Surely I'm not the only one who spotted the irony here, comparing the whole "bastard prince" and "Warden" thing.
Blood
Alistair
"Why did you hide your birthright?" There is a soft sound of wool against wool as she sits down beside him. She's been wearing tunics since Lothering, but the realization takes him by surprise. She wears breeches?
The question surprises him as well, and he's really not too sure what to say.
"I... didn't want to be treated differently. Didn't want my blood to rule who I was, I suppose."
She looks at him for a moment. The comment is thoughtful, and he's sure the twinkle in her eye isn't from the firelight. "You didn't want your blood to rule who you were... yet you're proud of being a Grey Warden, where the taint defines you?"
He's about to reply, to say that the Wardens make you give up family names, something, but he's temporarily rendered speechless, so he says instead, "What are you going to do with Jowan?"
She looks him in the eye again, surprised, then slowly exhales. "Not my choice. I told him to stay behind, he tried to help them, so maybe..." She looks hopeful. "... Maybe he'll have a chance at freedom."
The part of him that was raised with a knowledge of how the Chantry works, that knows Teagan too well, knows that Jowan, no matter how much he means to her, is still a maleficar, knows that won't happen, but he sees something in her eyes as she pretends to stare into the fire and not care about his reply that stops him from saying it. He remembers the mage trying to restrain childlike wonder at the rain, the woman that held onto the cell bars at Redcliffe and stood by helping a maleficar escape because he was her friend, and it hits him that this uncaring warrior attitude... it's an act, and for the first time since he's known her, he's actually scared of hurting her. The epiphany shakes him. He responds with a quiet, "Maybe," and joins her in staring at the fire.
The truth is for tomorrow.