Alistair and Jory half-carried, half-dragged me through the Wilds, my boots scraping uselessly over root-tangled ground. The trees blurred together. My head spun. Nausea came in waves, cresting and crashing with every jolt of motion.

I hardly ever got ill. I hadn't had a single sick-day in school, and I was discovering that I was not a good patient.

I was not strong. Not like this.

I wanted to stop—to just lie down, sink into the moss, and let the Wilds take me—but they kept moving, and I kept going with them, more deadweight than person.

Whatever path Morrigan led us down, it was invisible to all but her. No track, no trail—just her, striding through the underbrush like the forest bowed to her whims. The rest of us stumbled after her, trying not to lose sight.

Somewhere between the ruins and her hut, the taint finally claimed my consciousness. I blacked out in the crook of Alistair's arms, tucked against steel and leather, and for a moment—just a moment—I let myself trust it. Trust him.

I woke to the familiar rattle of Flemeth's voice.

"Leave her with me. I'll bring her back to your camp when she wakes."

Grayson started to protest, but Alistair's voice cut him off.

"I appreciate the scrolls. Really. But we're taking her with us. We have to get her back to camp as soon as possible."

"She is in no condition to travel," Flemeth said coolly. "I assure you, young man, I have means of—"

"I think I can take a guess at what your 'means' are," Alistair said flatly. "No, thank you. She is my responsibility, and I won't—"

I groaned and cracked my eyes open. "Alist…urgh."

He was kneeling beside me before I even finished the syllable. "Lauren—you passed out. You're in—"

"I know," I muttered, hoarse. "I'm okay."

I was not okay.

The world tilted when I tried to focus on his face. The effort of smiling made my skull throb like someone was playing the drums behind my eyes. But I forced myself to sit upright. Barely.

"You're not okay. We need to get you back to Duncan."

"Agreed," Grayson said, appearing at Alistair's shoulder. "Can you walk?"

I hadn't the energy to shrug so I just made a face and struggled to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. This simple movement sapped all of my remaining strength and I bent double with a pitiful groan, forehead slick with sweat.

"I'll carry her," Alistair said, quiet.

"You already did," Grayson offered. "I can—"

"No," Alistair said firmly. "I've got her."

"But if we're attacked again—"

"I'll keep her safe."

I groaned again, louder this time, trying to convey my displeasure at being discussed like some helpless damsel, realising even as I did so that at present, I really was helpless.

Flemeth's voice was suddenly much closer. "She does not have long."

Alistair tensed. "What do you mean by that?"

"If you insist on dragging her through the woods, give her this." She passed him a small vial.

"What is it?" Suspicion sharpened his voice.

"Essence of elfroot. Among other things." I recognised this statement and managed to look up, wearily.

"It's okay." I croaked. "It'll help. She's...she's a friend."

I wasn't certain that was true.

Flemeth's gaze met mine. Calculating. Calm. Not kind. But not cruel, either. She wanted me alive—for now. I nodded.

Alistair tilted the vial to my lips, his hand warm and steady under my chin. I swallowed. It burned. Then bloomed—like fire and sunlight in my veins. I gasped, then coughed, but the strength it gave me was real. I managed to sit up, spine shaking like wet paper.

Flemeth lingered in the doorway. "I must say, Lauren Duval, I did not expect our second meeting to be quite so dramatic as our first."

I dipped my head in something approximating a nod.

Her smile faded and her eyes hardened when she looked at Alistair. "Get her back to your camp. Do not tarry. There are things even your ritual cannot bring her back from."

Alistair bristled. "What do you know about—"

She cut him off with a sharp wave and turned on her heel. "My hospitality is at an end. For now."

Alistair blinked after her, baffled. "You said she's your friend?"

I shrugged. "Something like that."

He huffed and scooped me up again like I weighed nothing. Which was comforting, if slightly insulting. I slung an arm around his neck for balance and tried to ignore how weird it felt—being this close to someone I technically hadn't even known for a day.

"Shall we?" he asked Grayson. The three of us stepped outside.

"Milking it, are we?" Daveth called with a smirk. I stuck my tongue out at him, too exhausted for anything clever.

Flemeth was gone. Of course she was. But Morrigan was there, arms crossed and frown firmly in place. She didn't look at me. Not even a smirk. Just turned and led the way, silently.

The others followed. Alistair adjusted his grip, and I wrinkled my nose.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?"

He snorted.

"You have the body mass of a malnourished elf."

"Ru-ude," I said, in a light, sing-song voice.

"I meant it as a compliment," he said quickly. "You're not heavy."

"Good. Because I'm really sorry about this, Alistair. If I survive the Joining, I swear I'll make it up to you."

"Oh? You going to carry me through darkspawn-infested woods?"

"Whatever it takes." I yawned. "Though I was thinking more along the lines of baking a cake."

He laughed. "Didn't have you pegged for a baker."

"I contain multitudes." I mumbled sleepily. "Unfortunately, walking upright is not currently one of them. But being infected by darkspawn taint is something that almost never happens to me. I swear."

"I believe you. It's usually a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And you don't have to apologise, Lauren. It's not your fault," He said, kindly. I shrugged.

"I don't know...I mean, it kind of is my fault. If I hadn't been so careless, I would never have been infected with darkspawn taint in the first place." I mused.

"And if you had never been infected with Darkspawn taint, the Grey Wardens wouldn't have gained such a promising new recruit." He replied, obviously trying to make me feel better. I snorted, looking away from him.

"Yes. Behold, my promise." I drawled, gesturing weakly down at my limp body in his arms. "I pity the next darkspawn that crosses my path."

He chuckled. "Don't sell yourself short. Back at the ruins—you had good form. You're quick, smart. With training, you'll be a great Warden."

I gaped at him, offended.

I mean...yeah, sure, the fighting skills that I had weren't exactly my own. I couldn't take any credit for them. But I had felt like such a rock star. My reflexes were incredible, and my aim was deadly.

I pouted, raising my chin a little, and throwing him a very dirty look. He rolled his eyes.

"What did I say now?" He sighed, in exasperation.

I shook my head, averting my eyes.

"Nothing." I said, curtly.

"Really? Because if looks could kill..."

"If looks could kill, then perhaps my sub-par battle skills would not be an issue." I sniffed.

He laughed at me, shaking his head.

"Way to snatch an insult from the jaws of a compliment." He muttered, still shaking his head in incredulity.

"Telling me I need more training was a compliment?"

"I said you had good form."

"So just a back-handed compliment, then."

"I wasn't trying to offend you." He said, apologetically, and I instantly felt bad.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm not usually this touchy. Must be the taint."

"It is" He assured me, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"One of the recruits at my Joining was infected. He went from pleasant to prickly in under an hour. It's normal. Don't worry about it," he said, kindly.

I nodded, gratefully.

We fell into silence for a while. Grayson and Morrigan walked ahead, talking quietly. I frowned. She was smiling—smiling—and he didn't look like he minded.

I knew that Morrigan was a romance option for Cousland in the game, but I also knew what her intentions ultimately were. The curious sense of kinship I felt with Grayson made me prickle with unease as I saw Morrigan smirk flirtatiously in response to whatever he had just said.

"I don't like the way she's looking at him," I said.

Alistair followed my gaze. "She looks… friendly."

"Hmm. A little too friendly, if you ask me," I muttered, grimly.

He went quiet.

"Oh," he said at last. "I see. Right then."

Grayson glanced back and saw us watching him, and he doubled back to join us.

"How are you feeling, Lauren?" He asked, placing a hand on my forehead. "You're very hot."

"Thanks. I try. You're not bad, yourself." I joked, with an exaggerated wink.

"…What?"

"Nothing. 'Hot' means 'attractive' where I'm from. It was a joke. That's now dead. We should mourn it and move on."

"Oh, right. Well...ha ha." He offered.

I waved a hand, dismissively.

"No, no, don't try to make me feel better now, you've ruined it." I said, straight-faced, and he grinned—a genuine grin this time.

"It's nice to see you smiling," I said, warmly.

"Ah. Yeah...I know I've not been the best company—"

"No, I didn't mean it like that," I said, quickly. "I just meant...you have a nice smile."

"Careful," he grinned. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

He turned to Alistair. "Need a break? I can take her for a bit—"

"No. I've got her," Alistair said, maybe a bit too sharply.

I frowned slightly at his uncharacteristic coolness towards Grayson, but Grayson didn't seem to notice.

"Okay, then. I'll scout on ahead." He said, brightly, jogging away from us to catch up with Morrigan again.

I turned and gave Alistair a look so withering it could've peeled paint.

"What?" he asked, too innocent.

I reached up and lightly slapped his forehead with my fingertips.

He blinked down at me. "Did you just—what was that for?"

"Did you just growl at poor, sweet Grayson?"

"What? No."

I gave him a look. He did not look at me.

"Okay. What was that tone then?"

"I was being decisive."

"You were being weird."

He huffed. "Would you rather he carried you?"

"Would you rather he carried me?"

"Maybe then he'd stop flirting with Morrigan and talk to you instead," he muttered.

I blinked. "Wait. Are you… jealous?"

"No," he said immediately, too quickly. "You're the one who's jealous."

"Of what?"

"Of them. You've been glaring holes in the back of her head for the last ten minutes."

"Because she's a shifty apostate and she's acting all...predatorial. It's concerning. And you should be concerned too. It's like watching a wolf salivate over a bunny rabbit."

"Oh, please. "You're so attractive, you're attractive too, tee he." I've never seen such flirting." He scoffed.

I narrowed my eyes at the exaggerated Starkhaven-accented falsetto he put on for that last bit.

I squinted at him. "Was that supposed to be me?"

"That was supposed to be flirting. Yours. And his."

"I don't sound like that. Also, I believe the term is banter, and how dare you, sir? I may be many things, but a flirt is not one of them."

"I know a certain blacksmith who may beg to differ," he smirked, good-naturedly.

"Uh—I distinctly remember that you were right there with me, buddy. If anything, you were the flirt. I was the flirtee."

"Who flirts about a helmet?" he asked, clearly scandalised. "That wasn't flirting, that was...survival advice."

"And now look. You're carrying me through the Wilds like something off the cover of a romance novel. You're relentless."

He made a strangled sound and I hid behind my hair, unable to stop myself from giggling at how easy it was to push his buttons.

"This is practical! This is not romantic."

"I'm just saying," I sighed, dramatically. "If you keep doing gallant things, people are going to talk."

"No one's going to talk."

"I might."

He looked down at me, suspicious. "Talk how?"

"Oh, you know." I fluttered my lashes. "'Oh, kind ser knight, my hero, my strong and broody Warden—'"

"Maker's breath."

"—'carry me into battle and also maybe to a pastry stall sometime if it's not too much trouble—'"

"Right. That's it," he struggled to keep his face deadpan. "I'm handing you off to Grayson."

I giggled, and a grin broke through his serious façade.

It was the second time that day that I'd managed to go a whole few minutes without being on the verge of tears. I frowned, trying to interrogate my feelings on the matter. He was really living up to his comic relief role.

Alistair, meanwhile, seemed deep in thought—until he broke the silence with a muttered, "You know, I, uh… think that's the closest I've ever come to public scandal."

I glanced over, brow raised in a silent question.

"The blacksmith." He clarified, quickly.

"I wouldn't worry about it," I smirked. "He probably just isn't used to seeing devastatingly attractive and charismatic Grey Wardens engaged in such compelling helmet-based repartee."

Alistair made a strangled noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh and promptly tripped over nothing, causing us both to tighten our grips on one another.

"Sorry," He breathed, with an embarrassed smile. "It's just...you think I'm…? I mean—not that I'm complaining, I just—'devastatingly attractive' is... new."

"Oh, I meant me." I flashed him a grin.

He huffed dramatically, in mock indignation.

"I'll have you know, I was voted 'Most Distractingly Handsome' in my templar training cohort."

"Really?"

"No." He paused, then added as an afterthought. "But one mage did write a poem about my forearms. It was...surprisingly detailed."

That cracked me. A real laugh. The kind that felt like releasing a pressure valve I hadn't noticed was stuck.

He looked down at me, more relaxed now, the blush fading from his cheeks.

"Not much phases you, does it?"

I shrugged.

"I have darkspawn blood in my veins and I'm being carried princess-style through the Korcari Wilds by a man who just confessed to being the subject of unsolicited forearm poetry. So no, not much. I feel pretty inoculated against the phase."

I chewed my lip, glancing sideways at him. Fuck it. There was a better than zero chance this day was going to kill me—I may as well say something real.

"Thank you, by the way."

He squinted down at me, suspicious.

I could feel him waiting for the punchline.

I rolled my eyes, lips tugging into a smile anyway.

"That wasn't a set-up." I assured him. "I can be sincere. On occasion."

"Is that so?"

"I'm known for it."

"Well, then...I'm sure you're welcome," he said, carefully. "May I ask what I did to merit this sincere, no doubt heartfelt thanks? I'll be sure to do to more of it, in future."

I hesitated.

"Sure," I nodded, voice softening. "I've, uh...I've had the worst week."

I let out a grim chuckle—understatement of the Dragon Age—but my eyes burned anyway. I blinked hard, willing the traitorous tears away before they could fall.

Alistair noticed. Then pretended he didn't. He just let the silence sit, giving me time to gather myself.

"For a few minutes there, I almost felt like the world wasn't ending. That's...not nothing."

He glanced down at me, brow furrowing in something that might've been worry.

"I'm glad," he said simply.

We let the moment hang for a while, neither of us feeling the need to fill the silence. but I felt his grip on me tighten, ever-so-slightly.

After a minute or so, he threw me a lop-sided smile.

"All part of my plan, of course. The tripping, the blushing, the awkwardness...a carefully orchestrated ruse."

"Is that so?" I grinned.

"Oh, absolutely. I'm actually devastatingly suave. You might even say sophisticated," he lowered his voice, mock-serious. "Just don't spread that around. I'm trying to cultivate a persona."

"My lips are sealed."

"And I won't tell anyone about your secret crush on Grayson."

I barked a laugh, shaking my head.

"I don't have a crush on Grayson, let's just clear that up right now. He's like a brother to me."

"You literally just met him. Today."

Shit. That's right.

"Well, he...just seems brotherly." I said, lamely.

"How can a person seem brotherly? When you've just met them? That's...not a thing."

"They just can, okay? I've just met you, and you seem...morony." I snapped.

He raised an eyebrow, squinting at me.

"But not brotherly?"

"Dude. You're being weird. I'm cutting you off before you escalate." I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm dying, remember? And you're making fun of me for having a make-believe crush."

"You are not dying." He said, firmly.

"Yes, I am. I can feel this conversation sucking the life out of me. And something else about darkspawn taint coursing through my body, slowly killing me...or something, I forget." I said, flippantly.

"You're not dying." He said again, quieter.

Silence fell over us for a while and I looked around to see that the trees were thinning, and up ahead I could just make out the clearing in which I had met the soldiers. We were almost there.

"Alistair." I said, quietly, looking back at him. "The recruit...the one at your Joining, who'd been infected. After he became a Grey Warden, did he fully recover? I mean...the anger, the aggression...did it go away?"

Alistair looked at me, sadly.

"Of course he did. He was as good as new." He said, forcing a smile.

I nodded. I didn't call him on it. I was too tired. And he was trying.

Alistair was a great warrior, but I imagined he'd make a terrible poker player.

The recruit didn't recover at all. He was lying.