Dragon Age Origins and all characters belong to Bioware. Love them, for they are our creative overlords.

A/N: Sooooo uh, this one kind of ran away from me a bit. Never the less, it was fun to write. It also irritated the shit out of my husband, because I should have been packing instead of typing. Two weeks in Florida with the In-laws, which is actually a lot better then it seems. Just so long as they don't make me go swimming in the ocean. I dislike beaches. Sand, salt, and seaweed are not my idea of a good time. Give me a comfortably shaded pool side deck chair, a good book, and a rum and coke!

Next update will be posted when I return home, lobster red and ready for New England's Leaf season to start early. *raises glass* Please review, good or bad. I'd love to hear your opinions!

He wasn't sure how exactly it had happened, but Alistair had managed the most amazing feat of luck he'd ever been privileged to stumble across in his whole life. Which, considering the current trend of luck, it wasn't completely unexpected anymore. Between secret side missions, crazy witches, good timing, and their ability to find people willing to assist in their task, he did have to admit that he felt pretty lucky. Most of the time, anyway. Especially on nights like this one.

They were headed back towards Redcliff after visiting the strangest town in all of Thedas. Haven. The city had been full of Andrastian Dragon Cultists. Seriously. He still wasn't sure how it had all managed to coalesce into that particular combination. The town had been built to guard the Ashes of everyone's favorite prophet, and some where along the line of generations they'd swapped to dragon worship. In fact, they'd even named their humungous high dragon after her.

When they'd made camp for the evening, it had been a silent, tiresome task. The whole experience had drained the group of people they traveled with. They'd killed that high dragon, and many of them were crispy with bits of burned clothing and singed hair. It hadn't been an easy task, and he was silently grateful that La-la had insisted the whole lot of them accompany her.

What had been worse then the dragon-cultists, the waves of dragonlings, drakes, and finally the huge, angry high dragon, had been the gauntlet. Alistair wasn't what you'd call the most religious person. Mind you he was more believing then Morrigan or Zevran. Heck, until that day, he was pretty sure that La-la was less faithful then the whole lot of them, outside of Sten, for obvious reasons.

Yet, when they'd entered the temple, there had been a guardian. That guardian had asked very, very personal questions of each of them. It had been both profound, and disturbing. His own question had been about his guilt over Duncan. It tore the wound raw, and left him feeling exposed and bleeding. He could only imagine what it had done to the others. Even Sten and Morrigan had been disturbed by the level of... intimacy, these questions had.

Worse yet, was the third test. It had been a single image of Asyla's cousin, Shianni. The vision had disturbed her profoundly. He knew, as did the rest of them, that she blamed herself for what had happened to her younger cousin. After their visit to Denerim to find Brother Genitivi, They'd found out that the Alienage was locked out, due to a purge ordered by Arl Howe. She'd spent most of the journey to Haven in silence.

"Hey."

Asyla had stuttered, her tears falling freely as she stared endlessly at the image of her cousin. The red haired elf looked so very much like His La-la, almost as if this woman was nothing more then a younger version. There were subtle differences, but so much of them were alike. They shared the same flame-colored hair, the same forest green eyes.. even the way this image held itself was a shadow of the beautiful woman he'd come to care about. "..Sh..Shianni?"

The spirit gave Asyla a lopsided smile, "Who else? It's good to see you, I suppose."

Asyla lunged forward, bringing her arms up to hug the woman, the image, in front of them all. A strangled squeak and the rush of air was all that returned. The look of pained loss so stark on her beautiful face that it broke his heart.

She, the image, just continued to smile warmly at Asyla, "Life outside the city's been good to you, hasn't it? You're respected, loved, even among humans."

Instinctively he'd placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. Beside him, Zevran stood tall, and Leliana took point on the other side. Behind them, Sten had shifted, holding his blade at the ready to cut down anything that might threaten to harm his "Kadan". Alistair could feel the magic building from both Wynne, and even Morrigan. The spirit had this correct. They loved this petite, flame-haired elf, respected her, and would protect her even from this. This horrible, cruel trick of a test.

The spirit was talking, still. "Do you remember us, cousin? Where you came from, and what some of us still face every day?"

Alistair could hear the hitch in Asyla's voice as she spoke, "Oh, Shianni... I.. I'm so sorry. I wish I could bring you with me.. I... I wish I could free you all.." and he squeezed her shoulder gently, to let her know that if that's what she asked of them, they, no he, would help.

The spirit's face fell, washing over with concern. The love in those green eyes could never have been faked, and it gave Alistair a shiver to think that this was more then just some trick of magic. "Really? I.. thank you, but that will take time. More time then you have to spare. Don't be sorry.. What happened, it wasn't your fault. You where caught in the situation, like all of us. You saved us, just like you're trying to do now. It's a great task, and you must complete it."

The spirit reached out a single hand, "Here, take this. I want you to have it..." Asyla gingerly reached out with her own hand, having just found out first hand that the image before her was not solid. The Shianni-spirit gently dropped a silver necklace into Asyla's open hand.

"I will see you again soon, cousin. Be safe." the spirit smiled lovingly at its cousin, and faded from view, leaving Asyla and the rest of them staring at empty air.

He shuddered, staring endlessly at the fire. The memory of that moment had wiped away any elation he might have been feeling about his luck. You see, he'd managed to convince her to take watch with him tonight, rather then split them up. He'd offered to pull a double, not even believing that she'd agree. She'd been spending her watches with Zevran for a few weeks.

Now, it was his turn. After what he'd overheard in Denerim, combined with his recent decision to look out for himself and his own interests for once in his life, something she herself had suggested, he'd decided that it was time to show her what a real man might look like. Zevran was suave, with smooth words and sensual looks.

Alistair grinned lopsidedly at the fire. Leliana had told him that his innocent awkwardness was charming, and sometimes a woman wanted real affection and awkward charm more then she wanted the devil-may-care-suave bad boy act. Thus, he'd do just that. He'd be himself, and show her what it looked like when a man truly cared for a woman, rather then just wanting her for a steamy-tent romp. Not, that he didn't want to try that with her. ...Maker...

"So, Ali... why so gun-ho to pull a double watch?" She asked him, and he pulled his eyes away from the fire, swallowing the images that had begun to dance in the flames.

"I, uh, well.. I wanted to spend some time with you." He swallowed again, his heart racing. He tried to recover, from what exactly he wasn't sure, "We don't really get to just hang out anymore, you and I. All these other people are always so needy with their.. need..." Maker, it's hot out here tonight, "for your attention."

She chuckled lightly, setting her blades down against the stump she was using as a seat. "I do miss our talks. Maybe you're right. We don't spend nearly enough time together anymore." Asyla purred at him. Or maybe he was just imagining it. She always spoke softly, breathy with an edge of dangerousness that had weaker men then he bowing under her suggestions. Once he had throught her one had been from years of trying not to bring attention to herself. Now, right at this moment, he didn't believe that anymore.

"So, Alistair," a rare use of his full name. It send shivers down his spine, "Why didn't you tell me right out of the gate that you were a prince?"

He felt his stomach drop, and the familiar wave of panic at that word spread across his abdomen. "Maker's breath, woman, don't call me that. It's not who I am."

She laughed, which caused a different reaction entirely in his abdomen. It sounded like twinkling bells, like angelic voices singing the chant, like wind chimes... good, wholesome, and beautiful things. "Oh I don't know about that. Did'ja know that I saw him once, when I was little? I was 5, maybe 6 years old at the time."

He rose a tawny eyebrow, forcing himself to keep his eyes steady with those Maker blessedly beautiful forest green eyes of hers. "Who?"

"Maric. He was so handsome. I told Soris that I was going to grow up and marry him. He teased me endlessly for years about it, too." She smirked, twisting her fingers carefully through that utterly silken and gorgeous flame colored hair around a finger. He itched to do that, run his fingers through those straight, red-and-gold shoulder length locks that she usually kept tightly bound at the back of her head.

"I only met him once too," he mused, trying to distract himself from all the images trying to invade his mind. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat before continuing, "He had come to Redcliff to see the Arl. I was 7. He had brought Cailen, who spoke exactly four words to me before running off to the armory to play with the swords."

"You look like how I remember him," she said with a smile. Maker she's got such a beautiful smile.. "What was he like, in person?"

"Intimidating... amazing. He looked down at me with such... regret. I've wondered my whole life if he regretted more, me, or the fact that he couldn't raise me himself. I figure it's the first, since he never came back after that visit. The Arl went to Denerim if Maric needed to see him."

"Oh, Alistair.." her voice hitched, which caused his skin to crawl with heat, "I doubt he regretted you. How could anyone regret you?" Her voice was so earnest in tone at her plea that he almost believed it. At the very least it made it clear that she believed it.

He was having a hard time breathing, suddenly, "Oh, I don't know," he managed to squeak out, "Morrigan might have a thing or two to say about that, I'm sure." he teased lightly.

"Yes well, I'm not Morrigan."

No, thank the maker, you definitely aren't Morrigan. She couldn't begin to even hold a candle to you...

"Hmm, that's kind of you to say."

"I.. uh... maker, did I say that out loud? I.. uh.. heh." He was going to die. She was going to get up and slice his throat open, and he'd let her, because he couldn't believe that he'd muttered that instead of thought it.

She looked amused, "You never did tell me why you kept your secret from me." Blissfully, she changed the subject. One more reason to love her..

"I.. uhhum.. I just, didn't want it lording, heh, get it.. lording over me any more. It didn't matter, because I was never meant to be king. The only ones who it ever seemed to matter to was everyone else. It colored my whole life. Even Duncan kept me out of most of the fighting because of it." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He took a moment to scratch at his head, doing his very best job to ruin what had taken him an hour to make perfect that very morning.

"I just wanted you to like me for who I was." He said meekly, dipping his head down as he looked at the ground. It was true, he had wanted to be accepted as just another person, not some would be bastard-prince. He had the inkling that she'd pulled away after she'd found out, rather then because of Zevran's presence.

"I still do like you for who you are. I just wish you would have told me sooner so I could have dealt with it and been over it a lot sooner then I have. I might have..." her pause caused him to look up at her, a tawny eyebrow raised in question. She was biting her utterly luscious and kissable bottom lip as if trying to keep her words from escaping.

His heart was pounding, and he silently cursed himself for not having his heavy armor on. The thin leather of his breeches was hardly counseling. What had she been about to say? Should he push for her to finish that tantalizing and agonizing sentence?

He thought about it, about what she might be hiding as he watched her. She was standing now, her tight and firm backside turned in his direction as she bent over to slide a dagger into her leather boots. He let his eyes linger there for a moment, reveling in the wonderful throbbing ache spreading through his lower bits.

"Come walk the boundaries with me?" He heard himself say before he could stop himself. It needed to be done, regardless, but his mind was lingering on the rose he had tucked away in his pack. He'd picked it in Lothering, and once Wynne had joined them he'd had her preserve it.

"Alright," she muttered, tucking the last of her daggers into their various sheaths and hiding places. He stood and moved to gather his sword and shield. He didn't bother with his armor. He could sense no darkspawn nearby, so they were in no real danger. For just one, precious moment, he contemplated taking his cloth tunic off and walking around bare chested.

After that moment had passed, he decided not to press his luck, and instead retrieved the rose and tucked it into his shield.

Asyla quietly mused that she really aught to thank Leli for bringing her attention to Alistair's crush. Because Andraste's flaming ass, was this man good looking. Zevran was handsome, with mocha skin and long sandy hair, but Alistair was all muscle and bulk and .. and.. maker if she didn't stop this mode of thought she'd jump him right here and now..

"Are you ready? You take longer to get dressed the Leli does." She teased, waiting just outside of his tent with her arms crossed, just under her breasts in a desperate bid to make them seem bigger. She'd always hated her veritable lack of human-sized curves. Shianni had been gifted with her aunt's more svelte figure, which had always caused the three of them all sorts of trouble once she'd hit puberty. Asyla looked more like her own mother in figure.

Not to say she wasn't pretty, because she was and knew it. It just meant she had to use other wiles when she'd actually wanted male attention. She wasn't a "falling head over heals" kind of girl, but she wasn't above enjoying some company now and again. As she waited for Alistair to grab his things, she ran her hands over her tight leather pants and adjusted her cloth shirt. It wasn't as long or as loose as Alistair's tunic was. Instead it was nearly as form-fitting as the leather armor she wore during battle. The cloth kept her skin protected from the various buckles and bone ribbing. It also kept the Ferelden damp and cold out.

She frowned, realizing that unlike her leather chest plate, her shirt did very little to pronounce her bosom. She contemplated putting it on, just to give herself a, boost, as It were. It didn't really matter, in the end, and after a moments silent debate she opted to leave the heavier bits of armor. She also opted to keep her hair down for a change. She quietly cursed the maker that she hadn't brought a mirror or any rouge.

"Sorry. Ready?" Alistair asked as he emerged from his tent, tall and broad. Maker, what had Leli gotten her into? His lopsided smile caused her breath to hitch in her chest, so she as forced to just nod.

He gestured towards the edge of camp, "After you, La-la. Wouldn't want to out-walk you with out meaning to." he teased, his eyes twinkling with playfulness. She scoffed.

"My legs are not that short." she replied with mock indignation. "I'm an elf, not a dwarf." she huffed, folding her arms over her chest and doing her very best fake-stalk. She hoped the effect came off as she walked ahead of him, swinging her hips.

He laughed, and after a solid five moments, which she was positive he was watching her backside as she walked, fell in step beside her with little effort. The pair of them walked in relative silence for a while, and her mind ran away with her as she watched him moving out of the corner of her eye.

His muscles move so fluidly under that cloth. What would they look like under you? Maker, he's good looking. I should have let him go first, so I could stare at his ass instead. I wonder if its as firm as it looks? What have I gotten myself into? I'm going to kill Leli when she gets up. Did I bring my 'murder knife', or did I leave it in my breastplate? I wish my breasts were bigger, maker why did they make elves so petite? His wrists are bigger then my thighs!

"La-la?"

Oh Maker..

She tried to catch her breath, his voice having startled her out of the ramblings of her mind. "I.. Yes?" It took her a few moments to realize that he'd stopped walking. He was just standing there, by the edge of the small pond they'd camped near, looking tall and adorable.

"Get a look at this.. Maker its huge tonight..." He was pointing up at the sky, awe etched over his features. She hadn't even noticed how bright it had been, until she looked up and found herself being assaulted by a fat and swollen full moon.

"Andraste's ass.." was all she could manage, staring breathlessly at the open sky. The full moon hung low and fat in the sky, illuminating everything around them in a breathtaking silvery light. Behind it, the stars twinkled against the silky backdrop of pure midnight.

"I know... its like seeing that urn all over again." he muttered, having at some point moved to stand next to her. She shivered, a feeling that she couldn't describe or explain washing over her one more time. The urn had brought a realness to the stories she hadn't bothered to ever really believe he whole life, and one more time she found it hard to breath. She'd never been very religious... but now she could claim that her faith was very real.

In her quiet moment of contemplation, she heard him speak, his voice barely a whisper, "...like how I felt when you came out of Flemeth's hut, alive."

She twisted to face him, realizing that he wasn't looking at the moon any longer...

He was looking down at her, drinking in every bit of detail he could make out in the illumination of the full moon. Her normally flame-colored hair looked wine-heady in the silvery darkness, shimmering like satin in the light. He reached down to touch it, running his rough hands through the silken strands. His breath was caught in his throat, and tears sprang into his eyes.

"Maker, you're beautiful." he breathed, knowing that beautiful wasn't even close to the words required to describe this woman standing in front of him, looking up at him with eyes the color of emeralds, fresh grass, whole forests full of healthy leaves in mid-summer...

She looked away, those eyes falling to the ground or somewhere equally not him, rosy color blooming on her pale cheeks. He swallowed hard, bringing his hand to brush gently across one of those amazingly porcelain cheeks. He ran his thumb across the warm blush, his heart threatening to explode from his chest. He slid his hand under her chin, to tilt it up, to bring those eyes back to him.

"Asyla" he whispered, dipping his head to brush his lips across those dewy, rose-kissed things that made other lips ashamed to be called by the same word. Gently, ever so gently, because he feared that he might break her, because she felt fragile and feather-light in his arms as he wove them around her, he kissed her and those lips.

He kissed her, pressing his lips against hers, fire racing through his limbs as he felt her rise up on her toes to meet his lips. They returned with feeling, heat, want. It was like he was drowning in feeling, want, heat, soft lips... an angel, and he'd happily die right then.

He lifted her, just as feather light as he imagined she'd be, so that she wouldn't have to reach so very far. He never once pulled his mouth from hers, breathing wasn't even something he could do anymore, with her tucked in his arms. He held her, lead her to a rocky outcropping, his mouth moving against hers, his fingers in her hair.

The words she had spoken to him echoed in the back of his mind as he managed to find a spot to sit, pulling the petite angel into his lap. "That's how the world is, Alistair. You need to look after yourself and your own needs." Oh and he was. He wanted her, needed her, this angel disguised as a woman that he was kissing. He slid his lips down, away from those lusciously delicious lips of hers and down to her pale throat.

A breathy, "Alistair.." escaped those lips, and he groaned, because it sounded exactly as he'd hoped it would. He moved his lips across her throat, brushing them softly against the warm flesh, bringing his tongue to taste it. Every inch of her was a blissful combination of sweet and salty. He wove his fingers into that silky red hair, goose bumps erupting over his flesh as he kissed.

He brought his mouth back up to meet hers, the experience as shockingly amazing as it had been the first time. He felt himself press against her, the thin cloth and leather separating their flesh was maddening. A beautiful, horribly maddening that caused him to groan again, though his lips never left hers. He could feel her hands in her hair, on his neck, pressing against his shoulders, and it only drove him onward, his tongue parting her lips.

It was some time later, he didn't even know how long it had been, before they detached themselves from each other. He left his forehead pressed gently against hers, their noses touching. His arms never left her hips, even if she was planted firmly in his lap. Her legs here wrapped around his waist, and she was panting, trying to catch the breath he'd stolen when he had kissed her that way.

He hated to do it, but if he didn't break the silence he knew he'd just kiss her again, and the rose would go unattended to. "..So"

A smile bloomed across her face, causing his heart to ache with how very much he loved her. "So... I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that."

He chuckled, letting his deep voice rumble his chest. He felt a tremble course through her, "Well I hadn't planned on doing it.. well, I mean, not yet, anyway."

She snickered, "You're so adorable, do you know that?" and rubbed her nose against his lightly.

"Hmm I think I may have heard that once or twice before. Couldn't hurt to hear again though, I expect." he teased, impressed with his ability to even think around her, especially when she was sitting in his lap running those deft hands through his hair.

She laughed fully at that, which just caused him to rumble, pulling his forehead away from hers to nuzzle at that delicious hollow between her throat and her breastbone. "So.. mm what were you going to do then, if not kiss me like that. Because I could stand to be kissed like that again... and possibly again."

"Ah... well, It could be arranged if you'd like. But, first.." he unwrapped his arms from her waist to grab up his shield. He plucked the rose out from the lining, letting his shield fall back to the stone with a clatter. He flinched slightly, because that particular clink meant he'd have to spend time buffing out a scratch. He'd worry about it another time though, because there was a beautifully supple woman sitting in his lap at the moment.

"D'jou know what this is?" He asked her tentatively, twirling the stem between his forefinger and thumb.

"...Is, it your new weapon of choice?" She questioned him. Her mind was running a mile a minute, and her body was still screaming at her to just pull his pants off and let it have its way with him. That kiss had been... maker there wasn't a word strong enough to describe it. She'd never been kissed like that before. Thus, she heard herself ask the dumbest of questions when he had produced a perfect red rose.

He was laughing, which sent all sorts of good feelings through her limbs, "Yes! That's right! Watch, as I thrash our enemies with the power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn, ha! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"

She giggled, actually giggled, clinging to his shoulders as he jostled her around, thrashing at imaginary darkspawn while she remained in his lap, legs woven around his back. After a moment of silliness, he settled back down, shifting her slightly so she could rest against his chest. He went right back to twirling the rose between his fingertips.

"Or," he took a deep breath, "It could just be a rose. I know that's pretty dull, in comparison..."

She went to interrupt him, but he was still talking, "I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it." He sighed, brushing his chin across the top of her head.

"So, I've had it ever since."

Her heart swelled, and she was sure she was going to melt into a puddle, right there, in his lap. The idea that he'd picked a rose to save it's beauty was so amazingly sweet and .. just like him to do that she squeezed her arms tight. "That's a nice sentiment..." she murmured, kneading her face against the cloth of his shirt and the solid muscles beneath.

"Hmm, I thought that I might... give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways I think the same thing when I look at you."

Oh Maker, I really am going to melt into a puddle. I'm going to melt and pour out through the bottoms of my boots. "Oh Alistair.. thank you. I..it's a lovely thought."

His hand slipped under her chin, tilting it up to look at him. Those hazel eyes of his were unfathomable,and she fought off the urge to kiss him. Only because he was talking again, though. She did very much enjoy the sound of his voice.

"I'm glad you like it. I've just been thinking... here I am, doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. " He ran his fingers gently through her hair, which caused her to shiver. "You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death, and fighting, and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say.. something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find among all this.. darkness."

Warmth spread throughout her, looking up into those eyes and hearing that he thought she was beautiful. "I.. I... I know what you mean." the words felt lackluster, as if the meaning behind them paled in comparison to the beautiful words he'd given her. Gently she plucked the rose from his fingers, and tucked it behind one ear. "Thank you."

"Hmm, I'm glad you like it. Now.. if we could, just move on past all this awkward, embarrassing stuff and right on to the steamy bits that would be great."

"That can be arranged..."

As his lips met hers, he thought to himself, "Yes, you are definitely a lucky man."