A/N: It has literally been forever since I wrote anything on this and I will blame DA2 for it, well... most of the blame can fall on DA2, there may have been some Fallout issues as well. I own nothing, Bioware does, and any lines you recognize are taken from the game.

CHAPTER 11

"So, you said the Maker, um, sent you a vision?"

Leliana had been more than aware when the Warden had fallen into step behind her, and she had also been expecting this. Expectation didn't keep a grimace from crossing her face. "I knew you would want to talk about this."

Briar nodded at Alistair when he glanced at them, purposefully letting everyone take a bit of a lead, giving her and Leliana a semblance of privacy. "Well, you understand how it sounds."

"Like heresy."

"I was going for-"

"Insane." Morrigan tossed over her shoulder.

Leliana's cheeks flushed though she also seemed very determined. "I had a dream."

All Briar could do was listen to Leliana's description of her dream and the interpretation. "You dreamt of the Blight?" She finally surmised, making her statement more of a question.

Leliana gave this some thought, her head tilting to the side. "I think so, yes."

"The Chantry says the Maker has abandoned us."

"No, I can't believe that." She shook her head forcefully, halting in her tracks. "There is too much beauty, too much good, left in this world. He is still here. I feel Him in the wind against my face and I feel Him in the rays from the sun warming my body, He is still here. I know what the Chantry says about the Maker and just what should I believe? What I feel in my heart or what others tell me?"

"Believe what feels right to you, Leliana."

Leliana smiled, her eyes straying heavenward for the briefest of moments. "Thank you."

As Briar had no idea if Leliana was actually speaking to her or to… someone else, she remained silent.

~!~

"Why are we stopping?" Sten demanded the first night away from Lothering when Briar called for a halt, watching out of his pale lavender eyes as she began pitching in to help set up camp.

She didn't turn to face him, busy unrolling her tent. "To rest."

"We have a Blight to end."

"We can't fight if we're dead on our feet, Qunari." She said curtly, getting that he wouldn't be letting this drop and stood up, turning to stare at him, planting her hands on her hips. "Let's get a few things straight, shall we?"

He arched a white eyebrow down at her.

"It is not your job to handle the Blight."

"No, it is yours and you are chatting with me instead."

Her face turned red, her lips compressing into a grim, thin line. "Yes, I am chatting with you instead. You are here to help us, not offer opinion, comment or tell me off. Understand?"

The look he gave her said more than what words ever could.

Briar watched as he walked away, looking down at her fists, unclenching them.

~!~

Waking up from nightmares, or visions as Alistair referred to them, became a regular occurrence for Briar. He had told her as time went on, under normal circumstances, the nightmares would fade. Since they were facing a Blight however, she was stuck with them.

They did a lot of walking, more walking than she could ever remember doing in her life. It was slow, especially with the added addition of a dwarf they had rescued in Lothering, Bodahn who was a merchant, and his addled son Sandal. Addled but sweet, and dead useful, he could enchant things. That was a very nifty little trick he had picked up and Briar had wasted no time in learning just what his talents allowed him to do.

They would stray ahead of the wagon Bodahn and his son brought with them, filled with goods they scavenged from abandoned houses and other places. Sten, while a literal giant, was surprisingly quiet on his feet. It was no surprise that Leliana –or Princess Stabbity Stab as Alistair called the lay sister when it was just them- was also quiet. Morrigan seemed to come and go, fading in and out of the scenery as she desired.

Draven could be quiet, when he chose too, but most of the time he preferred to lope alongside Alistair, who was… not as silent as the rest of them. He could move around easily in his armor, but not without making noise. It was something Morrigan liked to snark at him for, much to Briar's annoyance. Once the witch got going, with Alistair's sarcastic encouragement, it could become difficult to shut her up.

She had made sure –multiple times, much to Bodahn's barely concealed annoyance- that he knew they were heading for Redcliffe, in case they wandered too far and did not return to him. Every time, he would assure her he knew his way and then send her along, or try to convince her to buy something she didn't need. Briar figured he was doing that to annoy her since she was getting so good at bothering him.

Truth be told, while surrounded by people, or in Sten's case: Qunari, she felt alone. Giving orders and leading came naturally to her, but it was a lonely burden to shoulder alone. She missed her family and it seemed to get worse with each step they took. The only distractions were when she was too busy to think or when they fought the occasional darkspawn or idiot bandits. Those were becoming her favorite times, when she could vent all her negative emotions into battle. Every kill she made, she pictured it to be Rendon Howe. Sometimes that helped, affording her a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that one day, it truly would be that traitorous bastard she was gutting. Other times, it only seemed to make things worse, knowing that this was a poor fantasy and that she was no nearer avenging her family than she was ending the Blight.

Mercifully, Alistair was coming out of his own grief, though that also meant he began speaking a lot more. If she thought Morrigan could be obnoxious with her snarky remarks or Leliana's never ending prattle was bad enough, Alistair proved her wrong. Most of the time, she didn't mind. He was charming and in an idiotic sort of way, rather funny. But even while making a very stupid remark and then laughing at his own self, she could see the pain in his eyes that he was still overcoming. It was that pain that usually made her retreat from him, it made her intensely dislike him. Why the hell should he be hiding his pain? He wasn't the one who had to hold things together, she was. At least one of them should be allowed the privilege of total grief.

~!~

"What exactly can a templar do?"

Alistair looked at Briar, his attention drawn away from the congealed mess of what she had termed 'stew' on his tin plate. Happy for the distraction (she could fight well but her cooking was worse than even his), he set aside the plate and shifted until he was facing her. He began detailing what templars were trained for, distracted only when she actually began eating her own plate of heated death. Swallowing down the urge to knock the fork from her hand, he continued.

"Of course, templars hunt mages and because of this, we train in talents that will drain their mana and disrupt spells."

Briar began spitting the food out of her mouth, right into the fire they were sitting next too. "That is bloody disgusting!" She next emptied the rest of her plate, feeding the flames. "None of you couldn't have told me I can't cook worth a damn?" She demanded, looking at him and then to Leliana, who's own plate was suspiciously clean.

Leliana smiled mischeieveously. "And let you miss out on the delights of your stew? Certainly not."

"Sten, did you-" Briar groaned when she spotted him prodding the mass on his own plate with the tip of his finger, frowning when it actually quivered. Stew was not meant to quiver. "Brilliant."

Relieved that he no longer had to worry about both hurting her feelings and gluing his innards shut, Alistair threw his own food into the fire, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically because she was now glaring at him. Um… where were we?"

"Templars."

"Right."

"Could others learn how those talents you were mentioning? To drain mana and interrupt spell casting?"

He considered that, studying her thoughtfully. "Maybe, though… the Chantry keeps tight reign on its templars. They're given lyrium to help develop those talents and sadly, it also means that we –templars I mean- become addicted to the stuff." He nodded when her eyes widened in shock, knowing not very many people outside the situation knew the truth of it. "The Chantry also controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves."

Briar pieced what he was now telling her together rather quickly, shock turning to disgust. "Were you addicted to lyrium?" She asked after a quiet, reflective moment, studying him intently.

He shook his head, seeing the relief dawning in her cobalt eyes, the firelight reflecting in them. "Templars only start receiving lyrium once they've taken their vows and I was lucky enough to have been recruited into the Grey Wardens before that happened. I am lyrium free. Now… just between you and me, I will admit to being a cheese addict."

It took her several moments to realize he was teasing her, possibly. Or he could be telling the truth, either way, that boyish grin was on his face and his eyes were glittering with amusement. "You are so strange."

"I know."

~!~

It was when they had neared the outskirts of Redcliffe that Briar truly got her first surprise from Alistair. She stood at the top of the cliff, staring down at the windmill and bridge that led to the town when he came up to stand by her side.

"Can we talk for a moment?" He asked, sounding genuinely nervous. When she looked at him, he couldn't even managed a nervous smile. Apparently the fact that he looked so serious had some sort of effect on her because she was now giving him her full attention, hands clasped loosely behind her back. "I need to tell you something. I, ah… probably should have told you earlier."

Briar felt her concern turning to something else, frowning slightly. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this one bit?"

"I doubt it, I've never liked it, that's for sure."

Her frown deepened. "Alistair…"

"Um, how do I tell you this…" He looked down at the dirt, half expecting the answer to be spelled out there before sighing and looking back into her pale face. "Did I ever say how I know Arl Eamon, exactly?"

"I believe you said he raised you."

"I'm a bastard." Alistair blurted out, with a lot less finesse then he had planned. He continued with the blurting, unable to stop himself. He hadn't wanted to tell her, he rather liked her not knowing who he truly was, but he couldn't just not tell her either. Not with them about to go before the Arl. When he was finished, he watched her, taking in her dropped jaw and waited for the explosion, already cringing away.

He was not prepared for it when Briar actually doubled over laughing. He couldn't tell if it was hysterical laughter or 'he must be joking' laughter. Nervously, he joined in, stopping after a few false chuckles.

When Briar straightened, she had to wipe tears from her eyes, smiling crookedly up at him. "So, you're not just a bastard, but a royal bastard? Is that what you're telling me?"

That brought a genuine smile to his own face, feeling relief coursing through him that she was apparently taking this so well. "I'll have to use that line now, but yes. That is exactly what I'm telling you."

The mirth faded as realization began setting in. "Oh Maker's balls… you know what this means don't you?"

"I know what it means. It means absolutely nothing." He was starting to get panicky again, not liking the look on her face one bit. "I was told from day one that I was to never sit on the throne and that is just fine with me, I don't want the blasted thing. Briar, nobody outside of Duncan knew this, please, please don't say anything to anyone."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "Do you think Cailan knew?"

"Maybe, who knows? The point is, it was always meant to be him there, not me, and nothing's changed."

"A lot has changed."

"Look, the only reason I'm telling you is because now I have no choice. I didn't want you to know, ever, if I could help it." He felt a tad guilty at the hurt that flickered through her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You're heir to the throne now, Alistair."

"No, no, no. A thousand times, no. Let's just move on from this and I can pretend that you still think I'm some sorry sod who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens."

Knowing now was not the time to pursue this, Briar mockingly bowed, keeping her eyes trained on him and smiled wickedly at the appalled look on his face. "As you command, my prince."

He walked away from her, muttering under his breath.