Choices

by Miri1984

Human circle mage finds herself presented with a series of moral choices and needs a little bit more than guidance from one of her party members.

CHOICES

CHAPTER ONE

The eye fixed him in it's malevolent glare, boring into him. It knew where he was. It knew what he was and it scorned him. The massive jaws opened and he braced himself for the roar he knew would wake him...

Alistair jerked awake in a pool of sweat. He sat up slowly and cradled his head in his hands. Most nights since his joining had been interrupted like this - or with dreams about Martin who hadn't made it. But that was the first time he'd actually felt like the archdemon had seen him. His heart was still pounding. At least he hadn't screamed out like the first few times.

When he looked up from his hands, though, he saw Duncan sitting near the entrance to the tent looking at him. The older man's face was haggard and Alistair could see sweat on his brow, almost as though he had just been through exactly what Alistair had.

The other wardens were still sleeping. Of them all only Alistair still had the dreams - the other recruits had managed to control them fairly early on. He thought it was a sign that he was weaker than they were, but he'd kept that thought to himself. Duncan nodded at him and motioned towards the tent entrance.

He could do with some fresh air. It was hot in Ostagar - hotter than Redcliffe at this time of year, although he'd felt the heat much more since his joining as well.

He got up as silently as he could and followed Duncan outside the Warden's tent. The two men stood looking out over the fires of the camp, silent for a few moments in easy companionship. Alistair was always grateful that Duncan never expected him to make conversation. His usual urge to fill silences was curbed when he was with the older warden - he felt comfortable enough with him not to joke.

"Dreams again?" Duncan finally said. Alistair nodded.

"I saw the archdemon," he replied.

"As did I," Duncan said. Alistair was shocked. If Duncan was dreaming again that could only mean... The older man saw Alistair's expression and chuckled softly.

"Come now, Alistair," he said softly. "I'm nearing fifty. Surely you didn't expect me to last so long. It's a good thing they've started now or I'd be too feeble to hold a sword, let alone travel to Orzammar."

"But.. we need you. The blight.."

"Will hopefully be over long before I make that last trip, boy. We're hoping to end it here if you remember. Or weren't you listening to your brother's inspirational speech this evening?"

Alistair grimaced at the mention of Cailan. None of the other wardens knew about his heritage - he often wondered how Duncan had learned of it. Probably Cailan had blurted it out. His half-brother never had much tact, and he hero worshipped Duncan.

"You arrived in time for that?" Alistair said. "How lucky." Duncan chuckled again. "Did you find the recruit you were looking for in the tower?"

Duncan's expression became more serious. "Indeed," he said softly. "Una. She was worn out from her journey though. I left her in the mage's encampment for now. Better she not be exposed to our... idiosyncracies. Not at least until after her joining."

Alistair cocked an eyebrow. "A mage.... and a woman?" he said.

"At least one of those you've had experience with I take it?" Alistair blushed furiously, glad that the darkness meant it couldn't be seen.

"You know me and mages," he said. Duncan smiled.

"She's quite interesting. I'll look forward to hearing your opinion of her actually. Let's hope her joining goes smoothly."

Alistair shuddered, suddenly cold in the mild air.

"You should get some sleep, Alistair," Duncan said. "I don't think we'll be troubled by any more dreams tonight." He put his hand on Alistair's shoulder and seemed about to say more, but simply nodded and turned back to the tent.

Alistair followed, but sleep was a long time returning.

The morning dawned muggy and with the promise of rain. Alistair dressed, wincing at the feel of the splintmail over his padded undershirt. It would be wet with sweat in minutes in this humidity. And the smell would follow.

Duncan wanted him to meet with the new recruits and he sought them out one by one - Jory seemed typically battle eager although there was a lingering worry in his eyes that had Alistair unsettled. Daveth, after he stopped him from picking his pocket, was fun and Alistair warmed to him quickly. But he couldn't find the newest recruit anywhere. He ended up foolishly wandering near the revered mother - a mistake as he was roped into message duty. He gritted his teeth and went to find the mage in question. Mages were going to make his day worse.

He was gently trying to extricate himself from the message conversation (although Duncan wouldn't have called it gently he supposed) when he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. Taller than he expected. Unremarkable looking, he thought at first. The mage finally left in a huff and he turned to face her, smiling.

"One good thing about the blight is how it brings people together," he said, and abruptly forgot why he was there.

At first glance she was unremarkable looking - reddish brown hair, pale skin and lips, but when she looked up and caught his eyes he nearly stepped back. Her eyes were large and piercing - blue with dark rims round the iris, and aside from the obvious magical power they held they had a twinkle to them that matched the half-grin she had on her face that also brought out what looked suspiciously like a dimple. He didn't catch her reply. He hoped his own was appropriate, although he suspected it wasn't.

They walked back to camp together as she quizzed him about the wardens and Duncan. "You travelled with him back from the tower?" he asked her.

She nodded. "We didn't talk much. But he was good company. Usually I like to talk, but there's something calming about him."

Alistair smiled. Most of the recruits felt that way about Duncan, but few would admit it, at least not to him. She seemed more willing to talk than the other recruits and he wondered if it was because she was... well.. a she...

He suddenly found himself hoping he didn't sound like an idiot.

The seriousness of the coming joining made him forget his problems for the time being. Into the wilds to face darkspawn again. He was confident about his own abilities - but he'd never fought alongside a mage before and he wasn't entirely sure how it would go. There were warden mages but most of them were far older than he and had been recruited years before. And they avoided him.

It occurred to him that Una didn't know he'd been a templar and he suddenly felt it was necessary to tell her.

Jory and Daveth were kitting up just before the gates. She was leaning against a tree in her robes with her staff on her back watching them with a slight smile on her face which widened when he approached.

"Alistair, are we ready?" she asked him. He motioned to Daveth and Jory. "As soon as they're done we're out," he said. "Um."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I need to tell you something. About me. Before I was a warden.." He swallowed. "I was a templar initiate."

The change that came over her face was immediate and a little frightening. The grin disappeared and a shadow of pain passed over her face before it was replaced by a hard look. "Suddenly your argument with Toreth makes a little more sense," she said.

"Toreth? Oh, the message receiver. Yes. It does bring the whole thing into perspective a bit I suppose."

"An initiate? You never took your vows?" her eyes were more piercing than ever.

"No, thank the maker. Duncan got to me before that."

"You sound like you didn't want to be a templar." Was that relief he heard in her voice?

"It wasn't my choice, no. But sometimes you don't have much choice in how your life turns out."

She frowned and nodded. "You can say that again. Feel free not to though."

"I know a lot of mages hate the templars - I just wanted you to know before we went into the wilds together. If we encounter any emissaries I might need to cleanse and you'll need to be aware that it could happen."

"Emissaries?"

"Darkspawn mages."

"Ah. Yes, them. Well, thank you for telling me. I don't have a lot of reasons to like templars, but you're not one, and it sounds like you're glad not to be one which shows an uncommon amount of sense. Try not dispel every useful thing I cast out there and we'll get along fine."

He nodded. Jory and Daveth were waiting by the gate. It was time to face the darkspawn.

Blood and battles were nothing new to Alistair. He'd been trained for it most of his life. He still couldn't quite get used to sensing the darkspawn though - which was probably a good thing. Fighting alongside a mage wasn't as difficult as he'd imagined - a bit like being alongside a skilled archer with added bonuses and he found he could adapt his own style to compliment hers. Jory and Daveth were capable enough, he supposed, but he found himself admiring the variety and cleverness of her spellcasting.

When they returned Duncan was waiting for them. Alistair was gripped by a sudden fear for the new recruits. Martin's last moments were fresh in his mind as he said the traditional words. Maker hold you, he thought as Daveth lifted the chalice to his lips. And forgive us if I don't want to join you just yet.

CHAPTER TWO

This is the first chance I've had to write since Ostagar. Yesterday and the day before were so hectic - we hardly slept let alone had a chance to reflect on what had happened. Iriving insisted we keep these journals - I know why he insisted on mine but it's a habit you get into and I find myself wishing I'd brought my old one from the tower. I suppose I felt that Duncan was going to sever me from that life forever. It was a relief in a way. But now we're on our way back there and I find myself wanting to cling to old habits.

The joining went smoothly according to Alistair. Mine, any way. I suppose smoothly means something different when you're a grey warden. It was what came after that had us both rattled. Being told we were to be out of the battle had been something of a relief for me - I haven't tried myself enough to be happy with facing a horde of darkspawn, especially with others nearby exposed to friendly fire. But to then have to fight our way to the top of the tower - talk about emotional ups and downs.

Although to tell the truth they've mostly been downs. Since Jowan.

I still can't take in that Cailan and Duncan are dead. That all the rest of the grey wardens are dead for that matter. Alistair has deferred to me and it still feels strange. I've only been a warden for a couple of days and he thinks I can lead? I'll need to talk to him about it.

I need to write down my thoughts about him, and Morrigan and Sten and Leliana too. I should probably even mention the dog, although what can one say about a Mabari warhound that hasn't been said a hundred times? Sometimes she's cute. She brought me a half eaten sausage yesterday. It was a lovely gesture.

Morrigan I find myself warming to, despite the antagonism between her and Alistair. She's sensible and practical. And, of course, evil, but if you can put that aside she's actually quite good company. Sten - not so good. But he's good in a fight and to be honest I get a crick in my neck trying to talk to him, so why bother? He takes orders which is all I really care about with a quanari.

Leliana, now she IS crazy, but it's a crazy I quite enjoy. Alistair seems to like her, and I find myself trusting his judgement about people. He's seems like such a... nice person - no that sounds horrible. He's a decent man and I think he recognises that Leliana means well.

He's a problem though. The grief for Duncan is palpable around him, despite the jokes. I hope he can stay together. I don't want to do this on my own.

Alistair stared into the fire. He wasn't willing to sleep yet, not and have nightmares again. He would almost welcome another visit from the archdemon but he knew that wouldn't be the first thing he dreamt about tonight. Memories of Duncan were crowding him. Memories of what had happened in Lothering. He'd been too numb to think about the people they were leaving behind, even with Leliana and Sten to remind him that their company had changed.

Una was sleeping. She didn't know about the nightmares yet. She'd probably wake soon, he could hear her thrashing about. The others were asleep. He was glad Morrigan had decided to pitch her tent (her PERSONAL tent) a long way from the rest of them. She'd even lit her own fire. He allowed himself a brief, indulgent moment bitch.

There was a gasp from the other side of the fire and Una sat up. She was dripping with sweat, but she hadn't made any noise save for that one gasp. Alistair was impressed. He hadn't been the only recruit to scream the first night. He explained as best he could. She seemed very accepting. Alistair wished he could be as calm.

She busied herself with getting ready to move. Leliana, Sten and Morrigan were still sleeping but he assumed they'd be up soon enough. He sat near the stream and rested his head against a tree. He was more tired than he thought.

It was some time later when he woke to a hand on his knee. Una was kneeling next to him holding a bowl of porridge. "Everyone else is up," she said softly. "I thought you needed some more sleep so I told them to polish their armour for a while."

He blinked. The sun was well up. He hadn't dreamed at all and he felt, though groggy, better than he had since Ostagar.

"Thank you," he said, taking the bowl. She sat on the ground next to him.

"I wanted to ask you something," she said as he ate. He looked at her. "And I didn't want to ask it in front of the others. Well, not in front of Morrigan any way."

"Go ahead," he said.

"Why aren't you in charge here? Why have you left it to me?" her voice was gentle, but it had steel behind it. Something told him she wasn't asking because she was unhappy with the situation, but she was unhappy with something.

"I thought we'd covered that," he said.

"Oh, you tried," she said, and there was a hint of a smile there. "I don't think you gave Morrigan the whole story though."

He sighed and shrugged. "How old are you?" he asked her. She looked affronted, and he laughed. "You look about what - eighteen?" She shrugged. "I'm twenty. I was in the chantry for ten of those years and before that - well - you heard that story. I've been coddled my whole life in one way or another. I have no life experience, and no command experience. You, on the other hand..."

She sighed. "You're not telling me everything Alistair."

He swallowed a mouthful of suddenly dry porridge. "My lady is too perceptive."

"But not persuasive."

"I'm sure you could persuade me to tell you anything. Eventually. But maybe we should wait till the Blight is defeated. We all have things we'd rather not talk about."

She cocked an eyebrow and nodded, and he suddenly knew there was something she wasn't telling him either. "Are you comfortable with leading?" he asked her. "We have a job to do - and we'll get it done together. But I don't want you to resent me for putting you in a position you don't want."

She shrugged again. "Hey, I kind of fell into this as well you know," she said. "And it seems I have the ability and the inclination. Who am I to refuse?"

He grinned, suddenly feeling a lot better. "Thanks for the porridge by the way. I didn't think it was a leader's duty to cook for their men."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, I got Morrigan to cook that," she said. "Told her it was especially for you too."

He was sure she'd waited till he had a full mouthful before saying that.

The journey to the mages circle is so familiar to me now. Three times I've made it. The first time... well I took notice of my surroundings when I had the opportunity. You do that when you're looking for ways to escape. The second I was with Duncan and I had more time to contemplate the beauty of Ferelden. His quiet presence next to me was so comforting - I can almost feel it now. This time I was more excited - here I was, a grey warden, in command of my own party - this will show them that they were right not to make me tranquil. That Jowan's betrayal - and mine - didn't confirm all the things they said about me when I arrived.

I can still remember Iriving's face that day. The worst of it was he hadn't been surprised. Here I was - an eleven year old girl with the blood of two grown men on my hands - in my hair - all over me, and he wasn't surprised.

They'd known. That was what I found out later. The templars had KNOWN about Artur and Renold and STILL sent them out after new mages. When I was older I found some of the others - they had never told anyone about it (well - although people knew, I never told anyone directly either). They were good mages, those girls. Two of them had killed themselves. One had become a blood mage and run - she'd been roped back in again and executed. The last three - they were like me. They'd found a way to cope - to excel in their studies - to become the last thing the circle had expected. Useful. Powerful.

They loved me - for what I'd done. I'd freed them.

Enough of that. I've written it all before but it feels important again for some reason.

Ah, for some reason. Not entirely honest. For one reason.

Alistair.

I don't know when it first started but I can't seem to stop watching him. He moves so gracefully. The light hits his skin differently. In the morning - when he's training - I find myself staring. Leliana grins at me. I sometimes wonder if she really was a chantry sister - or what she was before that. There's a look in those eyes that tells me she's seen a lot more than I have. A lot more of a lot of things.

Maybe it's just because we've been through so much. But I can't help teasing him. I can't help seeking his company out when I should be sleeping. He understands why I don't want to sleep (although not all of it, not yet).

I need to focus on the circle. Irving will help. After that? I think Redcliffe. Perhaps by then Alistair will tell me what it is he's been hiding.

Maker's breath. I hope it isn't a wife and children.

At the mages circle he found a box to put the rose in. It was amazing it still lived. He touched the petals with a gloved hand before he sealed it and thought of her voice, gently teasing him about his virginity. Where did SHE get the time for relationships? Or was she just good at hiding things?

Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are? His stomach still turned over when he remembered the look she gave him as she asked. She was so beautiful.

The next morning in camp she wasn't anywhere to be found when he woke. Leliana was cooking thank goodness it wasn't Sten again and the others were in various states of repose. There was a river nearby - they were in a heavily wooded region and she'd mentioned how much she loved water. He dressed hastily - armour, there were still darkspawn about - and went to the riverbed.

There was a slight rise in the land as he approached the water so he was largely concealed from her view. She was kneeling next to the fast rushing water, one hand trailing in it, her eyes half closed. He thought he could see a tear on one cheek and was momentarily surprised. Then he chastised himself - she'd just seen her home of ten years desecrated by abominations - probably lost half of her childhood friends - he would have been crying the whole time whereas she'd managed to keep herself completely calm. No wonder she'd wanted to be alone.

He was about to respect her privacy when he noticed she was leaning dangerously close to the water. It took him a moment to realise she was almost unconscious - the amount of magic she'd performed in the last few days had probably left her dangerously weak and she obviously hadn't been sleeping well. He rushed forward and grabbed an arm to stop her from falling into the river.

Instantly her eyes snapped open. He cried out in pain as her hands suddenly lit up with electricity. He heard her cry out something harsh and gutteral as his vision darkened to black and he fell backwards and down..

Her frantic voice roused him. "Alistair! Alistair, oh Maker if I've killed you.. please, please..." he could feel her hands on his chest, pressing gently there - and there as she muttered under her breath. She was cursing - some truly inventive things were pouring out of her mouth - he wished he had a pen. "They should have made me tranquil... Irving why did you let me do this? Alistair, please. I didn't know it was you..." His eyes fluttered open and he saw her leaning over him.

"Hey," he said. "What's all the fuss about?"

She closed her eyes and leant her head forward on his chest. "Thank the maker," she said. The weight of her head was pleasant against him and he brought his hand up to stroke her hair. "It's all right, Una," he said, amazed that his voice was steady for a change. "What happened?"

He felt her body relax against him for a moment and she gave a sigh before pushing herself up to kneel beside him. He felt curiously numb and he noticed there was a green glow surrounding her hands and a warmth tingling through his body - healing magic. Wynne had been giving her lessons obviously. How nice to test it on him. He tried to sit up but she pushed him back with a firm hand. When did she get stronger than him?

"Alistair I'm so sorry. I..." she looked away for a second. "I've been so stupid - thinking it was finished." It was so uncharacteristic of her to be uncertain that he managed to push himself upright. He didn't seem to be injured anywhere that he could feel, and his head was clearing.

"You attacked me," he said.

She looked stricken. "I did," she said. "I'm so sorry.. I thought you were someone else.... it's that damn templar armour you picked up at the circle."

He looked down at his chest. The armour was significantly absent - he could see it lying in a pile a few feet away.

He'd hated putting the armour back on to be honest, but she'd told him not to be stupid - it was better than the chainmail he'd been carting around and it fit him too well to waste.

"I thought you liked my taste in clothes."

She laughed - a harsh laugh that nearly turned into a sob. "Oh... you...," she said, smiling a little now, enough for the dimple to be seen.

"There now. No harm done. Now why don't you tell me why you've dragged me out here and undressed me?"

She laughed again and he could hear the edge of hysteria in her voice. "Hey, I'm not complaining," he continued. She put her hand over her mouth - a curiously girlish gesture that was totally unlike her. She suddenly looked very, very young. "Una?" he said, getting more concerned. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, her hand still clamped over her mouth. He noticed she was rocking back and forth on her heels and he reached out to touch her shoulder. She stopped his hand with hers and then folded both of hers in her lap. The rocking stopped. "I... I'm all right," she said. "It's just that.... I'm not exactly sure what to tell you."

He grinned. "Why don't you start at the beginning," he said.

She sighed and looked away. "It's not an easy story," she said. "And I haven't really told it... to anyone really. Especially not anyone..."

"Half naked?"

The laugh was quicker this time, but it sounded more normal. "Male," she said, looking at him pointedly.

"Oh, so you noticed," he said. "I was beginning to wonder if that's why you'd ripped off half my clothes. Just checking were you?"

She smiled at him - and there was a warmth there that made his heart beat speed up.

Her shoulders dropped a little and she moved to sit crosslegged. He noticed she was wearing a simple shirt and breeches rather than her normal robes and wondered if that was what she slept in.

Stop the wondering Alistair, he thought to himself. You're not exactly well covered here.

"You of all people know how we mages come to the circle, usually," she said. He nodded. Most mages exhibited signs of magic just before puberty - often drastically but most of the time without too much violence. They were either reported to the chantry or templars sensed them and brought them to the circle.

"I assumed that was why you weren't so keen on them," he said. She nodded.

"When they came for me I was eleven," she said. "I lived in the slums of Denerim, but I was happy enough. My mother was a widow. I had a younger brother. We kept a shop in the slums - enough to keep us and a little extra. It was a good life." She sounded defensive. "A normal life.

"The templars who came for me seemed nice enough at first. They offered mother compensation for taking me - most templars do I've heard, and it was certainly going to be a better life for me than anything I could have hoped for had I stayed where I was."

"This was nine years ago?" Alistair asked. He'd been eleven as well. A year in the chantry by that stage - resentful still of Eamonn's supposed betrayal. Just beginning to learn the basic physical requirements of templarhood. He'd thrown himself into it as though it would wipe out his past, but no matter what he'd done it'd hadn't been good enough.

"Who were the templars who came for you?" he asked. He hadn't known many by that stage - the older scout templars were rarely at the chantry, mostly out on the road, but there was a chance she'd been picked up by men who had later tutored him. "I might have known them."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure you knew these two. Or of them at least. Come to think of it, you've probably even heard of me, although I know I was never mentioned directly by name."

He had a sudden flash of insight that made his blood run cold. "Not Artur and.."

"Renold. Yes. Artur and Renold found me in Denerim and took me to the circle tower."

The story was one of the Templar's dirtiest secrets. No one outside the upper eschelons of the templars were supposed to know about it, but of course the story had filtered down. When two Templars are excommunicated and struck from the rolls after their deaths - well people had to talk.

He wanted to take her hand suddenly, but realised it probably would be the worst thing he could possibly do. "What..." his voice failed him suddenly. "What did they do to you?"

"Oh, you can probably guess and I'd prefer not to go into it. It was what I did to them that made it news."

It had been news. To the chantry's credit, they hadn't tried to persecute the mage in question. Especially after the First Enchanter revealed she hadn't been the first to suffer. But Alistair had heard the stories from older initiates about what a mage could do to a templar if he wasn't on his guard all the time. Una's story had been one of the most gruesome.

"It was only when I was about to undergo the harrowing that I realised how close to being made tranquil I had been," she continued. "Despite what they did - my reaction was so extreme - and so uncontrolled that Irving thought I'd never be able to manage my power."

He looked at her hands. They were the same hands she'd always had, he still wanted to take them in his, gather her into his arms and hold her even. He wondered at himself that he could still think that.

"I've been.. wanting to tell you," she said. "I needed to tell you especially after I realised I... " She fell silent. She looked more relaxed now, but there was a vulnerability there that he'd never seen before. The urge to hold her was stronger than ever - it felt like a magnetic pull and he found himself leaning forward, but she abruptly stood up.

"Are you all right?" she asked, and her voice had reassumed it's air of competence and authority. "I healed the burns but you'll probably feel a little weak for a while. The spell Wynne taught me uses your own reserves rather than mine - I... don't have enough left at the moment..."

"Una..." he was still on the ground - his shirt was unbuttoned and his shoeless feet had socks with holes in them. But it didn't matter. On the pile of armour was the box with the rose in it.

She had turned to go. "Wait," he said. she turned back. He reached for the box and opened it, standing up and swaying a little as he did so.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked her. She looked up at him. He was taller than her - although sometimes he forgot it.

When she took the rose from him there was a slight tingle in his fingers. "Alistair, there's magic here," she said. "It's very strong actually. But it's not mage cast and I don't think it's templar either."

Alistair nodded. "There had to be a reason why it stayed preserved," he said. "Are you going to keep it?"

She looked up at him again and her eyes were suspiciously shiny. "Of course I am," she said. He smiled and his hand twitched. He really, really wanted to touch her, but he was paralyzed - not just by what she'd told him. Have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?

Suddenly she stepped forward and put her arms around him. Her head rested on his chest again and he dared to bring his arms around her. He felt light headed.

"Thank you Alistair," she said, and stepped back a little, although her arms stayed where they were. It would have been easy to kiss her, there and then, but there was a shout from the camp - Leliana's voice - and she turned to go.

He was left standing next to the river. His left sock was getting damp.

This was not what I expected. The king's son? Only a royal bastard would have kept it from me when he knew...

What did he know? Poor Alistair - he said himself he's led a sheltered life. But he would have had to be hiding under a rock to think this wouldn't affect us. Affect me.

I'm so angry with him it hurts to look at him. I find myself flirting with Zevran to annoy him - not really fair to the elf but I figure he can take it. Maker, he tried to kill me, he can at least let me have a little fun.

The worst thing is - I found his mother's amulet. In the Arl's study. I've got it in my pack. It's totally and utterly useless to me, but I know it would mean so much to him to have it back. And I'm too petty to give it to him because he wouldn't tell me about his thrice cursed royal father before I'd fallen in love with him.

And I know he's angry with me for not telling him about Jowan. I know he thinks I could have stopped him from getting away at the tower - stopped him from poisoning his foster-father - stopped him from teaching that stupid boy to become an abomination. Maker, all those people in Redcliffe - the dead awake and walking and half the time I couldn't think straight because I was angry at Alistair for being..

.. perfect.

The things we keep from each other, Alistair thought. They were on their way back to the mage's tower. It was a forced march, every second counted. He hoped the Arlessa could keep Connor from doing any more damage. They'd warned the village - most of the population had fled, but there was a small garrison remaining - knights and a few hardened villagers who had already lost so much that they refused to leave.

He looked at Una as they walked. The hardness was back in her glance. Since he'd given her the rose he'd felt closer to her than he'd ever felt towards anyone, they'd talked - he'd discovered more about her life in the tower and even told her some of his own experiences, at Redcliffe and the chantry. But his heritage had wiped that out. It was always the way.

"So you're the heir to the throne then," she'd said. Maker, what if she was right? Part of him knew she was right. Part of him knew why she'd stopped looking at him while they travelled, stopped seeking him out by the campfire at night. She was too intelligent not to know what it would mean if he became king. She was closing herself off.

She laughed at something Zevran said and he felt jealousy burn through him hotter than fire. Morrigan had been making his life a complete misery. Leliana was being suspiciously flirty and Shale... well the less he thought about Shale the more comfortable he felt. Watching us while we sleep. Andraste's ashes!

That night at camp he decided he had to talk to her. The words didn't mean much. Whenever he tried to say something serious he mucked it up but he knew the sentiment was there. He tried to think of it like a duel - there were still gaps in her armour, he knew it. He caught her looking at him sometimes when she thought he was busy with something. She couldn't stop herself from laughing sometimes at his jokes, even though he felt he was in poor form at the moment. And every now and then there was a connection - as though he was feeling the aftershocks of her attack.

"...Am I fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever feel the same way about me?"

She looked at her feet. There was a long pause. He remembered how she'd looked by the river, with her hand over her mouth. There was nothing girlish about her now. Finally she sighed and looked up. "I think I already do," she said.

It was perfectly right to kiss her this time. When their lips met he felt her soften against him. It was his first kiss but it didn't feel awkward and he was sorry when it ended.

"That was... that wasn't too soon was it?"

"Not really," she said, and she smiled when she said it. "I liked it."

"Good. I'll take that as a good sign." He looked into her eyes for a long moment. "Maker's breath but you're beautiful," he breathed. "Now lets get back to what we were doing lest I forget why we're here."

She stopped him from turning away. "Alistair," she said. "Wait."

He looked back at her, knowing that the perfect moment was about to become complicated. "It's the king thing, isn't it?" he said.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more private," she said.

"No, no," he said. "The others can't hear us here and to be honest I'd like to be able to see the expression on your face while we discuss this. It'll make me feel more like I have some sort of influence over your feelings."

She laughed a little, but her expression was still serious. "I'm a commoner," she said.

"So am I," he retorted. "And a bastard to boot. At least your parents were married to each other."

"And I'm a mage," she continued.

"Can't join you in that one, I'm afraid."

"Alistair, you're not stupid, despite what Morrigan says. You know what I'm getting at."

He sighed. "I hate this," he said, more to himself than to her. "Whenever anyone finds out about me the expectations start. If only my father hadn't been so fond of licking lampposts."

She did laugh then, and he dared to smile a little. He took her hands in his. "What can I say that will make this right?" he asked her. "I don't want to be king. I'm a grey warden - I was meant to be one, I believe that. Duncan believed it. I'm a bastard and I hate leading people and I'd be terrible at it. If they try to make me king I'll run away - hopefully with you but if necessary by myself."

"Alistair, you'd make a magnificent king," she said.

"Huh?"

"You don't know it yet, but you'd be amazing. I can't hold you back from something that will do so much good for Ferelden. I'm a grey warden too you know."

He looked down at his hands, enfolding hers. Usually at moments like these they seemed huge and floppy - he didn't know what to do with them. Having them enclosing hers seemed so... right. "That doesn't change things. The nobles would never accept me - they'd think I'd be a puppet of Eammon's - or Teagan's - or whoever else I happen to be talking to at the time. It's all right to be a bad king, you know," he smiled at her. "As long as they think it's just YOU. If they think there are people behind you then everyone gets all paranoid."

"But if it's a choice between you and Loghain..." Ah. There was the catch. Loghain.

"Why is it that every time I hear that name it's in connection with something I want to kill him for?" he said. She cocked her head. There was a pause.

"I'd have to do it," he said finally. "But seeing as I'm planning on killing him next time I see him we might not have to come to that."

She looked at him. "Might not?"

He sighed. "Is that good enough for now?" he asked her. "Might? We might not defeat the blight, you know. We might both be killed tomorrow from eating Sten's porridge. I might... might... have to become king. But there's always the chance that I might not. Is that enough.... for us?"

The corners of her mouth turned up a little. He could see a hint of her dimple. "I think it might be," she said. He brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead and cupped her cheek in his hand. She leaned forward and he kissed her again, and this time it went on for long enough for there to be some urgency to it. Her arms came around him and he pulled her closer.

When they came up for air they realised Leliana was watching them from the other side of the fire. Alistair coughed a little. "You know how we were going to go somewhere more private?" he said quietly. "That... possibly would have been a good idea."

She took his hand and led him away.

Afterwards he stroked her back as she lay on her stomach. Her eyes were closed but she wasn't sleeping. She looked contented - somehow, healed. "Are you all right?" he asked her. Funny - if it had been anyone else that question would have been directed at him. There had been a moment - just a moment - where her eyes had unfocused and she'd tensed up and he'd been terrified he'd hurt her, but it had passed and now he was... what?

She nodded. "I didn't think I would be," she said. Her eyes were still closed and he saw a tear leak out from under one lid. He caught it on a finger and brought it to his lips, then kissed her eyelids. She turned over to her back and looked up at him. "Thank you, Alistair."

"Mmm, I think I should be thanking you actually," he replied. She smiled.

"We were both broken," she said then, the smile fading. "I think we ... might... just be able to fix each other."

I'm still angry. But it's in the background. A "wait and see" box. He was right - we might not even survive - it's stupid not to grab what happiness we can while it's possible. I can be selfish enough to want this after everything that's happened.

It's only when I'm about to go to sleep that I find myself wanting to grab hold of him. Keep him where he is - next to me. Stop him from slipping away into a world that can't include me.

I've even thought about what would happen if he had to be king. Could we continue? Part of me knows he can marry politically. Father an heir. Stay in love with me. But what we have wouldn't be the same. I don't see myself dressing up and being a court mage - I'm a warden and I want to stay one. The Blight - if we defeat it - isn't the only thing we exist for. He's taught me that. So I wouldn't be there with him, not all the time. It would be a sometime thing and what I want more than anything is for it to be the only thing.

We have so little time.

So I can be selfish. We'll find the ashes and cure Eammon and HE can take the damn throne. Or find someone else who wants it. I'm not losing him.

And I suppose my decision is made. All I have to do is convince Alistair that it's the right one.

They'd taken a big risk, but it had paid off. The Arl was alive, so was the Arlessa (although she hadn't warmed to him, he noticed. Still thought he was trouble) and the boy would go to the mages circle, hopefully a little wiser. It had been an enormous risk, one that he knew he'd forced her to take. He didn't know if it was justified and his palms started to sweat whenever he thought of how many more people might have died in that two day delay.

But now the Arl was suggesting he be put forward as king. He looked at Una. It was precisely what they'd feared. Exactly the situation where he would have to take the throne. What happens if it's you or Loghain? The urge to kill the man was getting stronger and he didn't think it could possibly be stronger than it already was.

She wasn't looking at him. "You intend to put Alistair forward as king?" she'd said, and her voice was steady. He hated that she was composed about it. He wasn't.

They were talking again. He forced himself to listen.

"We still need to get to Orzammar," she told the Arl. "The mages and the Dalish are on board - but I've heard there's trouble there. It could be a complicated business getting their support."

Eammon sighed. "Dwarven politics," he said. "I wish you luck. It will be some time before I can gather the lords for the landsmeet. I wish we could move more quickly - the civil war is eating resources we need to face the blight. But we need to work with what we have."

She looked at him then. "I suppose we do," she said.

He was washing the pots from another of Sten's creations in a small stream by the side of the camp when he heard her approach. Something in him clamped up and he squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed harder. Why was it so difficult to put forward the face she put forward all the time?

"Alistair?"

He put the pot on the ground next to him and took a deep breath. "My love?"

He heard a little gasp and looked up. She was biting her bottom lip. It looked adorable.

She had something in her hands. He stood up. "What is it?" he asked. Apart from everything.

She smiled sadly. "I have something for you," she said, and held it out. He got up clumsily and took it from her. There was a tingle as he touched it - the remains of magic again, and he could sense the magic was hers. "This is.. this is my mother's amulet! But why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"

She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. Her fingers were entwined. "I found it in the Arl's study," she said. "The first time we went to Redcliffe. It was in pieces but I managed to... "

"You fixed it..." he traced the flowers on the design with one finger. There weren't any cracks at all. It was delicate, complex magic she'd worked. Very difficult. The sort of thing she said she couldn't do. Brute force, she'd told him. Fireballs. Electricity. Explosions. That's what I'm good at.

Dismemberment.

"Took me a little while," she said. "But I had some time on my hands. It helped stop me from..."

"From what?"

"Blowing you up," she said bluntly. "After you told me who your father was. I wasn't going to give it to you at all then. But I couldn't throw it away and I didn't want the pieces banging around in my pack so..."

"Una, this is..." words failed him. "I can't tell you how much it means to me." He put the chain over his head and tucked the amulet next to his heart. "I.."

"I'm glad you like it," she said. She turned to go. He suddenly felt like the biggest idiot in the universe.

"Wait!" he shouted. He took her shoulder and turned her around and kissed her. Her arms came up around him and she kissed him back. There was nothing else for a long time.

In the morning she was still sleeping when he woke. She had a smile on her lips and he gently traced the side of her face with his finger. She stirred, then woke. "Una," he said, "about what Eammon said..."

The smile didn't disappear. She shook her head. "There's still time," she said. "We don't need to talk about it. Let's get to Orzammar. When we're in Denerim.. then maybe we might be able to sort this out."

Maybe it was the horror of the broodmother that did it. Or touching the madness of Branka. Or just being faced with what will happen to us if we don't die before the taint gets us. There were too many things in that place that made my flesh crawl - too many things that showed me what it truly meant to fight the blight. Showed me how petty things like nobility and royalty really are.

Who cares who's on the throne? Truly I think if we could guarantee Loghain would fight the blight why not leave him where he is? If he hadn't killed Cailan and Duncan I think I'd even try to convince Alistair that the Landsmeet is a waste of time. We have our allies now - why not just fight the archdemon and leave the regent alone?

But Alistair would never let Duncan's death lie, and to be honest Loghain has hurt me indirectly just as much. I will enjoy watching him die when the time comes, and I didn't think I could ever enjoy death again.

We're on our way back to Denerim. What I said to Alistair when I gave him the amulet is no longer true. I will have to talk to him before we get there. I need to let him know how much.. I need him. He can't go into the landsmeet thinking I'll let him take the throne. There are other options, other nobles. I will convince one of them to take it.

I'll tell Eammon it's because of the blight. I'll tell the others it's because of the blight as well - we need Alistair - there are only two grey wardens in Ferelden and you can't expect the KING to face an archdemon - what if he gets squished? We'll be right back where we started and it's a very real possibility. Someone will need to rule Ferelden if he dies.

But I will not let him die.

I'll tell him the truth, though. And hope the backbone he's started to develop since he met his sister is enough to take what he deserves for a change.

The others were avoiding them. Alistair couldn't really blame them. He'd had some experience of what the taint did before Orzammar - Horald had been taken by it swiftly and Alistair had been one of the ones to look after him. But he'd never seen what happened to the women.

Suddenly it made more sense - that there were so few women in the wardens. If that was one of the possibilities for Una... Maker he hoped they both died before that could happen.

He stirred the stew with more vigour than necessary. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice that she was standing behind him until he felt a hand his shoulder.

"Alistair we need to talk. Can you leave that for a minute?"

"Traditional pea and lamb stew?" Alistair said. "I can leave it for a day." He turned to her, smiling. Noticed she wasn't. "Ah. Should we go somewhere private?"

She nodded.

They moved out of the range of the campfire to the hill where Sten was standing watch. She sat on the slope and stared back towards the camp. Her eyes were unreadable, her expression serious. He sat beside her.

"I know I said we didn't need to talk about this until Denerim," she began. "But Orzammar has... changed things for me."

He was suddenly frightened. "Changed?"

"I suppose I didn't really think what the blight meant before now. The darkspawn - well they're enemies - they can be fought. Even the archdemon is just... well a big beasty to be honest. It's got a head, it can be cut off. But the taint..."

He knew exactly what she meant. "The taint."

"It's more horrible than anything I've ever seen. Anything I've ever encountered, and I've encountered some pretty horrible things. And it's inside me," she looked at him. "I can feel it - more so since .. Hespith. As though I can feel it trying to change me."

He nodded. "I understand."

She took a breath. "Politics doesn't matter," she said. "What matters is the blight. We need to stop it. We need to defeat the archdemon and then.."

"What?"

"Then we need to find out what causes it. And stop it. We need to make sure that what happened to Hespith and the others never happens again. This isn't a natural thing. The Maker didn't wish it on us for our sins - no one has ever sinned enough to deserve that."

Alistair suddenly loved her more than ever. She'd articulated exactly what he'd been feeling - what he'd felt ever since he'd seen his first darkspawn. It wasn't enough to simply fight the blight when it came. They needed to find out why it came at all.

She got up and knelt in front of him. "I started out thinking this conversation would go differently," she said, and she took his hands in hers. "I was going to tell you that I love you, and that I wasn't going to let you become king and leave me.." he started to protest but she put up her hand "no matter what. I was going to tell you to let Loghain have the damn throne. For my reasons - because I wanted you to stay with me. But that's not the only reason I don't want you to become king. Granted, it's the main one.. but.."

He opened his mouth to say something but she interrupted him again. "Sorry, this is my rant. You can have yours in a minute." She took a deep breath.

"I will find a way for you not to be king," she said. "Because I need you to come with me and fight the blight. Not just because I love you, but because you're a grey warden and..... you're my conscience. If it hadn't been for you I would have let the Arlessa die to save Connor and I would have felt justified in that decision, because it was the lesser of two evils. But that's just another way of letting the taint take control. Every time I make a decision, you're there to remind me that there is good worth saving. I would have.. done so many horrible things if you hadn't been there to stop me.

Ferelden is a great nation," she continued. "But it's had some truly dreadful kings. There are lots of things that are wrong with it that I've no doubt you could go a long way towards fixing. But the biggest thing wrong with it is the taint and the darkspawn and the blight. People can't be expected to be decent and noble to each other when they're under that sort of threat. We're wardens, it's our responsibility to take that threat away. When that's done - THEN we can worry about how to get the nobles' heads out of their arses, or the rights of the elves, or the Tevinter bloody Imperium. At the moment I don't give a toss about them because they're not important."

He gaped at her. There had been.. something he wanted to say. He couldn't remember what it was.

She raised her eyebrows and watched him. "Well?" she said.

He swallowed. "Um.." he said. "I love you too?"

She threw herself on top of him, laughing. He wrapped his arms around her and laughed with her, suddenly feeling light - relieved of a burden he'd been carrying since his birth.

Someone cleared their throat. A large someone. "You are both disgusting," Sten said. "And you're distracting me from my watch. If you have no cookies, leave."

Suitably chastened, they made their way back to camp. He took her hand as they walked. "How precisely do you intend to break the news to Eammon?" he said. "He won't be pleased his pet king isn't going to play the game."

"I'm very charming when I need to be," she replied. "And I can always blow him up if I need to."

Alistair grinned. Then something occurred to him and he stopped. "You weren't serious when you said... that Loghain could keep the throne?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Actually I was," she said. He pressed his lips together. "Don't look like that," she continued. "He's a strong leader, and we need a strong leader at the moment."

"Una, this is not an option." He let go of her hand. "I mean it. If I have to be king to stop that bastard I will."

"Even if it means losing me?" Her voice hadn't changed, there was no threat in it. It sounded almost playful.

"Maker, Una - you know I don't ever want to lose you. I would face the entire darkspawn horde for you by myself. I'd eat Sten's cooking for a month. But I won't let Loghain live."

She did the last thing he expected. She smiled. "If that's your price, my prince," she said. "I'll kill him myself. And I'll do it my own special, signature way."

"Do I get to watch?"

"I'm counting on it."

"Now you're turning me on."

And the solution has landed in my lap like a large, half eaten sausage. Anora wants the throne. She admits her father is mad. She'll support us in the landsmeet. The Maker was listening to me. Maybe Leliana is some sort of prophet and she's managed to intervene for me. I can't believe it's going to be so easy.

Alistair seems relieved as well, although I know he doesn't like Anora. At least she doesn't look like her father - I think he would have had trouble with that. As it is we go to the landsmeet tomorrow with enough support to pull this off.

Eammon's got us housed in separate rooms. It feels strange to be completely alone for a change. Strange to be in a bed rather than on a bedroll, warm and safe rather than with one side constantly cold from the ground. Alistair had been acting as my bedwarmer and I miss him tonight, but part of me feels like this time is special.

We'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon - no matter what happens at the landsmeet. The darkspawn are massing near Redcliffe and we'll have to face them there. I'm not frightened, at least not for me.

She didn't tell Eammon what she decided. Alistair thought that was probably a mistake - but Eammon liked Anora even less than he did if that was possible and he supposed it made sense to let him think he was getting what he wanted.

They walked in silence. She was a solid presence beside him and he was grateful for that, and for the quiet presence of Wynne behind him. She'd picked the party well for today - Morrigan was preternaturally aware of potential treachery and Wynne's healing magic would hopefully stop any tragedies should the landsmeet become violent. Oh, and Una could cast a fireball to cover their escape. It felt odd that he should feel so safe surrounded by three mages. Any other templar would be twitching and reaching for his sword.

I suppose I never was one, he thought. Just a warden now. Always a warden.

Seeing Loghain was worse than he'd thought. It took a lot of effort not to launch himself at the man. Una's voice was the calm voice of reason and he could feel the landsmeet swaying towards their point of view. Slavery in the alienage. Torture. He remembered Una's face when she'd seen the bodies in Howe's dungeon. There was no way she'd let him keep the throne now.

The proceedings were dull, although he admired some of Loghain's reasons. You could see why people followed the man - he was a great leader. But Cauthrien had listened to them and if she could be swayed the rest of them would follow.

Part of him had known there would be a duel. Part of him had been happy that Sten and Oghren had been left at the Arl's estate, because there was no way Wynne or Morrigan would be the one to fight him. Una - maybe she would but she was always wary of the possibility of hurting others with her magic. She was only really happy when the rest of the party were behind her. Although he knew she had no love for the nobility he didn't think she wanted to set them all on fire while she killed Loghain.

"Alistair will be my champion."

His eyes snapped open and he focused on the man who had killed Duncan. Thank you, Una, he thought. He would have his chance to fight. They squared off. He felt a hand on his arm just before the herald announced the start of the duel.

"If you get yourself killed here," she hissed at him "I will come into the fade and rip your disembodied spirit to shreds."

He turned his head and kissed her cheek. "My lady," he said. "I love you."

She smiled. "Kill him well, Alistair."

He lowered Cailan's helm over his head and drew his sword.

Alistair had duelled often in the chantry - it was part of his training especially in the later years. But he'd never been particularly good at it. Even Duncan had admitted that he wasn't the best the revered mother had to offer. But the months of fighting and travelling had hardened him, and his mind was sharp and aware.

Loghain was older than Alistair by more than twenty years. He was slower and he was slightly taller with longer reach. Ailstair watched his opponent carefully, sizing him up, weighing his options. Starfang rested easily in his hand and Duncan's shield felt like it was made for him. He hadn't admitted it to himself at the time, but the last few weeks his morning exercises had all been focused on this sort of combat. In the hope that he would get this opportunity.

They circled, warily for a few minutes. Loghain had deep, dark circles under his eyes. Paranoia doesn't agree with him, Alistair thought.

The first few swings were experimental. Loghain's hand was steady and he was more skilled than any opponent Alistair had ever faced. But he was slow, and as each swing became more violent and they tested each other more sorely, Alistair realised he was unsure of himself. The long months of strain had taken their toll on more than Loghain's mind. He was physically exhausted, mentally drained. Part of him was already defeated.

At the end, Loghain knelt before him. "Do you yield?" the herald asked.

Loghain shook his head. The older man looked up at Alistair and raised an eyebrow. "You have something of Maric in you after all," he said softly.

"Forget Maric," Alistair said. "This is for Duncan." Starfang raised almost by itself and plunged down as Alistair also sunk to one knee. Blood splashed. Loghain was dead. His body flopped forward onto Alistair, almost like an embrace.

"So it is decided," said Eammon. "Alistair will take his father's throne."

Alistair stood up and pulled Starfang free from Loghain's corpse. "No," he said. "I'm sorry Eammon. But I won't."

Anora leapt forward. "He abdicates in favour of me!"

Eammon looked betrayed. "I hardly think you are the one to arbitrate this decision Anora. Warden? Can you settle this?"

Una stepped forward. "I can settle this," she said. "Anora will be queen," she said. There was a stunned silence. The nobles had heard her arguments - seen Alistair beside her - most of them had talked to Eammon in the days and months before the landsmeet. They had all expected Alistair to be put forward as king. Even Anora looked shocked - despite Una's promises to her Devious, Alistair thought. She expected to be betrayed. I hope it serves the kingdom well and doesn't turn into paranoia like her father's.

Finally Bann Teagan started to clap, slowly. The clap spread like a flame until the landsmeet picked up on it and started to cheer. Alistair figured they were mostly relieved. Although they had been willing to entertain putting him on the throne, there was something about bastards inheriting that made nobility nervous. Too many of them running about I suppose, he thought.

Eammon's lips pressed together in anger. Alistair still loved his foster father, but the look was familiar. It was the same look he'd had the day the Arlessa had insisted he be packed off to a monastery. Some of the old anger flared in his chest. Eammon thought he was shirking his responsibility.

Then he remembered that Una had found the pieces of his mother's amulet in Eammon's study. How long had the Arl had them? Was he planning on giving them back to him?

Back at the Arl's estate, they were both called into his quarters.

"Would either of you mind explaining to me why you just did what you did?" he said. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Una sighed. "I'm sorry Eammon," she said. Alistair noticed she never used titles. It was a mage thing, and it irritated most of the nobility they'd met. Eammon was above that though. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd object. Anora approached me before the landsmeet - convinced me she would be a better choice for the throne."

"I warned you about her," Eammon continued. "I told you she was trouble. She's like her father - she wants power for power's sake."

"Who doesn't?" Una said. "For what it's worth, I agree with you about her. There's no doubt Alistair would have made a.... better king. But that's not the issue here."

Eammon looked puzzled. "As far as I can see the issue is plain. You two have your own reasons for not wanting Alistair to be king, and Ferelden can go to the dark city as long as you get what you want!"

Alistair stepped forward "Eammon," he said. "You go too far."

Una held up her hand. "It's all right Alistair," she said. "I can understand why he's upset."

The Arl cocked an eyebrow at her. "Oh, you can, can you?"

"We've been so caught up in what happens to Ferelden's royalty," she spat the last word out. "Eammon, you lost nearly half of the population of Redcliffe because Loghain wanted the throne - your son and your wife were nearly killed. And the blight never touched it! Alistair is a grey warden - one of only three left in Ferelden. I made the decision.." she put her hand on her chest to add emphasis "I did, that he couldn't be made king. His destiny lies with us. With the wardens. I need his help against the blight..."

"There's no reason why he couldn't continue..."

"There's EVERY reason!" Una shouted. He'd never heard her shout before. "Are you telling me to take the KING into battle to face an archdemon? Did you learn nothing from Cailan's stupid sacrifice? When will you people realise that battle glory is the LAST thing a king needs to rule a population? Why are we so fixated on how well someone can swing a sword? As a WARDEN Alistair can face the blight without having to worry about... wheat prices or foreign treaties, or which colour doublet he needs to wear to the palace ball. I don't need a king next to me when I fight the archdemon. A king would be worse than useless because I'd be obliged to try to protect him. I don't need that while I'm fighting darkspawn. And my options are severely limited here. Before Loghain's treachery I had a hundred men to choose from, to back me up in battle. But his actions - his politically motivated actions meant the only choice for warden back up I have happens to have royal blood."

Eammon stood silent for a long moment. Una was breathing heavily and he found himself quite distracted by it. Strange the thoughts that come into your head..

"I can see you have your reasons for what you did," Eammon said finally. "I don't happen to agree with them. But the deed is done now. Ferelden will pay the price."

"You sanctimonious..." Alistair grabbed her arm before she decided to fireball the poor man.

"The blight is what's important here, Eammon," he said. "Una made that clear to me. For what it's worth I was willing to take the throne. But Una convinced me otherwise. Ferelden will stand with Anora as queen. I don't happen to like her much, but there aren't many nobles that I do like, and none of them like me.." Eammon opened his mouth but Alistair kept going.

"There's a reason why we give up our names and our titles when we become wardens. I never really understood it before now, but I think if the rest of the wardens were here with us they would add their voice to Una's. I can't be king. Anora wants to be queen. You'll just have to keep your eye on her."

Eammon sighed. "I'm old, Alistair."

"Don't tell me you weren't planning on keeping an eye on me if I'd been king," he said. "I won't believe you."

"Anora will be.. difficult."

Alistair laughed, but there was an edge of bitterness to it. Loghain was right, he thought. Eammon did want a puppet . "I would have been too," he said.

The Arl started to smile. "I suppose so. Certainly more difficult than I'd ever thought. Well. The two of you had better defeat this blight then."

He nodded. Some of the tension had left Una's body, but she was still angry, he could sense it. "We'll leave as soon as possible," he said.

At Redcliffe they were hit with blow after blow of bad news. He should have expected it. Of course the darkspawn were headed for Denerim - really why had they ever thought the archdemon would be satisfied with Redcliffe? It was a small town - the potential for destruction had.. already been realised. The army would have to make a forced march. They would have to leave tomorrow.

It was the finality of it all that hit him. But there was more to come.

"We have warden business to discuss," Riordan had said. Warden business. Ominous, he thought.

Again, separate rooms. He sighed. The last night before a battle and he wasn't going to.... probably for the best - he needed his strength and Una had been particularly energetic lately. He carefully removed his armour and dressed in a simple shirt and leggings before making his way to Riordan's room.

He didn't go in. He decided to wait for her. She arrived a few minutes later - dressed in ....

"What's that?" he squeaked.

She laughed and tweaked his nose. "A dress," she said. "The Arl was very generous with his wife's wardrobe."

Alistair swallowed. "I never saw Isolde wearing that."

She grinned. "Possibly Eammon kept it for special occasions?"

He coughed.

"Come on," he said. "Let's see what Riordan wants."

....."Then I volunteer to take this sacrifice," he thought he heard her say. Riordan was quick to intervene and he could have kissed the man, but there was a steel in her voice and he really wanted to talk to her...

"I'll come to your room in a bit," she whispered to him as they parted at Riordan's door. The other warden still didn't know about the two of them. It was probably for the best that he didn't, as Alistair didn't think what they were doing was strictly part of the warden code. What's wrong with fraternizing?

Morrigan was outside Una's room on his way to his own. What did she want? Una raised an eyebrow at him and ducked inside.

He waited. Tried to read a book. Couldn't get interested. Took out his armour - but it was perfectly polished - prepared for the battle ahead. Finally he gave up and started pacing. She was taking a very, very long time. When the knock at the door came he opened it himself.

She closed the door behind her slowly and leaned on it.

"Alistair, we need to talk," she said.

"That's never a good way to start a conversation," he replied. "But I agree. What do you think you're doing, volunteering to sacrifice yourself like that? Weren't you the one who said..."

"Not about that."

"Oh?"

"Well, yes actually. About that. What if I told you neither of us had to die tomorrow?"

"Neither of us does. Riordan's offer..."

"Oh, I know what Riordan's offered. But there's a chance he won't be able to pull it off. He's still recovering from what Howe did to him - he's older than us - quite frankly, he's just not as good as we are. There are too many variables."

Alistair nodded. He'd thought exactly the same thing. "So you're telling me there's another option?"

She took a deep breath. "You're not going to like it."

"If you're going to suggest the option is you killing the archdemon you can stop that idea before it even gets out of your mouth."

She shook her head. There was a long pause. Finally she took a deep breath.

"I love you, you know that don't you?"

He wanted to shake her. "Can you make it sound more ominous? Just tell me already!"

"You need to have sex with Morrigan. As part of a magic ritual. Tonight."

Of all the things she could have said, that was the last - absolutely the last he would have expected.

"What?"

"That's what she came to tell me. She's got a way out - a way for the dragon's soul to be... contained. We'll still end the blight, but neither of us will have to die."

His mind had gone completely blank. A little spark of awareness prompted him to ask: "why does that involve sex?"

She looked, if possible, even more uncomfortable. "She's going to conceive a child. It will bear the taint and if we take her with us...."

"Woah, woah, hold it. Stop right there, we need to go back a few steps. A child? You want me to father a child with Morrigan? Impregnate her in some magic sex rite?"

"I told you you wouldn't like it."

"Understatement of the age. Be killed by an archdemon or have sex with Morrigan. How do you make that sort of choice?"

She smiled a little.

He paced back and forth for a minute. "Even if I entertained the thought of this - and I'm not saying I am - is this really what you want? Is it?" he sat in a chair next to the bed - the bed... looked very uninviting at the moment.

"Alistair, when I told you I'd do anything to stop you from becoming king, I meant it. But it's not the only thing I'd do it for," she knelt in front of him and put her hands on his knees. "I don't like the idea of you... and her... but she's made it very clear it's not some sort of scheme to steal you or... have a royal child. She doesn't like you. She doesn't even like me much. But this is what she came with us for. And despite the possible consequences..."

"I don't know if I even can, Una. She's a little intimidating."

Her hands tightened. "You might just have to lie back and think of Anora," she said. He snorted. "Look, I..." she closed her eyes tight for a second. "I fought so hard to stop you from taking the throne. I've poured my heart into learning everything I could from Wynne so I could heal you in battle. I've tried everything short of getting stuck by a darkspawn sword somewhere it won't heal to keep you safe. This is... really a small price to pay for your life."

A small price, he thought. It was a betrayal. It would feel like one - he knew that. But... the archdemon had to be killed, and in order for that to happen one of them had to die. Everything they'd talked about - giving up the throne, finding the cause of the taint, rebuilding the wardens - they'd talked about doing it together. She would try to make the sacrifice herself - he knew that. And he wouldn't be able to let her. But which was worse, really? If he died to protect her she'd be left alone and she'd already made it clear that wasn't an option. If she died to protect him...

No. There were some things worth sacrificing, and this wasn't one of them. He stroked her cheek. "I'll do it," he said. "But not to save my life." She leaned her head on his hand. "To save yours."

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"Let's go," he said. "I need to get this over with before I... change my mind."

The act itself was mercifully brief. He actually did close his eyes - mainly because there was a chance he would die tomorrow and the last thing he wanted to have as his final image was a naked Morrigan. She left as soon as it was over and he had to stop himself from rushing to the basin to wash himself. He splashed water on his face and leaned forward, studying himself in the mirror. He hadn't changed. He was still himself. Why did he feel sick?

He wanted - very badly - to go to Una's room. But it felt wrong to go to her now, after what he'd done. Despite everything he felt guilty - she'd wanted this, but it didn't make it any easier.

There was a knock at the door. He was still naked. Hastily he pulled his breeches on and went to open it.

She was biting her lip again.

"I saw Morrigan leave," she said. "And I can't sleep." He leaned against the door, and looked at her. She'd changed into her sleeping clothes - the dress was nowhere in evidence. Her hair was loose - he'd rarely seen it loose - she even slept with it braided. It framed her face.... beautifully. He couldn't believe he used to find her eyes frightening - right now they were so full of need that he felt his voice catch.

"Thank the Maker you came," he said. She stepped forward and he gathered her into his arms.

Somehow it didn't feel real - rushing through the streets of Denerim, climbing Fort Drakon. We work so well together now - all of us. Leliana and Morrigan and Alistair and me. Sten and Oghren and Zevran and Shale - back at the gate. Poor little Sorcha - she didn't want to be left behind but it was safer there. I suspect Sten gives her cookies. I must find out where he gets them - they're curiously edible so he certainly doesn't cook them himself.

Part of me had wanted to leave Alistair there as well - just in case the ritual wasn't the protection Morrigan said it was. But there was steel in his eyes when I was making my choice and I know he would have followed me any way. Better to have him as part of the team.

Facing the dragon was.... too much to encompass. He... it... was beautiful in it's own way - but the taint poured off it like water and we felt nauseous just looking at it. But when all was said and done it was just a beasty - an overgrown deeprunner.

I killed it with Duncan's sword. Alistair gave it to me near the end - when he saw that I needed something other than my staff. I've never been particularly strong, but I could feel the strength of the others behind me in this - and by that stage the archdemon was pathetically weak. It struggled - tried to throw me off - but it made no difference.

I could feel it die. The light that surrounded me - Alistair's voice calling my name - that was all secondary. While the sword was implanted in it's head I FELT the old god depart. And it gave me some hope, because despite everything the soul that departed was NOT tainted. The taint came from the body that enclosed it - from the darkspawn around us - not from the soul itself. Maybe Morrigan's child wouldn't be the evil I feared.

And it was done. The blight is over and we're on our way to Amaranthine to start rebuilding the order. I worry, sometimes, about Morrigan, but it's a worry that I can deal with. The child will be born in nine months and something tells me I will meet it again. But we'll deal with that when the time comes.

I suppose I've compromised. Convincing Alistair to go through with the ritual made my earlier arguments about why he shouldn't be king sound hollow and selfish. But we all have one thing we won't give up - and mine is Alistair. I'm more selfish than him - he was willing to take the throne even though it would mean losing me.

He's always been the better person. Always will be.

The other wardens have asked questions about why we're both alive and Alistair is uncomfortable with answering them. They've directed their letters to him - they still think he's the senior warden and I've done nothing to discourage them in that belief. Perhaps when the whole story is known they'll cast us out. I don't care. We have a purpose now - and the promise of help from others.

After Amaranthine we'll be travelling to Orzammar, to talk with the legion of the dead, to collect samples of the blight's corruption. Wynne and Irving have promised to help me analyze them. I wonder if Hespith is still alive - if we can convince her to leave with us. The broodmother is a constant image in my dreams - if I can find a way to prevent that..

Thirty years, give or take. That's longer than a lot of people get. If the taint starts to show in Alistair first I'm going with him to Orzammar. He doesn't know that yet. But there's a part of me that's hoping by that time we'll have discovered what we're after - and I'm surprised at myself for thinking that way. I never used to be so optimistic.

There is a way to reverse the taint. I'm sure of it. Although being a warden is important to me, what Riordan said was right. Duncan knew it as well. There is something ugly about sacrificing a few for the sake of the many.

As for Alistair - he watches me write now. I used to think I had to hide this from him - that he'd want to read it or... I don't know really. Irving used to read all the journals - that's what the older initiates used to say. I believed it then - and part of me still thinks he did read some - probably mine, maybe Jowan's. But it doesn't matter any more. We know each other better than we did. We know ourselves better. And we'll be staying together - and amidst everything else we're trying to do I find that this is the one thing that matters.