Hi! :D This would be my first DA:O fic. I have played Awakening, but I edited quite a few choices that you can possibly make in the game. Character dialogue has also been heavily edited primarily because I can't actually remember what happens in the game, and I have to bend it to fit the situations here. Hopefully that's not frowned upon x_x If it is, I truly apologize!

I own nothing of Dragon Age. If anything, I own my fem!Mahariel. Hope you enjoy! (: Reviews are love!

"No." his fist removed itself from the wall, and he strode past her, turning his back to look out of the window. "If he is to fight, he will not be seen talking to me, or attempting to take control of the armies of this castle. He will take control of the armies that we have from our recruitments and treaties, apart from the Knights of Redcliffe. If he is to fight, you will be the one to take full responsibility of his actions, which includes how he may just get up and leave the battlefield like he did at Ostagar. Since you have chosen him over me...Ayne, we no longer know each other. I am the King of Ferelden, you are a Grey Warden I once knew."

"Alistai-"

"Out. Just get out."

Ayne opened her eyes in a fright – that scene again. She hated it, it just reminded her of the decision that she had to make, the decision that ultimately cost her the one man she loved. Honestly till now, she questioned her decision sometimes, wondering what would have happened had she chosen to let Loghain die. Maybe Alistair would still be by her side.

She couldn't remember how long it had been since she had last seen him. A year maybe? Possibly more. Contact between the two of them was effectively cut off the moment he told her to get out. A year had passed, and she still couldn't really let it go. Sighing as she got up from the bed, she moved to the window. It was barely morning with the sky still a greyish-blue, with a layer of mist, a cool breeze supplied by the light shower - perfect weather to sit in the Keep's library and read.

Moving to the mirror, she gazed at her reflection. She didn't realise that there were so many bandages on her. Across her lower elbow, around her right calf and across her abdomen, all of which were sustained during the struggle with the Mother. She winced slightly as she touched her stomach, having the deepest gash of all. "Getting much too careless for comfort," she muttered as the bandages were changed, ground elfroot placed directly on the wounds. Dressing in her drakeskin armour, she slung her longsword and dagger over her back and headed to the library.

It was rather surreal as she walked down the halls of the Vigil, knowing that so much had happened over such a short period of time. In just over a year and a half, she had stopped the Blight from truly occurring, killed the Mother, which subsequently led to the darkspawn threat eliminating itself. And yet, to her, all she wanted to do was to go home to her clan and see them. She hadn't had time for anything related to her Dalish nature ever since the Blight that never began, or the subsequent problem with the Mother. In all honesty she felt like running away from all her duties for a while, go to Ostagar and find her clan again, to talk and spend time with. It had been so long that she had met her clan – she wondered how Marethari was doing, whether or not Fenarel had improved in his archery such that he could best her, if Merrill had become less stern. She smiled slightly at the thought. If anything, at least Alistair had enough sense and gave them Ostagar for them to settle down instead of moving about all the time.

She stopped herself when her eyes came across that particular painting – Cailan Theirin's portrait. She had met him only once before, and while there were differences to how they looked, the resemblance was slightly disturbing. Walking away from the painting, it was like having Alistair's eyes and warm smile follow her, which was something she wanted to forget and avoid. It only triggered bad memories.

It felt weird to finally address her feelings on the whole problem, her emotions, her take. In the year and a half she just hadn't had time to tend to her failed relationship and attempt to talk to Alistair regarding his reaction. She knew that she had closed off the emotional side of her for that time, to tackle the problem at hand, but after everything was gone, there just wasn't a purpose. She felt so apathetic towards everything, but she knew that something had to be done, to attain closure.

The withstanding issue was painfully obvious – she wanted to apologize to Alistair when he had calmed down, to apologize for her actions then since it hurt him. However, if she were to talk to him now, would it reopen the wound that she had caused, and reignite the embers of his anger, or would it cause those said embers to be completely put out? Even if she did talk to him, it would be awkward, and she wasn't good with awkward situations at all. Even when she was reporting to the wives of the deceased Blackstone Irregulars, she always had (well, well) Alistair or Wynne do the explaining for her. Having that inner turmoil had cost her, to the point that now she was only sure of two things: that she was unclear whether or not she was still in love with Alistair, and whether or not she should apologize, due to her being completely unclear on her own emotions in the first place.

It wasn't that she was Tranquil like the mages that she had met, with every single form of emotion stripped away. She was just unsure regarding anything to do with emotions, when to discern care and concern from love.

You just don't want to admit that it was your own actions that caused Alistair to leave you. That it was your fault.

Placing her emotions at the back of her mind, she closed her eyes and calmed herself down. There would be time later to handle her emotional problems – she'd write a missive to Wynne and Zevran later, ask them for their opinion. Although her comrades had gone their separate ways, she knew how to contact Zevran despite him wandering all over Ferelden, and she knew Wynne would be at the Tower. Through her journey, the two of them were particularly close to her, giving her comfort whenever she needed it. Taking heart in their presence, Ayne took a deep breath and continued walking on. It was a new day at the Keep, and there was a treasure trove of books waiting for her.

Slipping behind the bookshelf, Nathaniel looked at her. It was that same wistful look, the same look she had whenever her guard was down. As a rogue, he could tell when she was putting on a front. Call it gut instinct, but he was able to catch people off-guard. He could tell from the start that Ayne was always putting up a front – she would never show emotion, she would never show weakness in front of her men whenever they were on the battlefield. Even when they were in the Keep, she rarely let down her guard. In a sense she was never truly herself. There were only two instances thus far that he had seen her let down her guard.

The first was when he had seen her smile and laughing with Anders. He had to admit it - the mage had a way of opening people up, to let them relax around him. Must be his ridiculously jovial and kind nature, even if he is an apostate. Her smile was beautiful, the way her amethyst eyes seemed to sparkle each time she laughed. While she laughed, Anders would smile warmly and look at her, like an older brother looking after his younger sister, giving her a slight hug whenever she had to leave due to her duties that waited for her.

The second was when she was talking to him, in front of the portrait of Theirin in the hallway. He had walked up to her while she was staring at it without saying a word. He was about to call out for her, but when he got closer, he noticed that her eyes were near the brink of tears, her expression one of sadness, close to hopelessness even. It was then she noticed he was coming and quickly wiped her eyes, turning away for a moment. When he gotten close enough to reach out, she turned around again, stone-faced.

"Commander? Are you alright?" He had reached out, putting a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, Nate," she had even give him a quick smile. The slight quaver in her voice had given her away, but her eyes, her face remained blank like a slate. She could smile and yet tell him she was fine when she was so close to tearing earlier.

Other than that though, there was no times that he recalled where she visibly let her guard down, where she showed any kind of emotion. Her demeanour around others was like a slate – blank and cold.

It worried him.

She could hide her emotions so quickly and so well – he wasn't fooled, but it was actually quite convincing. He was sure that she did this quite often as well, else she wouldn't have recovered so quickly from the time he saw her in front of the past King's portrait.

The two of them had become closer throughout their fights together, and more than once she had opened up to him, telling him about her clan, about Tamlen. Apart from that however, it was a mystery. He realised that no one actually knew Ayne very well, that all they knew was the surface, nothing deeper.

He was fascinated with her, and wanted to know so much more about her. As he sneaked away from the library, he sighed and threw a last glance at her.

There was a wall between her and everyone else in the Keep – he hoped he could help break it apart.

Varel sat in his study in the Keep when a messenger came running to him. Handing him a missive, he recognized the seal immediately. Tearing it open, he scanned it, his face turning slightly pale.

"Give this missive to the Warden-Commander," his voice became grim, "tell her the King is coming in less than 2 days."

Author's Note: Yay, so the first chapter is up! Let me know what you think; love it, hate it, suggestions, comments? ^^