After his move, the initiates who had the rooms near his old cell gave him odd looks, but none of them said anything. His screaming had been.. disturbing enough for them not to want to mention it to anyone, and Alistair was relieved.

Back in the dormitory, Alistair found himself happier than he'd been since before Isolde came. The orphan boys weren't like the initiates. Some of them were as scared and alone as he remembered being when he'd first got there. They were mostly younger than him, and most of them had been there for longer. There was no shortage of orphans in Ferelden - even without a war there were too many things that could separate a child from his or her parents early and the monastery was one of the biggest orphanages in the region.

It wasn't a bad life, really, and most of the boys felt lucky that they had a bed in which to sleep and adequate meals to eat. The brothers were impartial in their care and the boys were mostly left to look after themselves. There wasn't much free time for them to get into trouble - there were always jobs that needed doing and only the extremely young were exempted from them. When an orphan got to twelve or thirteen they tended to either join the brothers or take apprenticeships. A lot of the Chantry children ended up living far better than they would have had their parents survived. But there was a sense of sadness about them as well - the knowledge that they were one of many - without a mother to hold them first in her heart, a father to love them unconditionally, no matter what they did.

It made them both more harsh and more vulnerable than other children.

There were a few who were unable to find places as they got older, however. The Chantry only provided for them until they were sixteen - old enough to be married if they were girls or, presumably, make their own way if they were boys. Alistair understood that the situation was desperate for the girls - the Chantry did not provide a dowry, so marriage was unlikely, but the girls also had the option of becoming sisters who might eventually rise to through the ranks to become Revered Mothers. For boys this was more difficult. Becoming a brother was looked upon with disdain by most men, and those boys who were still waiting to find a position after the age of twelve were often resentful and mean. These were the ones who gave the other boys trouble.

The two worst were called Bannik and Marcus. Bannik was thirteen and heavily built - everyone had expected him to go to the blacksmith at Redcliffe for an apprenticeship, but somehow that had fallen through. Marcus was twelve and lean, but Alistair knew from experience that there was a wiry strength in those long limbs and he had spent a good deal of his first year at the Chantry avoiding him.

They delighted in tormenting the other children.

At Redcliffe, Alistair had a very simple way of dealing with bullies. They teased him about his parentage, and when they reached a certain point or said certain things, he would hit them. The consequences were usually harsh for both parties - but only if they were caught, and as Alistair's movements were almost never tracked by anyone, he was rarely caught. On the few occasions he was, he had been given a verbal lashing from Eamon about the importance of not resorting to violence, then, ironically, beaten soundly across the backside with a leather strap.

He'd always been puzzled by the logic in that.

At the Chantry boys caught fighting were punished differently.

Alistair had a different schedule to the other boys and as a result he often came and went from the dormitory on his own. It was on one such occasion in midwinter that he ran into Bannik and Marcus, literally, turning a corner and smacking into the wide expanse of flab that was the bigger boy, Bannik. Marcus was standing behind him.

They both had a full head of height over him. Alistair froze. There was no way the sisters would let these two wander the halls unaccompanied - which meant they must have been on an errand for one of the brothers - probably Bertrand. Alistair's former teacher seemed to be blind to the boys' faults or mistakenly (in Alistair's opinion, any way) took them as strengths.

There was little chance that this would end well, but he put on his most charming smile in any case, hopeful, but not optimistic. "Hello Bannik. Hello Marcus."

Bannik scowled. Marcus, however, grinned. The taller boy had always been the brains behind their operation, and Alistair always thought of him as a snake among mice. "Well, if it isn't the little bastard," he said. "Too good to be working like the rest of us."

Alistair thought it wouldn't be prudent to point out that Marcus at least had less of an idea who his father was than Alistair. Not with Bannik flexing his fists like that.

He took a few steps backwards. "I'll... just be... getting along to the dormitory..." he said nervously.

"So who was your mother, any way?" Marcus asked, advancing as Alistair retreated. "A serving girl, I heard one of the brothers say. At Redcliffe? I heard the Arl got you on her in a pigsty."

"He's not my father!" Alistair burst out before he could stop himself.

Bannik laughed nastily. "You think you know who is?" Marcus continued. "I bet your mother had so many she couldn't count them all. I bet she used to lie in the mud with her legs in the air... waiting..."

They were well past the point where Alistair usually let fly with is fists. He found himself reflexively clutching at his neck where her amulet used to lie and when he found it wasn't there - suddenly he didn't give a damn that they were in the halls of the monastery, like to be interrupted at any moment, because the rage that had started with Marcus' first taunt was reaching boiling point.

"I bet..." Marcus said slowly, his mouth working around the words as though he were eating a particularly tasty piece of meat, "..she used to have a line of men, all waiting to fuck her in the mud like the pig she was... "

Alistair snapped. He launched himself at the older boy, snarling.

It was an unfair fight, but Alistair's initial fury served him well and he was able to get in at least three solid punches to Marcus' face before the older boy twisted and grabbed at him. Alistair had seen it before - the dance these two performed, but he was helpless against it as Marcus held his arms so that Bannik could pummel him without resistance. He kicked once and let out a grunt of satisfaction when his foot connected with what he thought was Bannik's most private area, but his satisfaction was short lived as Bannik simply hit him harder - he'd obviously missed. Must be a smaller target than I thought... Alistair had time to think, almost smiling as the breath was punched out of him.

"What's this?" came a shrill, female voice. "Boys fighting in the corridor? Stop this instant!"

Marcus immediately let go of Alistair's arms and he slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. He looked up to see Beatrice, one of the older sisters, flanked by two brothers. She motioned to the brothers. "Take them to the Revered Mother," she said, disgust in her tone. The brothers chuckled. One of them hauled Alistair to his feet and set him stumbling in front of them up towards the Revered Mother's office. The other two boys were herded along behind him.

Alistair hadn't seen the Revered Mother in anything other than sermons since the screaming incident. She was no less severe looking and even more intimidating up close. He had never seen her smile and she was certainly not doing so now. Instead she sat with her hands placed squarely on the desk in front of her, her dark eyes boring into each boy until Alistair was certain she could see under his clothes with the force of her will. He squirmed.

"Fighting anywhere in these halls is unacceptable behaviour," she said sternly. Marcus looked like he was going to protest - he probably had some story about how Alistair had started it.... oh, that's right, technically he had started it... "I don't care who started it," the Revered Mother said, reading his mind the way he knew she could, "as it is perfectly obvious by the state of you all that all three of you continued it willingly. Marcus and Bannik I can understand resorting to violence but I am disappointed in you, Alistair. You are an initiate. Ser Reynard tells me you are progressing well in the Templar discipline. You should know better - and what's more, you should be able to control yourself."

He hung his head, correctly interpreting that silence and contrition were what the Revered Mother was looking for and not the defiance he might have offered to a less highly ranked sister.

"Do you have anything to say for yourselves?" she asked after a pause. Not if we value our hides, he thought. All three of them shook their heads. "Well, then. A week of penitences for all three of you," she said.

Alistair had to clamp his mouth shut to repress the groan that tried to escape him. Penitences were conducted in a cell, supervised by a brother - and consisted of reciting canticles of the brother's choice until one's voice was hoarse. They never chose the good ones, either - and Alistair was still jumpy at entering any space smaller than the dormitory, especially on his own.

They also meant no free time to play or sit and contemplate or, in Alistair's case, practice his templar exercises. He resented the time that would be stolen from him in pointless punishment.

As the boys were led from the room, Marcus found an opportunity to get next to him and jab him in the ribs.

"This is your fault, bastard," he whispered. "We'll get you back."

Alistair had no doubt they would try.