Right, that's it - Brian seems to have officially become an Armour side character. *shrugs* What the mabari wants, the mabari gets.
Straw
Alistair
It's the first memory that hits him - straw, and that mabari-and-horse smell. He stands there, feeling like a fool, pretending not to inhale the memories. He hasn't been here since he was sent to the Chantry.
He hears the stable boys exchanging a crude joke in the used stalls. He learned his first curse here; when he'd asked what it meant, Isolde, reluctant to get her hands dirty, had made one of the servants beat him while she stood, watching, without a word. When she'd decided that it would suffice, she'd held up a hand and walked out of the room, expression emotionless. He'd never forgiven her.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair - even as a man, many years later, the memory makes him uncomfortable.
There are happier memories here, too: one of the stable hands, Rhynn, who, at the time, had seemed large and rather scary at first (he thinks about it and realizes with mixed surprise and melancholy that he'd actually be taller than the man now) who had tried his best to keep an eye on him. Tall, gruff, but smiled often. Taught him the value of good, hard work, did his best to bandage up the most painful injuries - the others, he'd reminded him, were all part of a life of labour, and Alistair had nodded, looking up in slight amazement at this wise man who seemed to know everything, or what counts as everything when you're eight - and tell him about the animals in the stable. Every night, when he'd go home to his wife and children, he'd pass Alistair a piece of food, without fail, patting him on the head and leaving. It was the best he'd get all day, and, years later, he realized it was cheese: Redcliffe Red, to be precise.
"Alistair?"
He'd known she'd find him eventually. He doesn't even know why he's here. To think? To burrow under the straw far enough that he can hide from the darkspawn? He sighs.
"Leliana said you were doubling back to see Bann Teagan. Check on Connor."
"I was." Well, it's true. Sort of. He hasn't seen Connor since he was ten years old, and he wasn't a mage back then... Wait. He's always been a mage. They just didn't know.
She joins him. "Isolde made you sleep here, didn't she?"
He begins to protest that she had her reasons, that Eamon was good to him, but she shakes her head. "Yes, she had her reasons - that she was a jealous bitch and you were too young to protest. Eamon was old enough to know better than to bow to her will." She runs her hand through her hair in frustration - he's sure she never used to do that before - and then turns. "Teagan?"
He shakes his head, all will to see his uncle gone. "Maybe later." He wonders how her encounter with Jowan went, but doesn't dare to ask.
As they begin to walk back to the village gates, where they were supposed to meet, she says conversationally, "You know, considering you grew up here, you'd think you'd be better with mabari."
"I'm fine with mabari," is his defensive reply, even though he's actually not too sure. "I just didn't know they could hold grudges."
"Brian does not hold a grudge against you. That's ridiculous."
"Explain that to what were my only dry pair of socks."
"Your... socks?"
"From the Chantry. They even had my name sti - " He cuts himself off, seeing the expression on her face. "What?"