The blood soaking through Alistair's bandages is just about the color of the rose carefully stored in his pack.

At the same time, blood's not quite the color of Redcliffe heraldry, but it is the other thing that occupies his mind.

It's not that Alistair doesn't want the others to know he's Maric's son. Except, well, he doesn't. Morrigan would mock him for being a fool bastard, Leliana would look at him with sorrowful eyes—or worse, regale him with stories of his father's exploits—and Lady Cousland…

She'd look at him and find him lacking, like everyone else who's ever known the truth has always found him lacking. She was friends with Cailan. If she knew, all she'd ever see in him are all the ways he isn't enough.

So as they draw ever nearer to Redcliffe, he keeps his mouth shut.

And then a man comes running up to them screaming about monsters and the undead. Joy.

xxx

Bann Teagan and Lady Cousland have a history.

"Ailis!" Bann Teagan cries out in shock and disbelief as soon as he sees them. He rushes over and holds her hands in his. "Ailis, you survived? But—how? The sack—"

"Sheer dumb luck, Teagan," the lady says. "Well, perhaps some of the maneuvers you taught me last Landsmeet."

"And is this Calenhad? He's so big! He's a proper war dog now!"

"Whuff!" Calenhad agrees.

Then Bann Teagan turns to the rest of them, and his eyes light up in recognition of Alistair. He barely has a moment to think, What if he resents me for living when Cailan died before he is being embraced warmly and their other companions greeted.

But soon the time for reunions is over. The situation is dire. The undead are streaming out of Redcliffe Castle nightly, and the villagers are terrified.

It stinks of dark magic, Alistair thinks, and he says so. Surprisingly, Morrigan agrees with him.

"But whose, I wonder?" she says.

That's the question, isn't it.

And then night comes, and Alistair gets to swing his sword against the undead instead of darkspawn. Joy.

xxx

Despite their best efforts, some villagers lie dead when the sun rises, among them the town mayor. It makes the jubilance of their survival, well, a little less jubilant, if Alistair is being honest.

Not jubilant at all, for the family members Leliana is speaking to. She goes around to everybody who lost somebody, pressing their hands in between hers and speaking some kind words—generally being her chantry sister self. Morrigan, he notices, regards her with—not suspicion, really, but certainly narrowed eyes, as if she is trying to figure her out.

Alistair wishes her luck. Leliana is a contradiction. The woman could shoot through the wings of a fly then apologize to the Maker for killing one of His creations. At the same time she could slice through a bandit, then shrug and say, "I suppose violence is a solution sometimes."

But the Lady Cousland stays by the dead, head bowed as she murmurs a few words. As he draws nearer he makes out some of the low words: apologies, prayers, a fervent wish that she'd done better by them.

It's not about the townspeople. Well, it's a bit about the townspeople. But Alistair isn't dumb enough to think that it's also not a little bit about Highever, lying sacked far, far north of here.

Despite it hurting his heart, he leaves her to her grief. He lost an entire order, but he knew them for half a year. (It doesn't seem like half a year. Duncan…Fa—no, he's never dared think the word, and he won't start now, it might make him weep and this is not the time or place.) He wasn't responsible for the order, not in the way the Lady Cousland was responsible for Highever—and, he guesses, the way she felt responsible for Redcliffe village.

It's she who finds him later, sitting with his calves dipped into Lake Calenhad. Calenhad-the-dog is, as ever, at her heels, panting.

"Reminiscing?" she asks. He smiles.

"One of the maids at the castle used to tell me I could swim before I could walk," he says. "That was before they outlawed swimming in the lake."

"Why did they?"

"After I went to Templar training, I never came back here. I don't know," he says.

She sits beside him, and even this is an elegant motion. He hates it, hates the constant reminders that she is better than him, even as he admires all the markers of her status. It just reminds him that he, baseborn as he is, could never—

Forget it, he says sternly to himself.

"The smell reminds me a little bit of Highever port," she says. "It's not really the same, for it's not saltwater, but water all the same. Fergus and I used to walk down the port and just watch the boats come in." She smiles ruefully. "Mother despaired of us. 'Am I raising Couslands or Cous-seas?' "

Alistair snorts.

"It was her own fault really. She was Eleanor Mac Enraig. The Seawolf," she adds, as if it needed clarification.

Eleanor Mac Enraig was a raider of Orlesian warships back during the rebellion, Alistair remembers. Heroes on both sides of the family, it seems.

And him—well, his father was a pretty big hero too.

Again he doesn't realize he's speaking until he has.

"Are you and Bann Teagan close?" he asks.

She laughs, and Alistair thrills.

"You sound like a gossip at a spring salon! He was very amusing company at Landsmeets when I was younger. Fergus and Alfstanna never let me join their games, but one day Teagan saw me sulking and took me out back to teach me swordplay. It was lovely. He's a good fighter," she says. "Mother wanted to match me with him, but I was too young then," she adds, as if it were an afterthought.

xxx

"The arlessa knows or has something to do with the undead," Alistair says, as they watch her and Bann Teagan disappear into the castle.

He feels unkind saying it, but then Morrigan says something even unkinder.

"The manner in which she acted, the way she moved—that woman is a trapped animal," she opines. "One too well-bred—" she sneers—"to snap or bite, which just makes her all the more pathetic. Animals should fight back."

"She's an Orlesian ninny," Lady Cousland says harshly. Leliana flinches, then, when she catches Alistair's eye, shrugs. It's true, if unkind, and there's nothing much she can say to refute it.

So they go into the mill, like they were told to. Alistair heaves a sigh. Maker only knows what they'll find in there.