A/N: Happy New Year! It comes with a new chapter for everybody :). As always, thanks to all those who have favorited, followed, and read the story. I love all the favorites :) but I wouldn't mind a few words with them too!
Special thanks go to draupadi for the review, PheonixTears589 for her constant reviews and humbling support of my story, and dude41 for the nice long review as well! Please R & R everybody, it totally makes my day! Hope you enjoy the latest chapter!
Disclaimer: Don't own Alistair, DA or related characters/dialogue. I do own the rest of this story though!
Chapter 22: Family
They had reached the base camp the very next night, and after a supper and reunion in which they'd relayed everything that had happened in the forest to those that had been left behind, Ayla had pulled Leliana aside to have the talk she so badly needed.
Much to her surprise, things between her and Alistair had not been awkward today. Just as she'd asked, he hadn't made one mention of his confession, and instead had joked and flirted with her as normal. He'd even kissed her once today when he'd found the opportunity. What was more surprising and disturbing was the fact that she had so easily fallen back into their usual pattern with him; she hadn't felt once like she wanted to push him away or run from him.
With all that in mind, she knew she needed to sort things out as soon as possible, so she dragged Leliana off a distance away from the others, allowing them to settle for the night and do as they wished, though she did not leave the clearing altogether.
"What did you wish to talk about?" Leliana asked brightly as she sat down cross-legged on the grass. "Hair? Shoes? Music?"
"Uh . . . no," Ayla replied, frowning at the bard as she sat down herself. Much as she liked to talk about music, she'd never understood Leliana's fascination for hair, shoes, and clothing. Maybe it had something to do with living in that Orlais country, or wherever it was she was from. "Actually, I wanted to ask your advice about a . . . problem I'm having."
"Oh, of course!" Leliana nodded. "I would be happy to offer you whatever advice I can." She looked at Ayla expectantly.
How exactly to put this? Ayla wondered. She wasn't entirely sure she understood what exactly the problem was herself; how was she to make Leliana understand? "Well . . . it has to do with Alistair," she began, looking down at her hands. "He . . . while we were gone, he told me that he loves me." That was probably the most immediate and pressing problem.
"Why, that is wonderful news!" Leliana squealed. She frowned as she studied Ayla's face more closely. "I am afraid I do not understand what the problem is . . . but you do not seem pleased."
"No . . . I mean . . . well, maybe I am, I'm not sure." Ayla heaved a sigh. "The problem is, I do not know how I feel about him. I do not know if I love him, and I do not know if I want to love him. I desire him, certainly, but . . . that was all I really planned on. I didn't really . . . want anything more."
Leliana's frown deepened. "I definitely do not understand. Why would you not want to love him? Alistair is a very good man. Is there someone else from your own country that you care for? Or . . . is it because you intend to return to your own country when this is all over and do not want complications?"
"No, it is not any of that," Ayla shook her head, frustrated. This was more difficult to explain than she'd feared it would be. "I do not plan to go back to Fallor if I can help it, and there is not any man at home that I care for in that way, either. And it is not that there is anything wrong with Alistair. It is just that . . . I never wanted to love anyone. I . . . well, I'm . . . afraid to, I suppose." Yes, that was her. Brave in battle, a downright coward when it came to emotions.
"Oh." Leliana's face cleared, sympathy and understanding coloring her features now. "I see. Did you have your heart broken before? Because I do not believe Alistair would ever treat you badly."
Ayla looked at the bard, feeling semi-exasperated. Why was it so difficult for her to understand the reason why someone would be afraid to love? "No, I have never been in love before. That is why I am not certain how I feel about him. And I know he would never deliberately hurt me." Any doubts she might have had about that had been banished the moment he'd accepted her shapeshifting abilities so wholeheartedly. "But . . . that does not mean that he would not die on me."
"Ah." Leliana smiled gently. "Now we get to the heart of the problem. You are afraid to love him and lose him."
"Yes," Ayla sighed, ashamed as she looked down, not wanting to meet Leliana's gaze. "So, tell me, how can I keep myself from falling in love with him? How can I keep my heart intact?"
"Oh, Ayla." Leliana sounded so disappointed, she couldn't help but look back up at her. The bard's face was troubled. "Is that really what you want? If you are already concerned that you are losing your heart to him, I do not believe there is any way to stop that, short of leaving him altogether, and even that might not work. Do you want to leave him – to leave us?"
Ayla shook her head, slowly. As often as part of her felt she had wanted to run, she had never truly considered it as an option. She wanted to see this Blight, this journey, through. She could not leave them now, not when they needed help so much. And to never see Alistair again? To never again feel the fire his touch brought out in her, the desire he could make her feel with nothing more than a glance, and the comfort she'd discovered he could bring to her? She didn't know if she could handle that, didn't even want to truly consider it. "I don't . . . but . . . if I let myself love him, and then something happened to him . . . I do not know if I could handle it. In fact, I'm fairly certain I could not handle losing someone I love, not ever again. Could I not just . . . pull away from him, maybe?"
"Hmmm." Leliana's expression was suddenly unreadable. "Could you pull away from him? Tell him you do not want him anymore, break his heart, but continue to travel with him, see him every day, and not be with him?"
"Ah . . ." Ayla looked away again. Break his heart . . . she'd already had the chance to do that, and hadn't been able to bring herself to hurt him like that. And wouldn't that bring about the same problem of still wanting him, but not being able to have him, with the added torture of seeing him all the time?
"Allow me to put this a different way," Leliana continued, overriding her silence. "Let us say you did pull away, in order to protect your heart. Are you saying that if you pulled away from Alistair, and he died in battle tomorrow, you would not care? It would not hurt you? You would brush it off as though it did not matter?"
Ayla stared at Leliana in shock, feeling as though she'd been struck. If Alistair died in battle tomorrow . . . the very thought made her ill. She couldn't even begin to process it, didn't even want to imagine it. "I . . . I . . ." she stammered. Would she truly be able to brush it off? Would it truly not hurt her? She had witnessed the deaths of two men she'd been with before in battle, ones that she had only briefly been with. Though she was certain she had not loved them, it had of course still hurt to lose them, but she had been able to get over it eventually. But Alistair . . . even if she pulled away from him now . . . she suspected her reaction would be far more shattering than anything she'd previously experienced.
"I know you are afraid of what could happen," Leliana said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder gently. "But if you pulled away, and something did happen to him, I think you would regret it. I believe you are already in too deep for it not to hurt when you lose him – so you should spend every moment you can with him, and try not to worry about what might happen if you lost him. Would you rather experience the pain of losing him – or the pain of losing him and the regret of not having been with him when you had the chance?"
Ayla stared at her, trying to wrap her mind around it, trying to equate it to something she knew. Had she wished she'd never loved her father, so that losing him wouldn't have hurt her the way that it had? No, of course not. She'd only regretted that she hadn't spent more time with him before she'd lost him – and, of course, that she hadn't gone with him that day. "I . . . think . . . I'd rather . . . not pull away from him," she murmured at last. "But . . . I still . . . I don't know that it will be so easy to get away from this fear."
"Of course it will not," Leliana replied gently. "The only advice I can offer you is to try not to think about it. Just let things between you happen naturally. Try not to force things one way or the other. I can assure you that at least with Alistair you will not suffer the ultimate heartbreak." A shadow passed across the bard's face at her last words.
"What could be more heartbreaking than losing someone you love?" Ayla asked, confused at Leliana's words.
"Having the one you love, that you thought loved you, betray you and try to have you killed," Leliana retorted with sudden bitterness. "I can tell you from experience that I would rather Marjolaine had died than to have her betray me."
Marjolaine? Oh . . . Leliana must be one of those women who enjoyed both the company of women and men, Ayla realized, judging by the way she'd eyed up Aedan until it had been clear his interest lay with Morrigan. Not that it bothered her; relationships between those of the same gender were not frowned upon in Fallor, and she'd had offers from women before, though she'd turned them down, being only interested in men herself. "How did this Marjolaine betray you?" she asked, curious as to what could have made the normally gentle Leliana so bitter.
Leliana hesitated, looking at her for a long moment before saying, "Bards in Orlais are not always simple minstrels. They are . . . sometimes spies, who gather information at the bidding of a patron. Usually it is nobles spying on other nobles. I was one such bard, and Marjolaine was my mentor and my friend. She taught me the bardic arts, how to enchant with words or songs, to carry myself like a high-born lady, to blend in as a servant. I used to serve her, my bard master, because I loved her, and because I enjoyed what I did."
After a long moment of studying her hands, Leliana went on, "I thought I knew her. My devotion to her blinded me to her faults. At her request, I hunted down a man who had some documents, killed him and took the documents. I ended up opening them, though I was not supposed to, and discovered Marjolaine had been selling all kinds of information about Orlais to other countries. It was treason."
Ayla frowned, puzzled as to what the problem was. "Didn't you say that is what bards do? Why is that a betrayal?"
Leliana shook her head. "It was not that; my concern was not that she was a traitor, but that her life would be in danger if she was caught. I had to tell Marjolaine I feared for her life. She brushed aside my concerns; she admitted her guilt, but said it was in the past. That was why the documents had to be destroyed, she said. I believed her; I kept believing her up until the moment they showed me the documents, altered by her hand to make me look the traitor." She finished the last in a whisper, her eyes reflecting her pain at the long ago betrayal.
"Oh," Ayla murmured, understanding at last. "I'm so sorry, Leliana." Leliana was right; whatever else might happen, Ayla could never imagine Alistair betraying her, or endangering her like that. It would indeed be terrible to have the one you loved betray you in such a way; she could understand why Leliana would rather have lost this Marjolaine of hers. She looked up at Leliana, asking, "What happened after that, if you do not mind telling me? How did you end up here?"
Leliana swallowed, looking away for a moment before saying, "The Orlesian guards captured me after that, did terrible things to me to make me confess. It was a traitor's punishment I endured, and all that awaited at the end of it was eternity in an unmarked grave. The skills Marjolaine taught me were good for something, at least. I broke free when I saw the opportunity. I did not seek Marjolaine out; if she thought I was coming for her, she would have me caught again. I was tempted to confront her; I was furious, betrayed. But what could I do? And so I fled to Ferelden, to the Chantry and the Maker." Looking at Ayla again, she said at last, "So perhaps you see what I mean, then."
Ayla nodded, slowly, feeling sympathy for the bard who had become her friend. She could certainly see what she had meant by the ultimate heartbreak. "Thank you for telling me – and thank you for the advice. I think – I think you've helped me figure out what is the right thing to do, instead of the cowardly thing to do. I owe you much; if you ever need anything, you have only to ask me."
Leliana smiled sadly, squeezing her hand. "Thank you. It feels good to get all that off my chest. But you do not owe me anything; we are friends, no? I was happy to help a friend."
Ayla shrugged and smiled, returning the pressure of Leliana's hand before releasing it. "If we are friends, then I will be happy to help you if you need it. Just let me know."
"You are stubborn," Leliana remarked, shaking her head before a more genuine smile broke across her face. "Very well, if you insist, the next time I need help I will come to you." She paused suddenly, staring at something past Ayla's shoulder. She was facing towards the rest of the camp, while Ayla had her back to it. "Oh, my, now that is a sight to see," the bard said, raising her eyebrows.
"What?" Ayla turned to look, and saw Alistair, who had obviously just come back from washing up, standing in front of his tent with no tunic on as he rooted through his pack, water dripping down his bare chest in the light of the fire. She felt her mouth go dry as lust zipped through her veins, making her ache with longing. "I swear, he is trying to drive me to distraction," she grumbled.
"Is he succeeding?" Leliana asked from behind her, obviously amused.
Ayla had the sudden suspicion that he really was doing this on purpose, which was confirmed when Alistair looked up suddenly and caught her watching him. A slow smile spread across his face as a look of mischief flashed in his eyes. She was suddenly amused at his boldness. "Yes, he is, but two can play at that game." She turned back to the bard and winked. "Please excuse me, Leliana, I have some business to attend to."
Leliana grinned widely, waving her hand. "Of course, feel free."
Ayla turned back and stood up, walking over to Alistair, who was watching her approach as he scrubbed himself dry with the towel he'd produced from his pack, before he tossed it aside as she reached him. His smile widened when she stopped in front of him. "Something you need, my lady?"
"Hmm, yes, I think there is," she answered, placing her palms flat on his chest before trailing them down to his abdomen. If he wanted to play with fire, she was going to make him burn.
"Um, Ayla, what are you doing?" he asked breathlessly as she carefully traced every ridge on his impressive torso, running her hands over every inch of exposed skin. "We are in the middle of camp, anyone could see –" he gasped as she suddenly slipped her hands beneath the waist of his leggings.
His eyes widened as he grabbed her wrists, forcibly pulling her hands out and keeping them at her sides. "We can't do that here!" he exclaimed in a low voice, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. Ayla could hear the faint sound of Leliana chuckling, although she didn't think anybody else was watching.
She smiled as she tried to tug her hands away from him and he refused to let go. She found it rather arousing when he used his superior strength against her like this. "Maybe you should not wander half-naked around camp, trying to tempt me on purpose, then."
"I was not –" he began, but when she raised her eyebrows at him, he conceded, "Okay, maybe I was." He gave her a suddenly hopeful look. "Did it work?"
She laughed. "Maybe a little, so I thought I should return the favour." Though she couldn't move her arms, she had enough leverage to press her hips into his, causing him to groan, though it would have been more effective had she not still been in her armor. She leaned up to whisper by his ear, "You know, I still need to wash up. Care to join me?"
"I . . . I would love to," he murmured huskily, face flushing, "but I'm afraid I have first watch again. We wouldn't have much time."
"I suppose it will have to be some other night, then," Ayla sighed. She looked up at him, smiling. "Are you going to let go of my hands?"
He raised an eyebrow at her, amusement sparkling in his own eyes. "Will you behave if I do?"
She shrugged, her smile widening, surprised at how much she was enjoying herself. "I cannot make any promises."
"Well, I'll have to take my chances then." He let go of her wrists, backing away from her, eyeing her warily, causing her to laugh.
"Relax, Alistair, I'm not going to ravish you here," she teased him. "You wanted to wait until we got to Denerim for that, right?"
His face flushed as he nodded. "Right, Denerim. It will be a couple of weeks until we get there – if that's all right?" He looked at her with sudden uncertainty.
"I told you, I would wait as long as you needed," she replied seriously. "Besides, there are other ways we can entertain ourselves in the meantime." She winked at him, watching as his eyes flared with sudden heat. "But for now, I'll go wash up and let you do your watch. Good night, Alistair."
"Good night," he replied in a low voice as she walked away.
It had been a good idea to go to Leliana for advice, she thought as she gathered up her pack and headed to the river. The bard was right; she was in too deep with Alistair now to not experience pain if she lost him. So, there was no point in holding herself back anymore or trying to run away. She would let things happen as they would, and try to keep him safe, protect him as he had protected her from the werewolves. If something went drastically wrong and it looked like neither of them would make it out, she could always make sure she died first. That way, she wouldn't have to worry about any pain or grief. Yes, she decided, that would be the best way to go.
True to Alistair's prediction, it was two weeks later when they finally reached the outskirts of Denerim. It had been a surprisingly enjoyable two weeks, but then, Ayla felt at home travelling on the road. As a child she'd spent as much time on the road with her father and brother as she had at the home of the Trichlor clan. Things had been relatively quiet on the road, also; they'd only run into a few roving bands of darkspawn and one group of bandits.
Due to the lack of battles, she and Alistair had been able to spend a lot more time together than they had been able to previously. She had found herself enjoying not just their intimate moments alone but the time they spent just talking and being with each other. She couldn't say for sure if she was in love with him, but she knew it was far more of a possibility with him than it had ever been before.
She also had to admire his restraint; more than once over the last two weeks they'd both been pushed to the brink of their desire during their intimate times alone. But he'd always managed to pull back before things went all the way, insisting he wanted to wait until they had a real bed. She was sure that it probably helped that he had no real knowledge of exactly what it would be like when they were truly together, as she did, but she was still impressed by his discipline. She had to admit she was a little relieved they'd finally made it to Denerim; her self-control only went so far.
She glanced over at Alistair as they all waited outside the walls of Denerim for Leliana to come back. She'd gone to purchase hooded cloaks for them all to wear, so that hopefully no one would recognize Alistair or Aedan. Denerim, Aedan had explained, was the capital of Ferelden, and therefore was where both the castle and Loghain were located, meaning there would likely be soldiers on the lookout for Wardens. He'd decided it would be best for them to keep a low profile. Unlike the others, who all had varying levels of impatience and boredom on their faces, Alistair looked sad as he studied the stone walls, while rain slowly drizzled down around them from the slate grey skies above.
She edged over to him. "Something the matter, Alistair?" she asked quietly.
He glanced down at her, looking startled as though he hadn't heard her coming, before he slowly nodded. "It's just . . . the last time I was in Denerim, it was with the other Wardens. This was where the Warden headquarters were for Ferelden."
"Oh." She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry." What could she say to make him feel better for losing all of his former companions in one fell swoop?
"We won't be able to get into headquarters, either," Aedan murmured, obviously having heard them as he approached. "Doubtless Loghain has his soldiers all over the building, waiting for us to try to sneak back in there."
"Yes, I suppose he does," Alistair replied heavily.
Ayla frowned. Goddess, but she hated seeing him like this. "Well, we cannot do anything about it this time, but one day we can reclaim your Warden headquarters and make Loghain pay," she told him, squeezing his arm. "Anyway, you wanted to visit your sister, right? And we have that scholar to find, too. Let us focus on that."
He smiled down at her, though the sadness lingered in his eyes as he squeezed her hand in turn. "You're right, we have other things to worry about right now."
"Such as where in the Maker's name is Leliana," Aedan grumbled. "She has been gone for hours."
Striker gave a sudden bark from Aedan's side, causing them to all turn and look. Leliana was coming down the path from the gates of Denerim, shouldering a large sack full of what were obviously their cloaks. "Finally, there you are!" Aedan exclaimed as she approached, taking the bag from her.
"It took some time to find someone who had that many cloaks made and ready for sale," Leliana defended as she took a cloak for herself. "Besides, I was gathering information. It seems you two are officially wanted for arrest, but most of the townsfolk have no idea what you look like. The city guard has been informed, but it seems unlikely they will do anything about it; most of the ones I saw appeared inexperienced, and would likely be terrified to face an actual Warden in combat. We should only need to be concerned if we run across Loghain's personal soldiers, most of whom do not linger about the marketplace much by the sounds of it."
"No, they would not," Aedan agreed, as he tossed cloaks from the bag to all of the others, except for Ayla, who still had her cloak from home to wear; she'd already fastened it around her shoulders and flipped the hood up. "The marketplace is mostly frequented by commoners, and the city guard, as you said. It is fortunate that it is raining, today. No one should be too suspicious of the hoods."
"I do not understand why we cower instead of confronting your enemy directly," Sten remarked, disapproval lining his face as he held his cloak gingerly in one massive hand.
"Because we are incredibly outnumbered and at a disadvantage here and we do not want to die before we even get to fight the darkspawn," Aedan retorted, staring the qunari down. That was going to come to blows one day soon, Ayla knew, but for the moment, Sten merely scowled and nodded, putting his cloak on.
"Well, now, may we enter the city at long last?" Zevran asked dramatically. "I, for one, would like the pleasure of a drink and a real bed this night, especially if the rain picks up."
"Yes, let's get going," Aedan nodded, turning towards the gates. "There are several things I'd like to accomplish before it gets dark, and I do not want to be in Denerim for longer than one night if we can help it."
Hooded and cloaked, they all followed Aedan through the gate that Leliana had just come out of, which was the one closest to the marketplace. Though there were guards at the gate, there were also a steady stream of people coming and going, and the guards gave their party no more than a cursory glance, as though they could care less. They did not seem to be the most alert sort, Ayla noted.
It wasn't far from the gate to the marketplace itself, which was full of noise and milling crowds of people. The center of the marketplace was home to dozens of booths made of wood with cloth coverings, under which various wares were displayed and the sellers called out loudly to passersby. The market was also ringed with various buildings, some of wood, others of stone, with signs hanging over the doors indicating what lay within. The streets were nothing but dusty ground, rapidly becoming muddy, and the whole place was noisy, dirty, and smelly.
Aedan started off by leading them to a building where there was an armorer that was apparently quite skilled, although eccentric. They first bought as much new armor as they could afford, and he then showed the armorer named Wade the dragonscales they'd acquired from their fight in the Forest. The man was ecstatic, and begged to be allowed to fashion them a set of armor from the scales, promising to finish by the next day.
Once done there, they continued on around the edge of the marketplace, when Alistair suddenly halted. He looked at a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, then at a small, dingy wooden building across the way. "That's . . . my sister's house. I'm almost sure of it, this is . . ." he looked at the paper in his hand again, "yes, this is the right address. She could be inside. Could we . . . go and see?" He looked hopefully at Ayla and Aedan, who had both stopped with him.
Aedan raised his eyebrows, then turned to the others, handing a money pouch to Morrigan. "How about the rest of you keep going and get us more supplies? Stock up on herbs and potions and the like? We'll catch up with you later, and go find Brother Genitivi's house from there."
Morrigan regarded him dubiously before nodding. "If you are certain you wish to waste time on this errand, we will continue on, then. Do make sure not to take too long." With that, the others walked away, leaving the three of them behind.
Aedan turned to Alistair. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather go in on your own? Or just with Ayla, maybe?"
"It's whatever you want to do, Alistair," Ayla added, noticing the look of panic on his face. She was truly hoping this would work out for him, recalling how happy he'd looked in the Fade when he'd thought he'd been with his sister. She wanted, she realized, to help him be happy in whatever way she could - and that feeling still frightened her, though she tried her best to ignore that. "We can wait out here for you, if you'd rather."
Alistair wrung his hands, glancing between the two of them anxiously. "Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don't know what to expect. I'd like you both to be there with me, if you're willing. Or we could . . . leave, I suppose. We really don't have time to pay a visit, do we? Maybe we should go."
"Alistair," Ayla sighed, "we are already here. We might as well just go in." She couldn't blame him for wanting to run away, but she knew he would regret it if he left without seeing her. He'd talked of visiting her frequently over the last few days as they got closer to Denerim.
Alistair darted a glance at the house behind them. "Will she even know who I am? Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange . . . sister. Siiiiiiister. Hmmm, now I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just . . . go."
Aedan groaned and grabbed Alistair's arm. "Come on, we're going in." He proceeded to drag Alistair inside the little house, and Ayla followed them inside. The inside of the house was even dingier and more ill-kept than the outside, and smelled strongly of lye and linens. A slender, reddish-blonde woman in rough, though well-sewn clothing, with a lined face and pinched expression approached from the back of the house. Just looking at her, Ayla had a feeling this wasn't going to go well.
"Err . . . hello?" Alistair offered tentatively.
The woman stopped a few feet away, eyes sweeping over them. They'd pushed their hoods back when they entered, allowing her a clear view, and she studied each of them carefully, eyes narrowing. "Eh? You have linens to wash? I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better. And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."
Alistair looked a little taken aback, and looked over at Ayla. She nodded silent encouragement to him, and he replied, "I'm . . . not here to have any wash done. My name's Alistair. I'm . . . well, this may sound sort of strange, but are you Goldanna? If so, I suppose . . . I'm your brother."
Goldanna's eyebrows shot up before suspicion clouded her face. "My what? I am Goldanna, yes . . . how do you know my name? What kind of tomfoolery are you folk up to?"
"He's telling the truth," Aedan assured her. "Please, just listen to him. Alistair, go on."
Alistair sighed, looking more nervous than ever before he went on, "Look, our mother . . . she worked as a servant in Redcliffe a long time ago, before she died. Do you know about that? She –"
"You!" Goldanna cried, interrupting him completely as recognition crashed over her face. "I knew it! They told me you was dead! They told me the babe was dead along with mother, but I knew they was lying!" Ayla frowned, noticing she sounded more angry than pleased to find out that Alistair was alive.
Alistair frowned, obviously confused now. "They told you I was dead? Who? Who told you that?"
"Them's at the castle!" Goldanna exclaimed, gesturing wildly with her arms. "I told them the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me a coin to shut my mouth and sent me on my way! I knew it!"
"I'm sorry, I . . . didn't know that. The babe didn't die. I'm him; I'm . . . your brother," Alistair replied faintly, looking as though he'd suddenly realized this wasn't going to go the way he'd hoped. Ayla exchanged a worried glance with Aedan.
Goldanna scoffed in reply, her voice laced with venom. "For all the good it does me! You killed Mother, you did, and I've had to scrape by all this time? That coin didn't last long, and when I went back they ran me off!"
"Alistair, I don't think this was a good idea," Aedan said in a low voice.
Ayla, having seen the look of shock and horror on Alistair's face after the woman's accusation, was absolutely furious on his behalf. "How dare you blame Alistair for that!" she snapped. "That was not his fault, and anybody with a grain of sense would know that!"
Goldanna scowled at her, planting her hands on her hips. "And who in the Maker's name are you? Some tart, following after his riches, I expect?"
"Tart?!" Ayla squawked indignantly, her temper snapping as she reached for one of her daggers. Aedan grabbed her arm quickly before she could pull one out, hissing, "Low profile, remember?" Ayla glared at him, but didn't press the matter.
She was surprised, however, when Alistair suddenly stepped forward, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him. "Hey! Don't speak to her that way! She's my friend, and she's helping us Grey Wardens in our fight against the darkspawn!"
Goldanna crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Oooohh, I see. A prince and a Grey Warden, too. Well, who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don't know you, boy." Her eyes went cold as she continued inexorably, "Your royal father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I got to show for it? Nothing. They tricked me good! I should have told everyone! I got five mouths to feed, and unless you can help with that, I got less than no use for you."
Alistair's anger deflated in the wake of Goldanna's contempt, and Ayla's heart ached at the sudden sad look on his face as he stammered, "I . . . I'm sorry. I . . . I don't know what to say."
Aedan looked suddenly angry on Alistair's behalf, too, as he let go of Ayla's arm and cast a scornful glance at Goldanna. "Come on, Alistair, let's go. It looks like all she wants is your money. Obviously she could care less about family."
"Yes, it really seems that way, doesn't it?" Alistair said softly, looking dejected. "I wasn't expecting my sister to be so . . . I'm starting to wonder why I came."
"I don't know why you came, either, or what you expected to find. But it isn't here! Now get out of my house, all of you!" Goldanna shouted, pointing imperiously at the door.
"You," Ayla snapped, turning a venomous glare on her, "need someone to teach you a lesson. You don't deserve to have a brother at all, let alone one like Alistair!"
"Please, Ayla," Alistair begged her, grabbing her arm, "let's just go. It's not worth it."
Oh, how she wanted to destroy this woman for making him look like that, Ayla thought furiously, noticing the crushing sadness in his eyes. "Count yourself bloody lucky he's such a good man, or you'd be missing a limb or two by now," she hissed at Goldanna, who was suddenly looking frightened, though she tried to cover it up with a glare.
"Let's leave. Now," Aedan said in his most commanding tone, pushing both of them towards the door.
Ayla willingly let herself be pushed out the door, and so did Alistair, until all three of them were outside and the door slammed shut behind them. Ayla clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to work through her fury as Alistair stood there, shoulders slumped, and Aedan watched them both warily.
"Well that was . . . not what I expected, to put it lightly," Alistair said at last, his face wavering between grief and anger. "This is the family I've been wondering about my whole life? That shrew is my sister? I can't believe it. I . . . I guess I was expecting her to accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I . . . I feel like a complete idiot."
"You do not need her," Ayla snarled, flinging a dagger at the doorjamb just to relieve her feelings. It thudded in up to the hilt. "She doesn't deserve you. Anyway, you have other people that care about you," she finished softly, embarrassed, but wanting, no, needing to do something, anything, to make him feel better.
"Such as?" he asked bleakly, bitterness lacing his tone. "The only one who ever cared about me was Duncan, and he's gone."
"Come on, Alistair," Aedan said quietly. "Are we two orphaned Wardens not brothers now? I thought we were."
Alistair looked up at him in surprise, and Ayla smiled at him gratefully before adding, her face flushed with embarrassment, "I . . . may not know exactly what it is I feel for you, but make no mistake, I do care about you. Not like a sister, though."
Aedan let out a crack of laughter. "Yes, that would be awkward if a brother and sister felt that way about each other."
Ayla was pleased to see Alistair's expression lightening, although he was now blushing. "Um, yes. I . . . thank you, both of you. You're right, I apologize."
"But, Alistair," Aedan went on, his expression suddenly sobering, "although you can rely on us, most people are out only for themselves. You should learn that. You need to look out for yourself more, and not just do what everyone else wants you to do. Even if it's Ayla or I . . . you should listen to yourself first."
"He's right," Ayla added softly, taking Alistair's hand in hers. "You need to be a little more selfish, worry about what you want a little more."
"Yes, maybe I should," Alistair answered, a faraway look in his eyes as he squeezed Ayla's hand before pulling away. "I guess I should have known better. Let's just go, I don't want to talk about this anymore." He turned and headed in the direction Morrigan and the others had gone earlier.
"Do you think he's going to be all right?" Ayla whispered to Aedan as they followed him at a distance.
Aedan nodded. "He'll get over it eventually. I am sorry he doesn't have a better family, though. I cannot imagine my family ever treating me like that." His face darkened and his mouth tightened. "Not that it matters anymore."
Ayla winced. Aedan so rarely spoke of it and always seemed so together that she often forgot just what had happened to his family. "Well . . . at least you know your family all loved you," she offered at last. "It must be painful feeling like no one in your family wants you." She could not imagine how that felt either.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Aedan said thoughtfully, watching Alistair's retreating back and still slumped shoulders. "That makes me feel a little better, though not much. Let's finish what we came here to do."
As she followed them through Denerim, Ayla couldn't help but think of her own brother. She'd tried not to think of Mardin too much and it had been fairly easy with everything else that was going on. But now that the subject of families had come up, she was reminded that she missed him fiercely. They had rarely been apart more than a few days throughout their lives, and now it had been almost two months since she'd last seen him. She didn't want to leave Ferelden, not anymore, but surely there must be some way of getting word back to Mardin that she was all right. She would just have to find a way, once this Blight was over. For now, they had too much to do.