The sun was high and so were the spirits of the party, having just rescued a band of travelers from a motley party of darkspawn on the road to Orzammar. Alistair wiped his brow and surveyed the carnage around him. Ten feet away, he noticed a lone flower swaying incongruously in the slight wind. Beside it, Morrigan cast one last, blinding spell upon her opponent and the monster clawed futilely at its eyes as it crumpled to the ground, smoking.

Her chest rose and fell as she drew deep, heavy breathes, sweat trickling down her forehead from the exertions. The witch paused as she realized Alistair was watching, and fixed him with an angry glare with her amber eyes. Alistair blanched.

"You need not gape at me as if I were one of your cheese rounds, Templar. I care not for your prejudices about my magic."

"What? I would - I wasn't - You're just a mean old swamp hag and who grumbles a lot and no one would ever want you!"

Morrigan's lips twisted into an expression Alistair couldn't place, somewhere between scorn and hate. Her golden eyes promised fire and retribution as she glared at him intently for several long moments before turning around without another word and stalking off towards the woods.

Alistair bit his lip, feeling stupid. There was no need to provoke her. Why did he say that? He took a few steps in the direction that she walked off in, then stopped. He clenched and unclenched his fist. At his feet was the flower he had noticed earlier, all alone amongst the carnage. He plucked it and touched the smooth simplicity of the voluptuous open petals, seemingly so delicate and yet here it was, a bright bloom amongst the weeds. He looked again in the direction of the departing apostate, a mix of emotions inside him.