Deylan began to start back to the boat. "Ask her where she comes from; then you'll understand."

Alistair paused for a moment, trying to puzzle out what Deylan meant. Leliana's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Alistair, the boat is ready to leave."

The Warden headed back down the shore to the boat. While most of the passengers had gone below deck to escape the bitter wind, Alistair noticed Ilaria standing at the prow. Her cloak was pulled tight around her. The thick braid down her back rippled in the wind. He leaned against the port side rail wanting to observe her without disturbing her. He noticed that her face turned upward toward the sky and it occurred to him that this was very likely the first time she'd been outside for some time. He felt a pang of sympathy. During his templar training, he'd seen some of what mages experienced but he'd never really thought about what it would be like to be a mage. To be locked away, hidden from the world, removed from home and family... He felt a sudden understanding of why she would want to leave the security of the Circle. Especially after what she experienced the last week. He still didn't care for the idea of traveling with so many mages but he determined that he would be tolerant. After all, she couldn't be as awful as Morrigan.

He turned and looked out over the vast expanse of Lake Calenhad. Worry creased his brow as he thought of Connor, still possessed, back in Redcliffe and of Arl Eamon, lying deathly ill somewhere in the castle. He sent a silent prayer to the Maker that they were returning in time and that the defenses Morrigan and Sten had been left behind to make had been enough to protect what was left of the village he grew up in.

As the sleek boat sailed out into choppy waters, Ilaria began to wonder if this was the right thing to do. She didn't doubt that she needed to leave but she was beginning to feel the guilt of leaving Anders within the Circle. It was so unfair to leave him now, with Neria dead, Deylan a Warden and Jowan on the run. The little family that they had made completely scattered, never to be the same again. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes and she fought to hold them back.

I cannot be weak now! There will be time for tears later. She took a deep breath, the cold air filling her with the resolve she needed not to break. She allowed her thoughts to linger on Anders a moment longer and tried to comfort herself with the idea that he would probably not stay at the Circle long in any case. He was due for another escape attempt. The idea that his escape would probably just end with him holed up at The Pearl in Denerim until the templars caught up, as it had last time, caused her to shake her head, a rueful smirk on her face.

The spray off Lake Calenhad was beginning to seep into her cloak making the wind agonizingly cold. Realizing that it would be foolish to stay out in this weather, she turned to head below deck. She was only halfway down the starboard deck when she noticed Alistair leaning over the port side rail, staring out over the white-capped waves. The stiff set of his shoulders told her that he was worried. She turned to head below when her own loneliness struck her and she wondered why he would be standing out her alone instead of below decks with Deylan and Leliana. They had all seemed friendly enough.

Ilaria pulled her hood up over her damp hair crossed over the deck, finally stopping to stand beside Alistair at the rail. She remained silent for a moment, admiring the dark clouds building over the lake, foretelling a storm.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said softly.

"A storm is rolling in," he responded without turning to her. "We should just make it to Redcliffe before it hits."

"I'm glad of that." There was a period of silence that for some reason wasn't uncomfortable. Ilaria looked up and the man beside her. He was nearly a foot taller than she was and thickly muscled; he had to be to move around in the heavy plate armor he wore. His head was bare and in the soft light she couldn't quite tell but she thought his hair was a dark strawberry-blonde. When he turned and looked at her with his liquid amber eyes, she felt her stomach flutter. He was much more attractive now that he wasn't covered in gore. Focusing on why she'd come over here to begin with, she gently asked, "Are you alright? You seem... tense."

The grin he gave her was an ineffective cover for the concern he was feeling. "You're worried about little, old me? Aww... that's sweet," he teased.

His tone and grin forced a half smile to her lips. Anders would have deflected her in the same way. "Very well, you don't have to tell me. Just offering..."

He sobered slightly before saying, "Thanks. I'm just... wondering what we'll find in Redcliffe when we get back."

"Deylan told me a little about Redcliffe. He mentioned that you knew the Arl and his family. I'm sorry. This must be difficult."

Alistair just nodded. He picked at a splinter of wood on the railing, then asked, "So what's your story?"

"My story?" she chuckled softly. "What has Deylan told you?"

"Nothing really. He hasn't really talked about the Circle much. He mentioned once that he left some friends behind. I'm assuming he meant you. That's about all he said."

Ilaria nodded. "That's sounds like Deylan. You don't get much out of him unless it's necessary." She looked out over the water again. "Yes, he meant me... and a few others. Anders is still back at the Circle. Jowan is on the run... somewhere. And Neria..." The tears burned in her eyes again. "She's gone." She sighed. "Our little family scattered by cruel fate, it seems."

She turned to look at Alistair to find him studying her, an odd look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. Did you say Jowan?"

"Yes. Why?"

"It's odd. I could have sworn that the maleficar in Redcliffe was named Jowan."

Ilaria started. "There is a maleficar in Redcliffe named Jowan?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what Deylan called him," Alistair began but Ilaria had already turned and run to the hatch that would take her below deck. Throwing open the hatch, she ran down the stairs, taking them as quickly as the rocking boat would allow her. The turmoil roiling in her prevented her from enjoying the heat within the belly of the boat and allowed her to ignore the pungent smell of fish. She found Deylan sitting at a table talking to Leliana and Wynne.

"Deylan, is Jowan in Redcliffe?" Her question came out more harshly than she intended.

Though his face remained as impassive as always, she could see a shadow come to his eyes that told her this was something he'd hoped to keep from her. He sighed.

"Yes, Arie, Jowan is in Redcliffe." His voice was level and matter-of-fact.

Hurt swept over her. "Why didn't you tell me?" she choked out.

"Because, it wouldn't change anything." Her eyes drilled into him, pressing the confusion and hurt she felt. "Jowan is a maleficar. He was sent to Redcliffe to poison the Arl. I'm not entirely sure how much he is to blame for what has befallen Redcliffe." He rose and came to stand before her, looking down at her gently. "There's nothing we can do to save him, Arie. He's nearly killed an Arl and was secretly teaching magic. Nothing that we say or do now would prevent the Chantry's justice."

Ilaria looked up at Deylan. Though his face was solemn and composed, her familiarity allowed her to see the pain in his dark-brown eyes and she realized that his hands were tied. Jowan had made is choices and they would have to abide by the consequences unless they wished to share them.

Ilaria's shoulders fell in defeat and, in an uncharacteristically tender gesture, Deylan wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her in close to him. She didn't allow herself the luxury of tears but took comfort in the warm, steadiness of her friend. She was so wrapped in her grief that she didn't hear Alistair clomp down the stairs or see the look of concern he exchanged with Deylan.

Morrigan felt a wave of relief as Deylan and the others, including several Circle mages, entered Redcliffe castle. They'd been gone for nearly four days and her strength was rapidly depleting with the effort of maintaining the shields to prevent the Connor-demon from escaping and wreaking more havoc.

"So you've returned, I see. I suppose it never occurred to you that you should hasten your trip to the Circle with this child-abomination on the loose." Her voice ever maintained its razor-sharp edge.

"For your information," began Alistair, "the Circle was full of..."

"Don't bother, Alistair. I'm sure your well thought of excuses are not going to improve the situation as much as your silence would." She smiled cruelly at the young Warden, arms crossed in front of her. Alistair ground his teeth together and stalked off to the other side of the room.

"I apologize, Morrigan. We were delayed at the Circle," Deylan explained briefly. "This is First-Enchanter Irving," he gestured to a pale, wrinkled man. "He and the other mages are going to begin the ritual so that I can enter the Fade. And this," he said, pulling forward and delicate young mage, "is Ilaria, a friend of mine from the Circle. I'd like for you to take her upstairs so she can reinforce the barrier holding back the demon. I don't want it to try to flee after we start the ritual."

"Perhaps, you'd like me to fetch you your supper as well," the dark-haired witch snapped.

"Now is not the time to be difficult. Please, do as I ask," Deylan responded, a finality to his tone that few would dare to question.

Morrigan looked at the small woman before her with a baleful expression before sighing with irritation. "Follow me."

She never bothered to look back to see if the other woman had followed. Instead, keeping her eyes fully ahead of her, she marched up the stairs to the hallway in which she'd created a barrier. She was momentarily surprised to turn and find the other woman behind her examining the barrier with a studying eye.

"How long have you held this for?" Ilaria asked.

"Four days," Morrigan answered curtly.

"An impressive feat," Ilaria replied sincerely. "I'll add a buffer to it. Hopefully that will allow you relax a little."

Morrigan sneered as the mage beside her readied herself. As Ilaria cast her spell to bolster the shield, Morrigan found herself disconcerted by the feeling of Ilaria's magic. It didn't have the controlled, straight-forward feel to it of the few Circle mages she'd encountered. Instead, it was felt wild and emotional.

"You are not from the Circle," she stated.

Blue-green eyes looked into her yellow, cat eyes. "No, not originally, at least. I was born and educated in Minrathous."

Morrigan felt a mixture of interest and disgust. She had heard stories of the Tevinter Magister's and their power; and of their determination to keep it.

"Tevinter? How came you to Ferelden?"

"I came to Ferelden a few years ago. I've been studying in the Circle since then."

"You willingly entered that prison?" she spat.

"Not without purpose but yes," Ilaria responded calmly.

"Allowing those pathetic excuses for mages and their jailors sway over you would prove you a fool," Morrigan said, turning away.

"Perhaps. I admit that not all of my time there was pleasant but the knowledge I gained is invaluable. And I understand a great deal more about the world outside of Tevinter." She fell silent and the two women stood against opposite walls, each taking mute inventory of the other.

Ilaria broke the silence. "Are you a shape-shifter?"

Morrigan was startled at first but then assumed that Deylan must have told Ilaria about her.

"Why do you ask such a question? Has the Warden not told you of me?"

Ilaria grinned. "Deylan rarely tells more than he must. No, it's your eyes... I've never seen anything like them before. An old tome I read described shape-shifters and the effect of the magic on the mage but I have never encountered anyone capable of such magic. Most mages seem to think the knowledge died out ages ago. I am pleased to see the it still exists somewhere."

"My mother is the source of my abilities and her magic is old indeed." Morrigan studied the woman across from her. Most people would back down from the intensity of her gaze but Ilaria held her ground. "I suppose you are hoping I will share my secrets with you?"

"Not at all. I would not expect you to part with your knowledge unless I had something to offer in return."

Morrigan hid her surprise with a sneer. "I doubt there is anything you could teach me that would be worth the learning."

"That is possible. Though, should you change your mind..." Ilaria looked toward the barrier once again. "This seems strong enough. I'm going downstairs to see if there is anything Deylan needs. It was a pleasure to meet you, Morrigan." The smaller woman ducked her head in a gesture of respect before heading toward the stairs.

Morrigan watched her go with mixed feelings. She could sense a great deal of power within the other mage and this intrigued her. But to have willingly submitted to the Chantry and its sanctimonious templars... Despite her initial desire to simply write of Ilaria as another sheep in the Circle's fold, something told her she should allow more time before making a judgment about this newcomer. Content that the shield was sufficiently reinforced, Morrigan turned and headed downstairs.

Deylan had been within the Fade for nearly three hours. Though he stood unassisted and his eyes were open, it was apparent that he was elsewhere. Alistair had watched Ilaria grow increasingly agitated the more time passed. When Deylan finally returned to himself, she was the first to his side. His pronouncement that the demon had been defeated and that Connor should be himself again was met with sighs of relief. Ilaria didn't leave his side until he'd been tucked away in his room to rest.

Alistair had been trying to sleep for nearly an hour but rest eluded him. Deciding that a late night snack may resolve his problem, he rose and quietly headed toward the kitchen. He had just left his room when the tingling sensation he'd come to recognize as magic rushed up his spine. The magic itself had a rather benign feeling to it. He followed the sensation down the hallway. The doorway to the balcony was cracked open allowing the scent of impending rain to waft over him. He pushed open the door to see Ilaria standing at the edge of the balcony, the dim-light showing her breath fogging in the cold night air.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

She startled at his voice and turned quickly. "Alistair, I... yes, I'm fine. I thought everyone was sleeping. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, can't sleep. I was headed to the kitchen for a snack." She nodded, a distracted look on her face. "Would... you like to join me, Ilaria? It's awfully cold."

It seemed to take a moment for the question to register before she responded. "I... thank you. That's very kind of you." She brushed past him on her way in the door. The scent of her freshly washed hair wafted up to great him. The smell was intoxicating, warm and soft, foreign. He turned and shut the door before he could be distracted by it.

In an attempt to be a gentleman, Alistair held out his arm for her. As her fingers came around and lightly rested on his bare skin, he resisted the urge to yelp at the cold contact. Judging by the temperature of her skin, she'd been outside in the winter air for some time. The torch light in the hallway showed her cheeks and nose to be red with cold.

He set an easy pace in the sleeping quite of castle Redcliffe; they remained silent to avoid waking anyone. The kitchen was lit by the gentle glow of a banked fire. Alistair pulled out a chair at the rough wooden table for Ilaria to sit before ducking into the pantry. He returned a moment later with a platter piled with bread, apples, dried meat and cheese. After setting down the platter, he found a flagon still full of warm, mulled wine. He filled two goblets and the pair ate in silence for several minutes.

"If you don't mind me asking," Ilaria began, "how is it that a Grey Warden knows Arl Eamon's family?"

"Oh, well, the Arl raised me... until I was old enough to be sent off to the Chantry."

"So... are you a relative?"

"Not exactly, no. I'm a bastard. The father-less kind, not the other kind." He gave her a cheeky grin. There was another period of silence while Ilaria chewed, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What about your parents?"

"My mother died when I was very young. And I never really knew my father," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry, it's really none of my business." Ilaria suddenly seemed flustered.

"No, it's alright. It's not like you won't hear more than you probably want to traveling with this bunch anyway. I'm an open book," he winked.

Her smile was sweet but didn't seem to fully touch the sad look in her eyes. "Alright, then, how did a boy sent to the Chantry get to be a Warden?"

"Well, I was never really interested in a life in the Chantry. I believe in the Maker well enough. I just never wanted to devote my life to running Chantry errands. I was all set to take my vows as a templar... please, don't zap me or anything... when Duncan recruited me."

Ilaria's amusement colored her tone. "A templar, huh? Never fear, Alistair, I hold nothing against templars as long as they aren't the nasty sort and you seem decent enough."

"Huh... an interesting opinion for a Circle mage. Usually that sort of confession makes mage's a little jumpy."

"I can see how it would for someone who grew up in the Circle."

"But you didn't?"

"No, actually. I've only been in the Circle for the last three years. I'm from Tevinter."

"I see... So, that's what Deylan meant." Her puzzled expression pushed him to continue. "He said you couldn't be an apostate. I'm guessing he was referring to your citizenship."

"Leave it to Deylan to say just enough to leave you with more questions than you began with." There was a fondness to her tone that made Alistair wonder at her relationship with his fellow Warden.

"You and Deylan are... close?" It was a statement and a question.

"Yes... well, no... not in an intimate sort of way." For some reason this confession brought Alistair a sense of relief. "Deylan is... what I imagine an older brother would be like." A wistful smile spread over her lips. "Anders was always getting us into trouble and Deylan would be there to get us out." Sadness touched her eyes again before she continued. "He'll be a good Warden. Level-headed, diplomatic... he never says much but just seems to exude charm. I think he could sway anyone."

"Maybe... I don't know about Morrigan though."

"She is... abrasive. She's an apostate?"

Alistair snorted. "Yes. Her mother 'gifted' her to our cause after saving us at Ostagar. I don't trust her."

"Trust can be a dangerous thing to give." A hardness came to Ilaria's eyes and her jaw clenched. It passed quickly and she seemed to brighten. "What were the other Wardens like? Most of Tevinter is... unimpressed by the Wardens but my father was fond of them. 'Great and noble warriors,' he always said."

Alistair was quickly distracted by a string of questions about the Wardens and his time with them. He found himself happy and laughing, dazzled by her interest. Time slipped by and before he knew it, the wine and a need for sleep was making him feel light-headed and his thoughts hazy. When Ilaria reached out and gripped his calloused hands with her delicate fingers, the surprise made his stomach flutter pleasantly.

"Thank you for this. It's been a pleasant distraction." Her warm smile sent heat to his cheeks. She rose gracefully. "Good night, Alistair." Her fingers slid slowly from his, as if she was reluctant to leave.

"Good night, Ilaria," he replied and watched her leave. He remained at the table for several minutes before rising and heading toward his room; a silly grin on his face and a giddy feeling bubbling inside him.