6

AN: I found when playing Dragon Age:Origins, that I really enjoyed the character of Teagan. He swiftly became my favorite NPC in the game. I always felt there were no judgments on the Warden coming from him, a rare thing among his peers, the nobility, regardless of the Warden's origins.

I like to describe him as 'old enough to be responsible and mature, but young enough to be fun!'

My thanks go to Cadsuane for beta reading this tale, and providing some much needed reining in of my weirder moments. Her patience and gracious attitude have made working with her a blessing.

I'd also like to thank Xanderpein for his perspective on the male mentality. Some of Teagan's attitudes come from him as well.

Both of these people have excellent fics here and I highly recommend them!

Finally, I'd like to thank Bioware for their wonderful world and characters. Without this setting and the wonderful people they have created to fill it, I never would have been inspired to tell this tale. All rights and properties to the world of Dragon Age belong to them.

Threshold

Chapter One

Post Coronation

The cheering crowds outside heralded the dawn of a new age as the Blight that had barely begun had been defeated. Neria stood to the side watching her friends gathered in a knot amongst well wishers. Leliana, the bard, loved being the center of attention of a cluster of nobles, regaling them with tales of their exploits. Doubtless she would find a new patron among their number. Wynne and Shale had their heads together and Neria knew they were planning on going to Tevinter again to try to find a way for Shale to be restored to dwarf form. She doubted such could be accomplished, but as skilled as she was, she knew there was much she still didn't know about magic. Sten stood near a table grumbling about the lack of cake (he had been promised cake). Her mabari, Muffin, sat at Sten's feet hoping for the occasional scrap to be dropped his way. Oghren and Teagan were joking and laughing about Oghren's ability to imbibe everything and anything and she thought she might have heard…pickle juice? Her mentor, Irving sat nearby watching the festivities with an almost paternal pride in his young apprentice.

Zevran saw her standing to one side and walked over to her, one finger dragging his collar away from his throat for the hundredth time. His smile was warm and casual, though she knew him well enough to know this was the last place he wanted to be.

"I'll be glad when this pomp and ceremony is over, won't you? This would be the perfect opportunity for an assassination attempt." he said. "So I believe I heard you say you would be traveling? Going anywhere in particular?"

"I don't know really. Alistair and I are the last two Wardens in Ferelden. I should do something about that, but I don't want to go to Amaranthine. I don't want to think for a while." She pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers, trying to stave off the headache that had been pounding in her head since early morning.

He nodded. "Understandable. You have had to think for all of us for a while now. Let the Orlesians rebuild the order. You should come with me to Par Vollen. It is a pleasant place I hear…"

She chuckled. "Your oath is done, my friend. You are free now."

A momentary flash of disappointment crossed his eyes then was quickly hidden. Neria got the feeling he had always hoped for a little something more from her, but he could never entice her. But despite whatever disappointment he might have felt, Zevran was pragmatic about the vagaries of life.

"Oh, I'm sure the Crows will come after me again. They aren't the type to just let go like that. And if we should cross paths, and I am dragging a string of them behind me, do me a favor and kill them for me, eh? You wouldn't hold a little bloodbath against me would you?"

"A little bloodbath sounds good right about now. This affair is so boring," she giggled at last and he smiled.

"See this is why I like you, always up for a little fun."

She hugged him then and he returned it warmly.

"I'll miss you most of all," she whispered into his ear.

"I never knew what it was to have a real friend before. It was a lucky day for me that I took that contract."

Neria glanced over his shoulder to see Alistair watching as the woman he loved hugged the handsome elf and couldn't quite hide the quick expression of jealousy. She knew he wanted to be the one to hold her and congratulate her, but this damn formal affair kept him at arms' length. More than that stayed his hand though.

He looked so good in the gold ceremonial armor, his hair neatly trimmed and shaved. In a way she kind of missed the scruffier Alistair on the road. He had been hers then. Now he belonged to all of Ferelden. Might as well get it over with, she thought. Squaring her shoulders she walked up the steps to him.

"I'm glad you're all right," he said, his eyes, those damn eyes, looking at her the way that made her knees go limp and her stomach do crazy flutters. "I was so scared I would lose you."

"Thanks to Morrigan," she murmured softly.

"Yes, she must have been telling the truth about, you know, the ritual. I understand she just left, straight from the battle, not a word."

"That's how she wanted it."

"I'm just worried about what this ritual is going to cost in the long run. The Orlesian Wardens are already asking questions. What should I tell them?"

She chuckled mirthlessly. "Tell them the truth?"

"That they were wrong? Oh, I can see that now. 'All you need is a maleficar willing to have your demon baby…who knew?' No, I think I'll just shrug and look stupid, it's a talent."

There was an awkward pause then. There had been a lot of those in the weeks since the Landsmeet. Once he could fill the emptiness between them with his chatter, but that had been in short supply since they had severed their relationship.

"Arl Eamon says he'll be staying for a time to help you get settled into…you know…" she said, trying to fill the void.

"I wish you were staying, too, but I understand why you can't. Maker, this is going to be difficult. I never wanted this you know. I'd give anything to be back on the road with you."

She heard both the words he spoke and the ones left unspoken and nodded.

"Me, too, but we both agreed this is best. Ferelden needed a king of the Theirin bloodline to unite it after the civil war and the Blight tore it apart. Mages have no place in politics. 'Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him.' I get it. I don't like it but I get it."

He looked at her with such earnestness her resolve weakened and she wanted to just hug him, take everything back and run away with him again.

"I wish you would let me do something for you. I'm king now, surely there's something you could want or need? If it's within my power, ask and it's yours."

Her eyes finally teared up as the knot in her chest loosened and her chin trembled with the effort to control them.

"I beg of you then, do not seek me out. Do not follow me, do not write me. Let me go. Give me peace; that's all I want from this until such time as I can bear it."

"This is what you want?"

No. "Yes."

He looked heartbroken, but she had to think of what was best for them both now. And because she couldn't bear looking at him any longer, she hugged him and kissed him against all propriety or good sense in front of the gathered assemblage. On some level everyone had been aware of the Hero of Ferelden and eyes had been on her from the beginning. Now people openly stared in astonishment as the king and his love said their farewells.

Fight for me, damn you! Her mind begged him. Tell them all to go to the Black City! You're the king, fight for me!

But no words were spoken in the silence that followed as she pulled back and looked at him and then stepped away. In the end, duty won out.

She walked down the steps toward the huge double doors where the honor guard stood waiting to escort her to her carriage for the parade down the streets of a ravaged Denerim. Each step away from Alistair felt as if she were treading on broken glass.

"Let's get this over with," she told the soldier who opened the door for her.

"Right this way, my lady," he said.

She blinked as the sunlight hit her eyes and knuckled them to wipe away the tears as much as clear her eyes of the bright light. Along the streets people had lined up and the cheering increased in volume as she emerged from the palace.

"Oh, Maker," she murmured. "I'll be glad when this dies down and I can go back to my life again."

Hours later at Eamon's estate in Denerim, a weary Neria returned and flopped down on her bed dispiritedly. She had never felt so drained, emotionally, physically and mentally. Not even slaying the archedemon was this difficult.

She answered the knock at her door and found Eamon of all people standing there. She stepped back to afford him entry into the room, curious what brought him here. Of course this was his estate, but she had expected him to be with Alistair in the palace.

"The nation owes you much, Grey Warden," Eamon said. "We have a king on the throne and you ended the Blight. I must admit I had my doubts that only two of you could get the job done but you did."

"Three-we had Riordan, too," she pointed out, remembering the rugged rogue who had given his life to ground the beast.

"Of course," Eamon nodded. "I know you have done much for Ferelden and I loathe asking more of you, but I have to know. What is your relationship with Alistair?"

Her brows furrowed in displeasure at his probing question. Her tone bordered on rudeness. "I hardly see where that is your business, Arl Eamon."

"I only ask because Alistair can not afford…distractions at this time. He has to turn his efforts to restoring Denerim and the country."

"Then I suppose you will be glad to know that whatever we had is now done. Alistair knows his duty as do I. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to be alone."

"I didn't come just to talk about Alistair, I also wanted to ask something of you." At her glare he clarified. "For Connor's sake."

Her face softened. She had developed a soft spot for Eamon's little boy.

"Of course, what does he need?"

"The First Enchanter…Irving, was it? Has said he would see to the boy's training. I was hoping though that you would go with them when they leave tomorrow. You are a little more familiar to him and he trusts you. Could you see he is taken care of when they arrive at the tower? I will be so busy here I doubt I will have much time to check in on him."

She had no desire whatsoever to return to that gilded cage and pitied Connor for being trapped in it.

She nodded. "Of course, Arl Eamon, but you do know I will have other duties as a Grey Warden now that may lead me away from the tower."

"I understand, I just was hoping you could help him out those first few days. They will be difficult for him. Isolde rarely let him leave her sight all his life. This has been hard on both of them."

Neria wisely held her tongue not wanting to give Eamon an earful of her opinion of the Arlessa. She had little respect for a woman who would ruthlessly allow the slaughter of men, women and children all under her care for the sake of her child. She supposed a parent's love would allow them to commit some heinous acts, but she didn't know if she would ever understand that.

"How is the Arlessa? I can't imagine she's taking this well."

"She has taken to her bed. I doubt she'll be able to come out for several days."

"Well, I had best be to bed then. Long ride ahead tomorrow."

"Teagan said he would accompany you to the tower. He wants to check on his estate before returning to Redcliffe."

"That's fine. I like Bann Teagan. He's good company."

Neria shut the door and went back to her bed to curl up on it. She pulled the pillow Alistair had used when they shared this room into her arms and squeezed it, wishing she could still smell him on it, but they had changed the sheets and even the pillows themselves. With a sob, she closed her eyes and prayed sleep would bring her some oblivion.