A/N: Hi everyone! Guess who's back? More time to write as exams are nearly over and Nikita's not on for a month, which I've been obsessed (alongside Tangled, which was just adorable) with. This will be a smushy chapter, indeed.

Just a lil' note, a reviewer mentioned Sal's name. I was kind of waiting for someone to mention, but it's explained in the chapter with Kerren. I did laugh to myself putting it in, and I was kind of disappointed when no one noticed! But someone did, so it's ok now. Haha. I kind of wanted a good effect with naming a character after an herb with "healing" properties (ya know). Sorry! The gung-ho History student part of me effects everything! They used to believe salvia was a healing drug in the period Dragon Age is based around, so interpret that as you will. Thanks for reading a too-long and perhaps even educational note!

Chapter Ten
"Don't be sad about your chosen path,
and where it's taken you thus far.
'Cos this is what you did,
and that is who you are.
And it's alright."
~Cue Music, Passing Strange

Trija could feel her lungs ache from lack of air in Farridan's tight hug. He was talking about their book.
"...walked right up to me and offered me gold, on the spot; said he'd read some of my previous work and was a big fan. I told him about you and the book, and he was thrilled to go ahead with it."

Trija looked up at the towering man, both gasping for air and grinning. His expression mirrored her own, falling at the corners slightly when he realised her own had.
"What? Is something wrong?"
He had noticed her worrying as she broke away from him and turned in Salvia's direction. The little girl held her mother's gaze, unsure of how to respond. The woman seemed to be mulling something over in her mind, turning back to her husband with a voice in hushed tones. Salvia had already gotten out of the front door to find her friends when her mother spoke.

"I need to talk with you...about Salvia." Trija's voice and sombre and, quite frankly, boring to the young girl.

**
She spotted the man when she exited the house into the balmy morning air; he had the beginnings of stubbly spikes around his chin, making her wonder on the things she didn't quite know yet. He looked sad as he sat alone, like a child who had planned a beach trip to find it was raining when he awoke. She heaved herself onto the soggy, slightly moss-covered and cracked wooden bench beside him. Alistair spotted her after a few seconds, trying to peer down at her from the corner of his eye.

He hesistated. "How old are you?"
Salvia furrowed her brow in an exaggerated manner. "Almost six," she grinned up at him proudly and toothily. He let out a long sigh, pressure being taken off him.
"So...five?" He smiled. Salvia furrowed her brow again.
"Well, nearly six."
"And nearly six is five, then!" He chuckled at the girl, who seemed rather distraught.

"Yes," she obliged. He felt a light drop of liquid on his forehead. Alistair looked up at the overcast sky, not yet feeling anymore rain drops. He tested the air for a moment, feeling the young girl's eyes on him. After a few moments, he feel something land in his lap, involuntarily letting out a slight "oof." Salvia had decided to land herself in his lap, still staring quite intently up at him.

"I know what's going on," she stated a bit more defiantly that Alistair thought could come from such a young creature. He did, however, find himself rather too stunned to reply.
"My Mum used to sing to me. When you come home to me, I'll wear a sweeter smile, and hope that for a while you'll stay. And now she does."

Alistair cleared his throat having found that it had tried to give up on him.
"She does what?" He questioned, heart pounding.
Salvia gestured with her thumbs in a dramatic manner. "Wears a smile!"
She followed this by grinning at him.
"I think I know what she means. She tells me of her adventures. My d- he doesn't listen. I know you were there." She muttered. Alistair's stomach dropped.
"And I think you love her!" The girl shrieked it in an excited way, like a detective piecing together a puzzle. Her brow furrowed for the final time.

"And I think..."
She trailed off indefinitely, her expression a confused and shocked one. They were both brought from her musings by the now-familiar sound of the door bursting open. This time, a heated conversation could be heard from behind it. Both Farridan and Trija exited, the latter at the front and taking brisk paces away from the man. Yet both with equal looks of annoyance on their faces. Salvia slipped off of Alistair's lap slowly, a look of reproach on her face.

The elven woman came to a stop in front of the little girl, kneeling down in the grass to look her over, as if examining her for any breaks or damage.

After a few moments, she squeezed her into a hug. Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair could see Farridan, Trija's husband, looking at him as if he was either terribly puzzling or disgraceful. When he tried to meet the man's bitter gaze, he found him gone back inside. Anger twisting at him, Alistair comtemplated following for a small portion of a second before realising he was an idiot for thinking such thoughts.

"Sal," she wavered. Guilt pulled at him when Alistair realised Trija was crying. "You're going to go with Alistair to Denerim."

A look of complete confusion flooded the little girl's face as her mother picked the small girl up, swinging her to the other side of her body to carry the child quickly.

"What?" Alistair piped up, finding his voice. He let his feet beat the ground as he followed Trija and the quick trail towards his horse in the stables that she was blazing. He feared that his tone may have been too harsh and shocked, for the child began to cry in the heartbreaking way only a child can.

"Alistair, take her back to Denerim with you. She knows who her parents are. Take her for a better life there." She smiled wanly, as if this was everyday business.
"But-"
"No. What can I do for her here? What kind of life is just living in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to her name. I've done that for the first eighteen years of my life, the worst years of my life. It's no life for her."
He was silent, much wanting to react like Salvia.
"There's no Duncan to enscript her," she laughed bitterly. "But you can bring her home."

He looked at her as if she had just sprouted an extra head.
"Please," she begged, her voice beginning to crack.