A knock on his room's door startled him from his wakeful rest.
"Yes?", he croaked at the slowly opening door.
"Are you awake?" a quiet voice questioned.
"No", he grinned him to himself.
"Fine, I'll go", he instantly recognized the voice.
"Bethany", he started as he struggled to grope down for anything to cover his half-nakedness. "Stay, just let me get on something decent."
"Alright", she muttered as her shadow danced nervously in the column of light that spilled in from the doorway.
Alistair shrugged on the freshly aired out padded shirt that served as the first buffer between his flesh and the armor that he normally wore.
"I'm decent now, messre. Or it serah? I've never been sure about regional greetings."
"Serah is fine, not that I ever considered myself a Free Marcher."
"So what brings you to, well, here - me?"
The young Mage hesitated for a moment, the firelight from the hallway cast her in silhouette and he was unable to read her expression. Their last meeting had not gone particularly well and thus he was trying to keep his foot as far from his mouth as possible.
"The Joining today, it-"
"Horrible, I know", Alistair interrupted. "That was a first for me. Four recruits, all dead. Stroud was furious, I hadn't heard so many Orlesian curses since my childhood."
He paused in his rambling, the shadow before him was stone silent.
"I'm sorry, Bethany. I should let you - say your peace. Go on."
Bethany took a deep breath then exhaled long and slow, "What I meant to say is after all the tragedy tonight, it reminded me that once we take the Joining it wipes our pasts away. I'm no more an Apostate than you are a Templar. We're Wardens of the Order of the Grey and... nothing more, yet nothing less."
Alistair remained quiet, not quite believing he was being apologized to.
"Not many of the others have attempted to, hmph, welcome me. Stroud seemed surprised I staved off the corruption long enough to even undertake my Joining let alone survive it."
"Yeah, he did seem, well, whatever passes for pleased in his vast emotional gamut", Alistair crooked his finger under his nose like a mustache and stared unimpressed at his companion.
Bethany stifled a giggle, "Yes, thats nearly the exact face I woke to."
She looked around Alistair's room before asking, "Can we light a candle or lamp? I don't want to leave the door open and wake anyone."
"I think there is wall lamp - on the wall. Yeah. I'll light that."
As he hoped off his makeshift bed, Bethany slowly began to shut the door.
"Whoa, what're you - what will the others think?"
Bethany's darkened shape seemed to turn to face, Alistair, "I'm closing the door. I want to talk like I'm NOT in the middle of a graveyard, and I could give... a flying rat-dropping what the others think."
Alistair thought it over a moment before he carefully rubbed the dweomer of the rune that sat in a small stone shelf on the wall. It quickly formed a bright flame that lit the room.
"Besides", Bethany continued as she hugged herself and rubbed her arms, "its not like I don't know they consider me a fool and a charity case."
"No, they don't", Alistair tried to assure her.
"You don't have to lie to me. I may walk around like deeply engrossed in the goings on of my navel, but I can still listen. Besides I was trying to play the part of intrepid explorer hunting lost Dwarven treasures in the Deep Roads, so its not like I was doing anything particularly unfoolish."
Alistair padded his way back to his resting place and unceremoniously yanked the bedding off and placed it on the floor.
"Care to sit? There doesn't seem to be any kind of seating in this place, then again much like the Dead, apparently Wardens don't need to laze about on luxuries like stools or chairs."
A faint smile came to the girl's face as she settled down on the blanketing across from the room's living occupant.
"So you were training to be a Templar", she started their previous conversation anew.
"Ah yes, but I was the Good kind of Templar."
"Really now", this seemed to pique her interest.
"Oh yes, the kind that never wanted to be a Templar in the first place."
"This - is a revelation. Go on", her smile growing.
"I was given to the Chantry by my - guardian, the Arl of Redcliffe, so I could basically be out of his wife's tightly bunned hair, and also get a proper education. So beyond all the stories that probably circle amongst the Mages and Apostates, no they don't make stupid Templars. Many are just simply born that way."
Bethany collapsed on her side laughing, a small trickle of tears reflected in the firelight. Alistair was relieved, any previous tensions left between them seemed to have disappated, for once it appeared he might not make quite the ass of himself. She slowly returned to a more casual sitting position, this time she stared at him with an eagerness that yearned for more levity.
"Luckily, Duncan arrived shortly before I was to take my vows and officially join the Chantry - FOR-EV-ER!" he raised his hands and began to make spooky noises.
"Is it true they keep you - the Templars on lyrium to control them?"
"Sadly, yes. Its not pretty when they go mad from the years of quaffing flask after flask. I, myself, didn't get exposed to it but had I taken my vows - yes, I essentially woulda been their slave."
"So I guess its about as bad as being in the Circle of Magi, then? Restricted to a life of... drudgery."
Alistair carefully chose his next words, "I'm not entirely sure. From what I've seen and heard the conditions the Templars and Mages are treated by the Chantry vary from place to place. Kirkwall's sounded like quite the prison in that it made Ferelden's look like a summer retreat."
"Seriously?"
"I dunno how true that is, last time I was at Lake Calenhad I was trapped by a Demon named Torpor that had me convinced I was happily living a life surrounded by family", with that Alistair's own grin faded.
"I'm sorry, Alistair. I - what did happen to your family. You mention a guardian but no, parents or aunt or non-brothel patron of an uncle?"
Alistair shook his head in response, "I know little to nothing of my Mother. I only heard about my father from others. As for my brother, half brother, he fell along with so many others at Ostagar."
"My - my brothers fought in the King's Army there. They survived, somehow, and when they came to get Mother and I from Lothering, Carver... he", Bethany stopped and exchanged stares with Alistair. For a long moment there only sound in the tomb was their breathing.
"You two were close?" Alistair broke their eye contact along with the silence.
"Carver was my twin. Headstrong and always trying to claw his way out from the shadows of others. There was just - so much life in him. If he wasn't starting a fight he was pulling some kind of prank or up to something foolish but daring", Bethany took a moment to wipe fresh tears from her face.
Alistair lightly laughed to himself, "Yes, brothers are like that. Cai- my brother wanted his life to be one great, big, epic adventure. It was like a dream come true for him to fight the evil Darkspawn hordes alongside the storied Grey Wardens. His confidence and high spirits were just so - contagious."
"Did you - did you love your brother?"
Her question gave him pause. Alistair had never really consider it but since they were sharing and it was quite the rarity for anyone to give him and his life any consideration, he'd have to dig deep and answer carefully but truthfully.
"In - my own way, yes. There was no affection between us, again I lived a whole 'nother life apart from him, but when your cousin and I returned to Ostagar to retrieve some of his documents and personal possessions... it hurt me deeply when I, Maker, when we found his remains treated as they were. I don't even remember the words I spoke at his pyre."
Bethany sniffed back any remaining tears and began to shift from sitting position, "Do you mind if I... stay here, tonight?"
Alistair watched her curl up on the bedding and blankets in front of him without caring for his answer. In moments her breathing turned shallow and every so often a quiet whistle signalled her final descent into slumber.
"Goodnight, Bethany", he spoke before curling up beside her, both of them back to back.