Yes, if you are wondering, I made up the elvish in the last chapter. ^^
I realise this isn't exactly cannon but please bear with me. I forgot to add some stuff to the other chapters. Alistair fluff ahead!
Asleena had battled through the lair for days, she had the bruises and slashes to prove it. But, finally, they had stumbled across something of consequence; A stone about the size of her fist, filled with ruby blood. When Asleena cautiously touched it, she felt a presence, panicked and frightened by her intrusion. She focused on soothing it, attempting to communicate. She felt a deep and longing desire to end her own life and realised she was sharing feelings with the life gem. She managed to understand that it would trade important knowledge for its own end. In her mind's eye, she saw legions of warriors, wearing armour and wielding both sword and magic. The life gem claimed it was the soul of an elf, the last of its brethren, of an order of magic wielding fighters called Arcane Warriors. Asleena could not resist its distress call and took the gem to the pedestal it specified. She felt a moment of pure bliss and light radiated from the gem. Then, it shattered, tiny shards of the stone splintering the pedestal. In the exact moment it burst, Asleena felt the consciousness give her all of its memories.
Hours practising with a sword, trying to cast and attack the wooden dummy simultaneously.
Mother ruffling her hair and supplying her with lyrium bottles.
Father presenting her with her own set of silverite armour. They had saved for weeks to buy this for her, she just knew it.
Her graduation ceremony, her armour as shiny as it had been since the day she had bought it.
Accepting her beloved blade, Spellweaver from the Council of Elders.
Standing proud in the legion of arcane warriors, as deadly as could be.
Then, her friends falling, dying.
The council ordering her to bind her consciousness to the life gem.
Watching, helpless as her entire order was destroyed.
She was the last.
Millennia had passed slowly, leaving her to contemplate an eternity alone.
Forced to watch as a curious mage took Spellweaver from the pedestal, nearly consumed by her own rage.
Then, a tiny spark of hope. A creature unlike any she had felt before. Reliving all her own memories, and then- release. Sweet, pure release.
The memories occurred in one moment, simultaneously playing in her mind. When she glanced at the shiny chips of the gem and the puddle of blood beside them, she was filled with great sorrow, and a single tear slid down her alabaster cheek. She furiously scrubbed it away turned to her party. They had their mouths agape, except for Sten, who was statue-like as ever. She briefly explained the experience and they moved on.
"Welcome." Her voice was gentle but portrayed great wisdom. "I suspect that I am not as you expected me to be?"
"You could say that," Asleena replied cautiously. "You are the Lady?"
"I am the Lady of the Forest," she confirmed with a slight nod.
"Begging your pardon," Alistair said, looking pointedly away from the nude form before him, "but you seem to be more the Lady of the Ruins, from where I stand."
"Alistair!" Asleena hissed at him, even as Swiftrunner lunged forward, restrained only by the touch of the delicate looking, branchlike fingers.
"You will not address the Lady in such a manner!" he roared furiously, glaring at the Templar.
"Peace, Swiftrunner," the woman admonished him. "Your urge for battle has already cost the lives of many that you seek to protect. Is that what you wish?"
The great beast slumped beneath her reprimand. "No, Lady," he muttered, dropping his head. "Anything but that." She nodded, stroking his fur.
"Then the time has come for us to speak with these outsiders, to set our rage aside." The haunting green eyes turned to Asleena. "I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He struggles against his nature."
"As do we all, Lady," Asleena replied quietly. The Lady of the Forest told her what Zathrian had been keeping from them, and they were sent to collect him and bring him back to parley. The result had not been pretty, and the resulting battle had given her many new scars to add to her collection. However, the curse was broken and the werewolves were human again. They had also gained the assistance of the elves in the Blight. All in all, a job well done.
Back at the camp, Asleena and Alistair were discussing what they thought their next move should be. Soon, the conversation took a more personal turn, and they were laughing and smiling about sweet nothings. Asleena found herself drowning in his honey brown eyes, mesmerized by his smile, his lips. She imagined what it would be like to feel his lips on hers and…
Maker! Clean thoughts, Asleena, she chided herself mentally. She was painfully aware of how close together they were sitting, and she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She felt bold and the words escaped her mouth before she could stop them;
"Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?" she asked.
"Um, no… not unless they wanted a favour," he stammered. "Well, there was this one time in Denerim, but those women were… not like you." Asleena cocked her head and smiled, but did not speak.
"Wait, is this your way of telling me you think I'm handsome?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.
"My lips are sealed," Asleena replied, zipping a finger across her lips.
"Oh, I see," he growled. "I'll get it out of you yet. So… is this the part where I get to tell you the same?"
"Not if you don't think so," Asleena said to her boots, suddenly shy.
"Oh, I think so," Alistair whispered. "I'll just spring it on you when you least expect it." Asleena blushed a thousand shades of red and attempted to change the subject.
"Soooo… I was thinking…" She began nervously. "… Would you teach me to fight the way you do?"
"What?" Alistair asked incredulously. "You're a mage! You can't wield a sword."
"Try me," Asleena smirked, standing and pulling a spare blade from the ground.
"I can't believe I'm going to do this," Alistair whispered forlornly. "Try not to die. I'll do my best not to hurt you."
"Oh, don't hold back." Asleena said with a smile. With a vicious cry, she lunged forward at Alistair, who ducked quickly. He parried and dodged her attacks and went ahead with his own. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't lay a blow on her. Even in her robes, she was agile and quick, fast enough to stay out of range. They sparred for almost an hour, and by the end of it, they were both drenched in sweat, panting and exhausted.
"I yield!" Asleena gasped, collapsing by the fire.
"Maker's breath!" Alistair cried, "Where did you learn to fight like that?"
"The life gem," Asleena replied smugly. "Arcane warrior fighting."
"Well, you're going to need a good weapon and some armour." He said to her. With a smile, she left him and returned a few minutes later, clad in the Ancient Elven Armour that they had recovered in the ruins, an enchanted long sword on her hip. Alistair gaped at her- the armour clung to her slight curves, accentuating her long legs and small frame. It definitely suited her.
"Wow…" He breathed. "You should wear armour more often!" She giggled uncomfortably, aware of his worshipful gaze.
"Um... Is there any stew left? Leliana? Oh, thankyou." She spluttered. As she ate and went to sleep, she couldn't pull away from thoughts of Alistair. With a sigh, she slipped into surely Alistair-filled dreams and slept without waking till morning for the first time since the Joining.