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“Out of my way, fool.”
The mage who Alistair had just “harassed” pushed past the woman standing before him and stormed down the ramp. The woman, taller than the mage by at least a good few inches, glowered at his back, and Alistair decided that if looks could kill, that man would be a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.
He hadn’t paid the women much attention before. He’d assumed during his brief encounter with the mage that she was just another messenger from the Revered Mother, here to ask him to “harass” someone else, but when she turned back to face him, Alistair found himself almost rooted to the spot. The woman before him held herself in a manner that suggested a noble upbringing in the very least, but there was something in her eyes that made him pause. Alistair didn’t know this woman, yet even he could see that she was desperately unhappy, and thoroughly pissed off; whether with the mage who had attempted, and failed, to shove her, or with something else, he wasn’t sure. Though her expression was cold, aloof even, something had deeply troubled her. Even though she was a stranger, his heart went out to her.
“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.”
The woman’s eyes widened a bit before the corner of her mouth twitched upwards. Alistair felt a small sense of pride knowing that he’d made her smile, even a little, after the expression she’d given him before. He didn’t know what had angered her, but at least he’d taken it off her mind for a second.
“I know exactly what you mean.”
Her comment sounded like it had been intended as sarcastic, but all he could hear was the bitterness that followed behind it. Alistair’s smile dropped a little. He didn’t know why, but he liked this woman and wanted to see her smile again.
“It’s like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands.” He said giving her a wry smile. “That would give the darkspawn something to think about.”
To his delight, the woman snorted and shook her head. Even with her face and armour streaked with dirt, she was still a sight to behold. The smile she wore lit up her eyes and made her look younger than she had a minute earlier. Alistair realised with a start that she was actually about the same age as him, and he felt his breath hitch.
“Wait, we haven’t met, have we?” He asked squinting at her. “I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”
She let out a chuckle at that. “Would that make your day worse?”
“Hardly. I’d just like to know my chances at being turned into a toad at any given moment.”
The woman looked like she was about to make another smart comment when Alistair had a thought. No, she wasn’t a mage – the fact she was in heavy armour and had a greatsword that looked larger than him strapped to her back were fairly obvious examples of that – and yes, he did know who she was.
“You’re Duncan’s new recruit, aren’t you?” She had to be; there would be no other reason a woman as well armed as she would come and talk to him without delivering some kind of message from some lord or some member of the Chantry. He looked at the heraldry displayed on the centre of her breastplate and felt like an absolute idiot. Even though it was covered by a thin film of dust, he could still make out the green wreath on the blue background; the sign of the Couslands of Highever. “I should have recognised you right away. I apologise.”
Duncan's new recruit was definitely not what Alistair had anticipated; for one, she was a woman; two, she was as tall as he was, and if the way she carried herself in that armour, she probably was just as strong; and three, she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.
He had to mentally scold himself. She was a recruit, and even if she made it through the Joining, the quality of her armour and weapons, the heraldry, and the way she stood straight as an arrow indicated that she was of noble birth and that she would never, ever, be interested in a bastard like him.
If she was to be a Grey Warden, then he was going to be in hell.
“And you must be Alistair.”
His eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “Did Duncan mention me?” He asked, the tiniest bit self-conscious. “Nothing bad, I hope...”
She chuckled again. “No, nothing bad; even if he did, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”
It was Alistair’s turn to snort. “Anyway, as the junior member of the Order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”
To his relief, she didn’t look too fussed about what the Joining actually was. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t think he’d be able to lie to her about it if she did ask him. Then again, he wasn’t the best liar anyway, so the fact that she hadn’t asked was doubly relieving.
“You know, if just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens,” he said, attempting to distract her. “I wonder why that is.”
The recruit raised an eyebrow. “Probably because we’re too smart for you.”
Her response made him smile. It looked like she wasn’t too aloof for friendly banter after all. “True, but if you’re here, what does that make you?”
She stared straight at him, her grey eyes meeting his amber, and in the most deadpan voice she could muster, replied, “Incredibly unlucky.”
Alistair could only stare after her as she gave him a wicked smile and turned around to head back to the camp. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that response, but Alistair would freely admit that she’d beaten him in whatever that was.
It was only as she descended the ramp towards the camp that Alistair realised that she’d never told him her name. He’d have to get it from Duncan before they left for the Wilds, as he didn’t want to be more or less alone with her without having anything to call her. If he didn’t get her name, there was nothing he could call her without describing, and he didn’t want her, nor the other recruits or Duncan, to know that she may have accidentally stolen his heart with a wicked smile and a short conversation. If that were the case, if- when she survived, he would never live it down.