A/N: Dragon Age and its lovely characters don't belong to me. No copyright infringement intended.
"Beyond the Looking Glass"
The weak winter sun shone high in the blue-gray sky over Denerim. The town square bustled with activity as children played in the street and merchants shouted for customers. Illyria found it hard to believe that this place was utterly destroyed and crawling with darkspawn only two years prior. Absently scratching behind Satsuma's ears, she waited patiently in the marketplace, watching her husband knock on the door to his sister's house. Alistair exchanged a few awkward pleasantries with Goldanna before handing her a small coin purse. Without a word or a smile, she nodded and disappeared into the house again. He stared at the closed door for a moment before walking back to where Illyria stood.
"Are you okay?" she asked, touching his elbow gently.
Alistair shrugged. "She actually talked to me this time. Remembered my name, even. I think we're making progress," he replied with a note of sarcasm.
Illyria got onto her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "It's a start, emma lath."
He sighed. "I know I should probably just give up. But every time we come here, I feel… I don't know. Obligated."
She nodded. "You don't have to explain to me, Alistair. I understand." She peeked into their own coin purse and frowned. "But we may be sleeping under the stars tonight. I think you gave her our last two sovereigns."
He shook his head and pointed. "They put new postings up on the Chanter's Board today!" He pulled her along to the Chantry just around the corner. "We're sure to get at least enough for a night's stay at the Gnawed Noble."
Illyria perused the postings. "Most of these will take us the whole day, Alistair. Look, this guy's still looking for someone to find his sextant. What's a sextant anyway?"
"Not all of them are wild goose chases, Lyri," Alistair said, taking one of the postings from the Board. "Here, the templars need help with a group of apostates just past the Alienage. That sounds easy enough for the Hero of Ferelden and a Grey Warden." Satsuma wagged his tail and gave a happy bark. "And a dog," Alistair added.
She smiled. "You'd think the Hero of Ferelden could get a free room."
"No gratitude these days, right?" he said, smiling back. He waved the posting in her face. "So? What do you think?"
She pushed his hand away from her and laughed. "You really don't want to camp out tonight, do you?"
"You Dalish may be used to sleeping on the ground, but some of us have higher standards. Some of us slept in stables."
"Oh, all right," Illyria relented. She stamped their seal on the posting and put it back on the board. "And for the record, we slept on cots or in the aravels, not on the ground."
Alistair grinned. "I know, I know."
They crossed the square and strolled through the Alienage. Though some of the elves were wary of Alistair, others approached them happily, recognizing them as the Wardens who saved their home two years ago. The reconstruction was slower here than in the rest of the city, as resources available to the elves were still limited. Even still, most of the homes had been rebuilt, and the bridge the archdemon had destroyed was almost completely repaired.
They arrived at the building the Chanter had marked on their map. The building was old and dirty, but appeared to have been untouched by the destruction of the Battle of Denerim. Alistair and Illyria each drew their swords as they approached the door.
"You think we should knock?" Alistair said with a wink.
She tossed him his helmet, smiling as she put on her own. "Yes, let's."
They reared back and crashed through the door, shards of wood flying everywhere. The startled mages jumped up from their benches around the large meeting hall. Bolts of energy flew through the air in every direction. Alistair charged forward, knocking down two of the mages with his shield. Illyria covered his flank, easily slicing through several men with her greatsword. Satsuma ran past them, tackling a mage and mauling him.
Alistair purged the area of magic, taking down the protective spells the apostates put up around them. He nodded to his wife, who surged forward on light feet and swept her sword in a giant arc. The mages fell backward by the force of the swing, and Alistair came up in Illyria's wake, finishing them off. He raised his shield suddenly, pulling her close to him to protect them both from the rain of fire that poured down on top of them.
"Thanks!" she yelled over the roar of the flames.
He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Sure, don't mention it!"
There were few apostates left now. Two of them tried to flee, but the Wardens blocked them from the only exit. Illyria easily picked them off as they tried to blast past them. After a moment's concentration, Alistair released a Holy Smite upon the remaining apostates and they crumpled before them.
One of the mages was not yet unconscious, his lips moving frantically. He drew a knife and plunged it into his hand, drawing on the blood's power. A column of energy burst forth from his hands.
Still too far to reach the blood mage, Illyria pushed her husband as hard as she could. He toppled away from her, and the column slammed into her, surrounding her in humming waves of blue light.
Illyria's skin burned white hot, and she felt herself dissipating like smoke in the wind. She cried out, but no voice escaped her lips. The last thing she saw and heard was Alistair screaming her name.
"Lyri!" Alistair watched in horror as the spell consumed her. Her body faded into nothing, her face contorted in an expression of terrible pain. "Lyri!"
She was gone.
Alistair was at his feet in an instant. He ran to the blood mage and pulled him up roughly by the collar. "What did you do to her?" he demanded to know. "Bring her back!" Satsuma came up behind him, growling menacingly.
The mage spat blood in Alistair's face and grinned. "I can't."
"Can't, or won't?" Alistair raised the blade of his sword and touched it against the mage's throat.
"Take your pick," the mage replied. "I'm dying anyway. She's not coming back."
Panic raged within Alistair's mind. "Is she dead?"
The apostate's eyes were slowly closing, the evil grin plastered on his face.
Alistair shook him. "Answer me! Is she dead?"
"She no longer exists in this world," he answered, blood gurgling up his throat. With that, he was dead.
Alistair dropped the mage to the floor and fell to his knees. He stared numbly at the bodies of the dead mages scattered around the room, unable to feel anything, his world having shattered around him in a matter of minutes.