You would not believe the number of times I tried to say Alistair was Eamon's uncle in this chapter, rather than the other way around. *Facepalm. Uh, anyways… Thanks for checking this out and staying with me for so long. And for putting up with my sporadic – at best – update schedule. Sorry about that, folks!

Yeah, another thing, I have no idea where this one was going. It kind of took on a whole mind of its own while I wrote. This turned out nothing like I expected it to.

Can You Say "Mixed Group"?

We share the same spaces - The Stairs ~ INXS

We stopped for the night a short walk off the road in a pine stand. Bodahn looked quite surprised to see the Antivan assassin following us into camp. The elf was astonished to see the merchant too. Introductions went around and Sandal seemed very excited to have a new friend. Sten looked on in mild dissatisfaction – but then, he always did – while Morrigan kept staring daggers at Zevran. Leliana held one eye on the new member of our little group and Alistair's hand hadn't left the hilt of his sword since the tussle on the road. Zevran seemed to ignore them all, absently scratching Clueless's ears as the mabari leaned along my side. It had taken a little convincing to get the elf so close to the war hound but now Zevran appeared to be making small talk with the dog.

Morrigan and I made supper, not forgetting the fact the Antivan was in fact an assassin. He looked on in chagrin.

"So, where are we going?" Zevran finally broke the awkward silence that had descended upon us during the meal.

"Denerim," Alistair replied curtly after I glared at him to speak.

"Why thank you, I never would have guessed that. I mean, you have a war party and are going to the capital city of Ferelden on the only highway there," the elf drawled sarcastically.

I giggled into my fist, not entirely able to quash the sound. "We seek a scholar named Genetivi," I clarified, having passed my mirth off as a small cough. "He is supposed to have the whereabouts of the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

Zevran frowned slightly. "And what is that?"

Leliana gave a small gasp of horror. "It is only the ashes of the Prophet Andraste! Her ashes are here in Ferelden and are said to have healing properties," she explained, affronted at his lack of knowledge.

Alistair shot her a warning glance. One of Leliana's shoulders lifted in a barely noticeable shrug.

Zevran nodded sagely. "And yet you are all well. Why do we need magical soot?"

"Someone very near and dear to us is very ill. Poisoned and magically ill. Nothing attempted has changed their condition. A relative heard of the Urn and declared it to be the only hope of restoring our friend. I just really hope it works," Alistair babbled before I could stop him.

I fought the urge to bring a hand to my eyes in disappointment. The shadows in Zevran's eyes betrayed that he was aware he had been lied to. Well, that he hadn't been given the whole truth at least.

"Did you see anyone other than Loghain when you were sent after us?" I asked, trying to move away from the sensitive subject.

"There was a man, he had a high bearing and ratty face. A nobleman of some sort or another I would say, with a strange name. Terran Whom or some such – "

"Howe," Alistair interrupted. "Teryn Howe. He assumed the Terynir of Highever when the Couslands were killed."

Zevran flashed him an annoyed look before continuing, " – and a beautiful blonde maid. She was very angry at Loghain."

"That would be Queen Anora," put in Leliana. "I wonder what she thinks of her father after he left her husband to die at Ostagar."

We had already convinced the ex-Chantry Sister about that then. It was very refreshing to know someone who hadn't personally witnessed the display and believe Alistair's and my side of the story.

"Yes, because leaving Cailan would make her so happy anyways," Alistair spat angrily.

Despite having it been made clear that Alistair felt nothing for Maric and his half-brother, he was still a bit unhappy over Cailan's passing. Or maybe it was simply that he was left alone in line for a throne he never wanted.

"Near and dear to whom?" Zevran asked suddenly.

"Sorry?" I queried, unsure where that had come from.

"The person ill, you said, was somebody close to you. There is no way that they could be very important to all of you," he explained. "You are an elvhen mage, the other two lovely ladies are human – and one is a mage – Sten is a qunari and Alistair, is it? Is a far cry from the witch. Although, from the way they squabble, is it so hard to believe that they are siblings?"

This elf didn't miss anything. For a moment, that revelation shocked us all into a stunned silence in which no one moved. Alistair's eyes widened.

"So, if you would please give me a little more to go on…?" he prompted.

"I am not his sister!" Morrigan exclaimed in indignation and jabbed a long-nailed finger at Alistair's chest.

"Hm," went Zevran a little skeptically. "But thank you for that bit of useless information."

I stammered for a moment before Alistair cut me off with a look. I shut my mouth and nodded to him to go ahead.

"Me," the templar said. "This person is a relative of mine. Arl Eamon is his name and he is my uncle."

Zevran's face remained impassive as he recorded that piece of knowledge. Did he even understand what the Warden was talking about? Not likely. He only wanted an honest answer as he had already – I hope – given us one.

"And you?" I pressed. "Why are you here?"

"Loghain, being the charming fellow he is, put a request in for the Antivan Crows to clean up the Grey Warden mess he found himself standing in." He shrugged. "The highest bidder won the job."

"And you were the highest bidder?" Leliana arched an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. I was the, ah, only bidder. You are Grey Wardens after all. You are, ah, quite… dangerous," stuttered the elf. "And, also, it smells like cold, wet dogs here."

"Why am I not surprised?" Alistair groaned at that.

"A suicide mission?" I asked. I wasn't particularly happy to have connected those dots. Someone looking for death was hardly companion material.

Zevran looked away. "Are you going to interrogate me all night, again? I am tired," he remarked, effectively confirming my suspicions.

I bowed my head and apologized.

The Crow stood and crossed the camp to disappear into a newer looking tent. When he had crawled into the canvas shelter Alistair sighed. "Well that was… enlightening."

I laughed. "You know you would want answers if you were him."

The other Warden shrugged. "Why would Anora be upset with her father?"

"Are you even listening to yourself Alistair?" huffed Leliana. "He abandoned her husband and betrayed her."

"I, too, tire of this tedious conversation." Morrigan stalked to the other edge of the clearing and retreated into her tent.

I called a goodnight after her as the witch faded from view. Alistair and I headed to our own bedrolls not long after, leaving Leliana and Sten to keep watch. I slept fitfully for the last night in a very long time.

XOX

The next day was much cooler than the last. Frost glittered on the ground and coated the trees, making them look as though someone had sprinkled tiny pinpricks of silverite over them. Clueless was sent, much to his distress, with Bodahn and Sandal. Everyone gathered in the clearing for breakfast before setting off for the road again.

The day's march was uneventful and, to be honest, boring as nothing had ever bored me before. Alistair reluctantly answered Zevran's increasingly ridiculous questions – "I like my hair the way it is!" – Morrigan looked on reproachfully as I tried to keep the men from wringing one another's necks. Well, keep Alistair from throttling the elf at any rate. I just fought down the urge to claw the arrogant smirk off the Antivan's face. Leliana only offered the occasional comment about nothing in particular and Sten was content to frown impassively at the surrounding forest all day. They would be hard nuts to crack.

Eventually it was all I could do not to just knock Alistair's and Zevran's heads together. The assassin had gotten the other Warden would up about tattoos and stood back to watch him go for ages. I don't think either of them knew what they were trying to convince the other of anymore.

The days following passed in a similar manner. One night we were all seated before a warm fire, wrapped in furs to protect against the chill. An uneasy truce between Alistair and Zevran had formed when the conversation wandered in Morrigan's direction once again. The two seemed to have it out for her, despite the witch being the most prickly of the party.

"If you jest at me one more time I will not hesitate to turn you all into toads," she threatened.

Alistair's eyes grew round in fright. Zevran's did not.

"My apologies, of course," said the elf smoothly.

I rolled my eyes, did everything just roll off his back like that?

"Why did you take the contract for us?" Alistair asked. He hadn't pressed the Antivan much since the first day, but now he did. Maybe he – like me – thought that now the Crow would be more open to the question since we had become better acquainted.

"I…" A shadow flickered over Zevran's face. Maybe the Warden had finally found a nerve with this topic. "I needed the money," he said lamely, staring evenly into the flames.

"You said yesterday that you didn't get paid. That your masters did," Alistair pounced on the elf's transparent answer.

"Fine, fine, if you really must know Alistair. This is really why." Zevran launched into a wild tale about an Antivan woman, four mercenaries and a pair of Dalish-made gloves. None of us believed it for a moment but still he talked, making it up as he went.

"If I ask you again, will you tell me the real reason?" I queried.

Leliana dropped the lute she had been idly strumming, catching it deftly before it hit the packed dirt between her and I.

"No." Zevran studied a long scratch on one of his elbow guards.

"Great," Morrigan and Alistair muttered in unison.

I nodded and decided that if the Antivan wanted to tell, then he would with no amount of cajoling from the rest of the group. The circle around the fire slowly grew tighter as members of the group retired for the night. At long last, only Leliana and I remained in the red light of the fire.

I sighed, watching as my breath billowed out and away over the sparks from the campfire. I wished that with that vanishing breath, my nightmares would follow and fade as well. Each night they seemed to worsen, the next one more terrifying than the last. That morning I had woken drenched in sweat and gagging from the stench of blood my subconscious dredged up from memory. I pretended not to see the concerned look from Alistair, knowing that even though his kept him from sleeping all night, mine kept me up hours after everyone else.

"When you dream," Leliana spoke hesitantly, "do you know you are sleeping?"

I was surprised by her question. "N-no, I guess I don't."

She looked thoughtful for a heartbeat. "Perhaps this is what makes them so horrible. You, as a mage, are unused to being unaware like that. You are uncertain how to deal with the unknowing each of us face every night we close our eyes. The fact that you cannot control the frightening images and sounds might worsen each night because, deep down, you can feel that you are safe even though the taint makes you more open to the darkspawn."

"I hadn't even thought of that," I admitted. Now it seemed silly that I completely ignored the notion. Then I felt myself droop. "But that doesn't matter, the next time I close my eyes, they'll be there. The awareness is always just beneath the surface."

Leliana gazed evenly at me.

"I… It's hard to describe this," I said, looking for the words to try to help her understand. "It's like a shadow, living in my skin. A kind of… filth that I can't seem to wash off – no matter how hard I scrub, it will always be there. With that feeling I can sense, I guess I'd call it foreboding. The feeling that something terrible is poised to happen. Every day it feels just a tiny bit stronger. One day, it'll let go, release, and I suspect that day we will face the true Blight. It feels like that when I sleep."

"Thank you for your honesty. It is rarely easy to remember something this painful, but one is often rewarded when a friend listens." The ex-Chantry Sister's face took on a thoughtful expression once more. "Why did you tell me instead of Alistair?"

"I…" I had no answer for that. Well, maybe I did. I just had no intention of letting anyone know.

"You didn't want him to think you were afraid," she crowed. "You thought he would take you for a fool and not think so highly of you. You like him!"

My face went hot all over. "Shhh! Keep your voice down," I begged. "Someone might hear you."

"Well," Leliana appeared very much pleased with herself. "I won't tell anyone. You have my word." She winked.

I hid my face in my hands. "You are a very mean lady," I joked. "How did you guess?"

She took a deep breath before replying. "I was trained to read people in Orlais."

I nodded. If she could wait for me to go to her with my troubles, I could be patient and allow Leliana her own time. "Did you find that helpful?"

She toed around a pebble before answering. "In my line of work, yes. It made all the difference knowing how a person thought of you."

I twisted my fingers together and looked up at the night sky. "Well, this has been enlightening," I said, releasing her from any feeling of obligation to speak any more. "I am really tired. Despite my nightmares, I should really get some sleep."

She dipped her head, trying to hide the tinge of relief in her features.

I stood and stretched. "Goodnight."

Leliana returned the sentiment and crossed camp to wake Sten. As she did so, I moved in the direction of Alistair's. Ducking inside, I found the almost-templar in the throes of his own bad dreams. I knelt in the mess of his bedroll and caught his arm. While I gave it a hard shake I called his name.

Alistair stared up at me, fear still lingering in his eyes. "Watch?" he mumbled groggily.

"Yes, all quiet," I replied. I quickly exited the tent, feeling my face grow hot under his bleary gaze.

Did I really like the fumbling Warden? Sure he was kind and funny. And a good fighter, and strong and – I cut myself off there. Yeah, I thought Leliana pretty well hit the nail on the head there. I collapsed in my own tent and closed my eyes. Even though I dreaded the dark whispers that would follow me as soon as I fell into a deep sleep and wake shivering I needed to rest.