Chapter 10: Revelations

Alistair, after a very careful and painstakingly accurate analysis, came to the conclusion that he was with high probability insane. That was truly the only explanation for the thrill he had felt at drawing his sword, the euphoria after they had defeated the guards on the beach, the content hum of his blood in his ears as he had stood afterwards for just a moment, looking out over the sea. It had taken him more than a year to forget, to ignore the memories at the very least.

His arms ache and his breath is labored, but he does not stop. One of the creatures screeches as it hurls itself at him, but he brings up his shield and pushes it back almost effortlessly, his heart beating steadily. The shield gleams in the sinking sun like gold and he once again brings his sword down in a powerful arch, plunging it deep into a Hurlock's neck. The hum in his ears is almost deafening, but he does not need to hear them. He can feel them, knows their movements. He is a warrior and this is his element.

He licked his lips and swallowed hard. He was thirsty and water could not quench his thirst. Just a glass of whiskey would help already, perhaps two. Pressing his eyes closed, he rubbed his hand over his face, repressing a sigh. He should not have come.

"You are scowling", Aífe said and broke the silence in which they had been sitting for quite a while now. The scowl deepened as he looked at the root of all his problems. Well, the main ones anyhow. She looked small in the clothes she wore now – a tunic far too big for her and breeches that she had to stuff into her boots and bind at her waist with her belt, so it would not drop. The only advantage they really had were that they were dry. Where she had gotten them he could only guess. One of the guards they had left behind bound and unconscious most probably. The same ones she had gone to question. As he studied her, he wondered whether she had killed them.

She looked almost harmless. Except for the blood that had dripped from the wound on her brow onto the tunic, staining shoulder and chest. The arsenal of knifes, daggers and something he could not quite identify that she had arranged around her helped little. She looked… disheveled. No, that was not the right word. She looked as though a dragon had swooped down, swallowed her whole, decided she was too exotic for its taste, gagged her back up and spit her out in a semi-dry state. It was fascinating that the bun was still in place, even though strands of hair had slipped out. The cut on her brow – now cleaned and coated with some white salve that smelled of honey – helped little.

"That's just my face", he answered then, watching her as she leaned back against Grimm. The hound had settled down behind her and now functioned as her personal cushion, something he did not seem to mind. He wagged his tail at the movement, but did not even open his eyes – since he had finished eating, the dog had been all but unconscious. She buried her hand in his fur, fingers raking over the skin in an almost distracted movement – something she had done quite frequently after she had joined them.

From the moment she had entered the cave almost an hour after they had left her at the beach, she had been quiet and brooding. At times she stared at the entrance of the cave as though she expected somebody to attack them anytime now, at other times she had gotten up to rearrange a pack that did not sit quite right in her opinion or to cast a glance into the backmost cavern in which Nelaros was sitting with the children.

All this time she had said little and barely took enough time to let him know that they would stay here for the night and some of the day. Only once the sun stood high, they would bring the children to a small port outside the city, where a ship should be waiting for them. That was when his contract would end.

Both the elf and the children were out of their sight now and the shine of the fires they had built did not reach the entrance and thereby could not betray their position, Nelaros had been very careful of that. Immediately after he had led them all to this cave over a stony path below the cliffs, he had built a fire in the innermost cave and another one in this place closer to the entrance. He had given them all something to eat from packs that had been already in here and kept talking while he did so, his calm voice and amiable smile helping the children to let go off at least some of their fear. By now most of them were asleep and Nelaros merely kept them company, telling stories from the Alienage of Highever or Ferelden in general.

That did not keep the woman from casting anxious glances at the children, assessing them over and over again. He had seen the look on her face when she had eaten, her eyes focused on the children. Her gaze had darkened and grim lines had formed around her mouth as she slowly chewed on a piece of bread. Then and again she would flex her fingers as if testing that they still functioned properly, but the gloom as she studied each one of them had not lifted. Only when one turned to look at her, she would put the mask of a smile on her face that never quite reached her eyes, would even wink at one of them. As soon as they averted their gaze, she'd let the mask fall and resume whatever it was she was doing.

Apparently he was the new aim of her analysis – at least he had her full attention now. He felt the childish urge to excuse himself and go outside, just for a few moments. She was invading his personal bubble without even moving. What was wrong with her?

What was wrong with him, for that matter?

"Are you in pain?", she asked then and leaned forward again. Her hand was already on the pack at her side, when he quickly waved her concern away. She had taken him off guard, he had expected something else entirely. "No, I am fine", he was quick to reassure her and with a nod she dropped her hand again. She did not lean back this time, though, and instead she drew up her knees against her chest and put her arms around them, still looking at him.

"You do not seem fatigued at all", she observed and he shrugged. It was true, he did not feel too bad. He did know, however, that normally he would not have pulled that muscle in his shoulder and he would not have had to catch his breath for quite so long afterwards. He also knew that it was the taint that still gave him these advantages. At the thought he quickly lifted the water bottle to his lips and drank a few sips. It helped nothing. He felt thirsty.

She looked away from him and towards the part of the cave that housed the children, listening intently for a few moments. There was nothing to hear, except for almost inaudible breathing. He tensed when she suddenly pushed herself to her feet, hands on her knees, and turned to look at him again.

"I am fine", he repeated after a silence that stretched all too long, eyeing her warily. "I have seen worse." She did not look away and he could not help himself, he got to his feet as well. The top of her head barely reached his chin and yet he felt backed into a corner. He knew that look in her eyes, all but saw the questions already forming on her lips "But then again, I have neither been hit by lightning nor fire. Plus, I did not take a midnight swim in the cold ocean." Perhaps distraction would work on her, he thought faintly, and at the same time did not count on that at all. Now that he thought about it, he knew perfectly well what was wrong with her. She was insane. Perhaps if he started running now he'd make it to Antiva before the full force of it hit him.

He did not run, however. Yet another proof that he was just as insane. "Perhaps we should prepare for a blizzard, just in case another element feels inclined to try and kill you tonight. Does it feel avalanche-y to you in here?"

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth and the grim lines vanished for a moment. "Funny", she said with genuine amusement, but did not laugh. "However, you severely underestimate my stubbornness if you think a blizzard or avalanche would so much as put a scratch on me."

"I never assumed such an abstract thing. It is why I was careful to say try to kill", he replied. For all the talking, he knew well enough that she was tired and he also knew that lightning did hurt for longer than just a few moments. He was wondering why she had not already rolled into her blanket, but she probably did not trust him to keep watch over all of them.

"You are not a mage", she said and he stood there for a moment, just staring at her. There. Insanity. It was smiling and waving at him happily. How else could these changes of topic be explained properly? Insanity on both sides. Why else did he start to chuckle now, once again rubbing a hand over his eyes. She had not asked a question, she had made a statement.

"You think?", he asked and averted his eyes to look at Grimm, whose paws had started to twitch now. When he looked back at her, the smile was still in place, but he was no longer sure if it was still genuine.

"You would be a very curious mage." She folded her arms over her chest and stepped closer, making him stand up straighter. The difference in height did not seem to perturb her in the least, she simply walked around him slowly, eyes scanning over his form. He turned his head to not lose sight of her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. He felt like one of those poor little lambs on farmer's markets that were assessed for their potential as family meal. Any moment now she'd ask for his pedigree.

He chuckled. Wouldn't she be in for quite the surprise.

"You saved me the worst of the lightning spell – and the other spell in which I was caught, some sort of crushing imprisonment. You did something and there was no bomb or flask or amulet. You did something. I saw your movement and the light and there was some sort of wave that rippled through the spells. It originated from you." She spoke from somewhere to his left and finally finished her round, coming back to stand in front of him. Strangely, she looked utterly relaxed – and the smile was still in place. He could read absolutely nothing from her face, except perhaps a certain amount of curiosity. He had always been bad at reading faces, but the woman did make it even more difficult.

The silence stretched between them until it grew almost awkward. He had no idea what to tell her, except perhaps the truth – and somehow, that was not an option. All he was, was a mercenary of some sorts. He was no prince, he was no Grey Warden, he was at this point not even a warrior anymore. He had nothing to fight for. Most of all, though, he did not want her to know any of that.

"The best explanation that came to my mind would have been that you were using magic", she continued when he said nothing. "However, that seems unlikely. You have not used lyrium in the last days – Grimm would have smelled it and warned me. You would also be the very first mage I meet that prefers chainmail over light clothes, carries no staff and actually knows how to properly use shield and sword." He should have fled when he had the chance. Now she stood between him and the entrance.

"Curious indeed", she repeated after yet another moment. Alistair felt the scowl return to his face. As if she was somebody to talk. Little Miss I-stalk-the-coast-at-midnight-and-fight -slavers-while-telling-absolutely-nobody-anything-about-nothing.

"This would be the moment where you either assure me that you will not grow horns and start eating people or you actually tell me what it was", she said and he looked at her stunned. Did she really consider that he could carry a demon within him? Great. Now he had sunken to that level.

"You think I have a demon within me?", he asked finally, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. She stepped closer and he immediately took a step back, careful to keep the distance between them. It was not like she was that close, but she ruffled his feathers and by now he had no clue what she actually did think and even less so what she planned on doing. He saw the flicker of movement from the corner of his eyes and when he turned his head to look, he saw that Grimm had quietly gotten to his feet and simply stood there now, looking at him. Alistair saw the tension in the hound's body and that his dark eyes were fixed on him. As if the Mabari's mistress hadn't been enough…

His fingers twitched and he could feel his heartbeat quicken. The shield was somewhere behind him and the sword still close to his feet.

"I do not think you are a demon", Aífe said and took a step back, perhaps because she had noticed his reaction, or perhaps because she also had seen Grimm. With a few steps she was next to her dog and crouched down, putting an arm over his neck to pull him close to her chest. The hound averted his eyes from the man in front of him and wagged his tail as a sign of appreciation, turning to lick her neck.

"I have encountered few demons throughout the last years, so I do not have a vast array of experience. However, I have learned that Grimm and most other animals have much better senses. Were you a demon or even just linked with one, I am pretty sure he would not have been quite so accepting of you", she explained. "Plus, I would think a demon has little interest in aiding me."

Then why bring it up, he grouched, and it must have been evident on his face, because she smiled apologetically at him. "I am sorry", she said and sounded genuine. "I should not bait you so. I had hoped to coax you into telling me what exactly it was that you did, after all – and perhaps who you are to know such a technique. I have not seen the like and I have had quite a few teachers and friends that were very capable with sword, shield and other weapons." After a brief pause in which he simply looked at her quietly, she let herself drop down to sit again. It looked like a peace-offer. He bit back a snarky comment that lay at the tip of his tongue when she cocked her head to the side.

"You see, I do not like not knowing what I am dealing with and quite frankly, I have absolutely no clue what it was that you did there. There have been quite a few surprises tonight and I would like to solve at least this mystery. I get antsy when I am unsure – I start prodding and asking and bothering until I have all the charm of a bag of fleas."

Which was probably the nice way of telling him that she would not stop until he gave her something to go on and he would rather she stopped looking at him with quite so much speculation. Given time she'd undoubtedly make something up in her head and he'd rather she'd not. She had too much imagination.

"It is not that easy", he finally managed so say and looked away from her. Even if he told her one part of the story, where would he start and where would he end? She was of some rank in Ferelden, she undoubtedly knew all that had happened at the Landsmeet. He felt his blood run cold at the thought that she had in fact been there and had seen him.

As he turned to look at her, he studied her – really looked at her for the first time. He did not remember seeing her in the Landsmeet chamber, but that meant nothing. Her blond hair had been bound into a bun all this time and the wetness made it look even darker. She was not very tall, but could not exactly be called especially tiny, either. He would not have called her remarkably pretty or beautiful, either, she looked too grim and hard for that. Attractive perhaps, if she was not as wet and actually smiled. Her piercing grey eyes were probably the most remarkable attribute about her, but otherwise she would be able to vanish in a crowd of people without anybody giving her a second thought. He did not think he had seen her before, but in a dress, with her hair open and behind all those other nobles he did not know… it was well possible. But then why had she not said anything about that at all?

"It is not like you told me everything", he said then, slowly, and studied her face. When he did not see any effect of those words, he added: "My lady." His fingertips tingled and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, pressing his fingers firm against the cold metal of his chainmail armor. A grin tugged on her lips as she got up again, one hand on the neck of her Mabari.

All of a sudden she extended her arm towards him, fingers outstretched. Alistair looked at the arm and then back to her, unsure how to interpret the gesture. "I am Aífe Cousland of Highever", she introduced herself and inclined her head in the suggestion of a bow.

"Cousland?", he repeated after a momentary pause. He had once claimed that the Chantry did not make stupid Templars and in some aspects he was right. He had endured a rather detailed education about the history of Ferelden, its noble houses and geography. He had also heard the rumors and stories told in taverns and villages during the Blight.

The fall of the house Cousland and their so-claimed betrayal of Ferelden to Orlais and death of the whole family had been a widely discussed topic. First rumors of the survival of the Teryn's daughter rose over a month after Ostagar had fallen. The next thing they had heard had been about a rebellion in the north, where she had summoned lords and banns under the Cousland banner to resist Arl Howe and by extent the self-proclaimed regent Loghain. What had happened in the north had been just short of a civil war – lords had been hanged, villages burned, public floggings taken place.

Most importantly, Duncan had mentioned her when he returned to Ostagar after one of his journeys to find recruits.

They are both sitting close to the fire, warming their hands. Duncan looks tired and Alistair casts him a worried glance. "You did bring a new recruit from Highever – that is good, is it not?", he asks quietly. "It is", Duncan assures him and turns to look at him, his steady gaze warm but distant. "I simply had hoped for another one. Bryce Cousland's youngest has had the finest training money can buy here in Ferelden and has led soldiers already. I have heard she is a more than capable scout and quick to learn."

Alistair swallows. Cousland is a big name in Ferelden and he is not quite sure what to make of Duncan's words. "Then why did you not recruit her?", he asks after a moment and Duncan chuckles. "She informed me quite sharply that she had no interest in joining the Wardens and that her duties lie elsewhere. Moreover, her father is a generous man and a friend to us – and he also made it clear that he was displeased at the very idea. There was no reason to force the issue, at least not know. I still plan on visiting the Dalish, perhaps I can find another recruit. If I cannot find anybody else, I am afraid I will have to return to Highever for her… Perhaps she will even join her father when he leads his troops to Ostagar." Duncan looks tired, awfully tired, and Alistair lowers his gaze to his fretting hands. He doesn't really know what to do, so he breaks off a piece of his cheese and offers it to Duncan. "Want some?", he asks and his mentor smiles at him, shaking his head with a chuckle.

She wiggled her fingers as he just stood there and looked at her, dazed. "I am sorry", she said after another moment and let her hand sink. Her brows furrowed and she wrinkled her nose in thought. "I had not thought it would be quite so upsetting. A little honesty for a little honesty, no?"

He squinted at her. She did not look as deadly as stories claimed, nor as beautiful. Plus, Grimm was huge and quite the mountain of muscle, but he did not exactly look like a demon-hound. Right now he was licking his hindquarters with dedication, not really paying attention.

"Look", she said and derailed his train of thought, "If you are worried because you were a soldier for Howe or Mac Tir – don't be." Her gaze had darkened again and even though she tried to hide it, he caught the signs of a sneer forming on her features as she spoke the names. "I know the rumors, but despite popular belief I did not seek to kill everybody associated with them in whatever way possible. I will not say that I have any love for them, but I understand well enough that a soldier can rarely choose his lord." Despite her words, he had seen her eyes flicker to her weapons laid out on the ground. For the first time he could see her tense and even though she said not a word, Grimm perked his ears and once again looked at him.

So she did not know who he was. He did not want to take the chance of her jumping to any conclusions by herself. Whatever she said, he had heard stories of her raids on Loghain's supply wagons and Howe's soldiers holding her father's lands. More importantly, he had seen her fight tonight. There was no hesitation in her movements and a deadly accuracy to each stab of her daggers. He had no desire to let the tension between them progress and turn even more serious.

She twitched as he extended his hand towards her, her fingers ghosting over the single dagger remaining in its sheath on her belt. Grimm lowered his head and took a step forward, ready to block the warrior's path towards his mistress and eyeing him warily.

"I am just Alistair." She looked at his hand and took a step towards him. "I have never served any of them and I would rather be called a deserter than have anybody believe I ever did. I fought at Ostagar, where my… commander died." A shiver crawled up his spine at the mention of the old ruins and he saw her avert her gaze briefly. Then she finally grasped his hand and squeezed tightly it in greeting. Her fingers were cold, they felt almost icy on his skin.

"Well met", she said very quietly and her shoulders sagged as she allowed herself to drop her defense. As they both pulled back, Alistair cleared his throat and turned to look at Grimm, extending his hand yet again. "Just Alistair", he repeated and watched the dog etch closer, sniffing his fingers with great concentration for a moment. Then the hound started to lick his hand, his tiny tail wagging yet again. Alistair could see Aífe smile out of the corner of his eyes.

"I grew up in the Chantry", he finally explained. His eyes were still on Grimm and he slowly lifted his hand to scratch the hound behind one ear. Grimm graciously accepted the touch and after a look at Aífe he even moved closer and sit at Alistair's feet. "Once I was old enough, I was trained to be a Templar and I all but completed the training. However, I was not made for that kind of life and I left without taking the vows and never became a real Templar and so I was not bound to the Chantry. The training, though, is special and it is not something you easily forget. Especially not when you have been attacked by a Darkspawn emissary throwing fire at you or other creatures that like to roast your hide. What you saw was a cleansing of the area, as it is called. It removes any and all spells within a certain range. Nothing special, just very useful against mages of any kind."

She cocked her head to the side and then actually laughed. "Nothing special, he says", she repeated. "Felt pretty special from where I was standing, I can assure you." Suppressing a yawn she returned to the spot against the far side of the wall she had occupied before and settled down again, eyes on him. "Thank you, Alistair."

"You are welcome." He expected more questions, especially with the way she looked at him, but then she just smiled at him faintly and pulled a blanket over her legs.

"You should sleep", she told him and he could not help but laugh, unsure if he was amused or offended. It was obvious that she was more tired than he was and yet she remained stubborn.

"Trust doesn't come easy for you, does it?", Alistair asked and sat back down again. Grimm huffed at the lack of attention and trotted over to his mistress, where he once again curled around her and put his head on his paws. "There is much I have to think about, I will not be able to sleep now. It is just as well that I take first watch", she explained and it was easy to notice that she had not really answered the question.

As he laid down and bedded his head on his arm, pulling a blanket over himself, he heard her rummage in her pack and pick up a weapon. The sound of a whetstone on metal and Grimm's even breathing made him drift off into sleep soon.

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Author's Comment: First of all... thank you, Emma! Especially for answering my thousand questions if Grimm sounded realistic, Aífe was not overdone and whether dear Alistair did not get out of character. I SHALL NEVER STOP ASKING. I am paranoid. ._. Thanks for bearing with me. :p I also would like to thank alyssacousland, Graymalkyn and EkoCentric! I appreciate your reviews very much! =) Thanks also to everybody who follows this story or favoured it!
I hope you could enjoy this chapter and get a bit of insight into how the both of them work at this point... at least they've gotten some mistrust out of the way, right? Just becaues Alistair wants to flee her... Pfft. She has cheese. He'll stay. At some point. Not entirely voluntarily. *coughs* RIGHT.
I wish you all a very Happy New Year and as we say in Austria "a good slide into the next one, without breaking anything"!