AN: This is my first story based on Dragon Age and the second fanfic in my life. This story starts after game's end, put aside that "ending" (slide show). Awakening's not considered here, as I'm playing it right now. I tried to fill in some logic gaps in world description and history. If you see any contradiction with DA tell me please. I'd like to avoid such things.

I still haven't received any answers from possible beta-readers and I'm in need of one. If you feel you have free time for me - welcome!

King Alistair Theirin was sitting in a massive wooden armchair near the fireplace. That fire was the only source of light in his large room in Redcliffe castle. It was late in the evening and rain was pouring outside making a soporific sound, because it was June and castle's windows were open.

Alistair was staring into the fire and in spite of being close to it his face seemed to be darker than the rest of the room. Big mabari was half-sitting half-lying by his left site. It raised its head and whimpered plaintively looking into his human neighbor eyes.

"I know, my friend, I know." Alistair muttered patting dog's head lightly.

He had just returned from the funeral of his fellow Grey Warden, the savior of all Ferelden, his first and only true love, Solona Amell. All those days from Blight's end and till now he was acting as a righteous king and a confident leader, but he felt like being inside a deep stone well. Then he returned to Redcliffe (Denerim palace was in no state for a King residence). It was his home and suddenly all his defenses fell down like defeated golem. And then, the pain came. Immense, mind-penetrating and will-weakening pain.

Alistair had to admit it was even worse than after Duncan's death. Who could ever think there could be such a thing? Alistair missed him much, but he was at least an old man – old for a Grey Warden, of course. It was unavoidable and that helped a little. Also, Duncan was always a mixture of a father and a senior officer to him, which made Duncan responsible for Alistair and not vice versa, as it was in case with Solona. She was younger than him, a woman and joined later than he – everything put Alistair in a position of her defender. And now he failed her. Failed. That word reminded him of Gauntlet and the Guard of Andraste's Ashes. What would he ask now? Even if Alistair felt he'd failed Duncan in a way, now he was absolutely sure he was guilty.

Those memories of their recent adventures made Alistair sigh. He felt his back becoming numb and leaned back into armchair, continuing to sink into his gloomy thoughts. There was another thing that disturbed him, and that was the worst thing about that entire situation. He felt deceived, betrayed, tricked by some evil mind. As if somebody put a bandage on his eyes and when he finally managed to open them all was done and done against his will. He tried to think that Solona's death was just an accident, that nobody knew Riordan wouldn't be able to make the final strike, that… "Oh, Maker, who am I trying to fool?" Alistair lamented quietly, running his hands through his hair. He sighed and shook his hand.

He was deceived. By her. He remembered that dialog very vividly and that was the last he saw of her alive.

They managed to eliminate all darkspawn outside Denerim walls. Riordan suggested going to Fort Drakon as the most probable place of the Archdemon appearance. Small group, he said. And then Solona chose Wynne, Sten and Ohgren to go with her. Two mages and two warriors. Nice choice, really.

But being a good fighter himself Alistair was at least very surprised, shocked in fact. It was the first time since they met she wouldn't accept his help. They argued.

"You're a King now, Alistair. You have to stay with your men and inspire confidence in them," Solona said looking tenderly into his eyes.

"But I'm a Grey Warden in first place! I have to be there with you and fight the Archdemon!" he insisted trying not to get distracted by her eyes.

"That's only Riordan's speculation, Archdemon can appear anywhere," Solona waved her hand carelessly. She smiled a little. "Isn't it wise to divide our Warden forces?" she suggested. "If it comes here you kill it, if there – Riordan kills it. It's not dangerous for me, you see?" she ended putting emphasis on "not".

"All right, then. We've got no time for arguing," he finally yielded seeing her reasons. "Just… be safe," he eyed her anxiously.

"Don't worry, my king. I shall not fail you," she answered in a mockingly official tone and something sparkled in her eyes. Suddenly she leaned forward and kissed him. That was short but very passionate and deep kiss, tasting of hope, trust and… tomorrow. Solona parted from him as abruptly as she began it, leaving something small and warm in his hand. She walked rapidly from him followed by others. Alistair just stared at her still unable to believe she'd already gone. Only after a few seconds he looked at his hand. There was her Warden's Oath, still warm from her body.

"What's it?" he cried to her, puzzled.

"A gift!" she threw back casting a light smile at him.

"Gift?.." he muttered, but Solona was too far to continue their dialog and he had darkspawn to kill and men to organize. So he just put it in his little bag with health poultices and forgot about it.

She deceived him. How could he believe that? "Only a speculation", right. From an experienced Grey Warden. Really, why should a dragon go to a vast field full of archers instead of aiming for a small tower top he can flame all around from? "I'm simply hopeless," Alistair admitted bitterly. He traveled with Solona for many months and he saw her lying and persuading people all along their way, from bandits to merchants to nobles at the Landsmeet. How could he forget that firm stare full of confidence and tenderness at one time? That calm voice and motherly intonations she used anytime to lull somebody's mind?

Now, replaying that situation in his mind for a millionth time Alistair could see something wasn't right about her then. Her broad usually pink cheeks he loved so much were pale. She was joking a lot and was his usual tactics to hide real emotions. She avoided looking at him after their kiss. And that amulet she'd given him was the strangest thing…

Alistair took her Warden's Oath in his right hand and examined it. Just a simple vial with brown coagulated blood on an iron chain. A creepy gift. Why would she give it to him? Was that made to distract him, to puzzle and draw his attention to something unimportant? How dared she playing her cheap tricks on him? He was so used to her honesty, openness, he couldn't even think she'd be ever lying to him! That's not just a trick, it was a betrayal! Alistair clenched the amulet in his fist and raised his hand…

"Going in circles, are we? Ready to smash another amulet at the wall?" said someone in a very unpleasant voice and with Wynne-like intonation right inside his head.

"No, no, no," he whispered frightened by his own fury. He pressed Oath to his chest carefully. That was memory. Memory of her. "Oh, really? How ironical," he thought remembering his own words he said filling that very amulet.

"Something to remind us… of those who didn't make it so far."

And now all became crystal clear. Solona gave her Oath for him to remember her if she didn't make it so far. And she didn't. Alistair sighed deeply feeling helplessly, extremely lonely and angry at himself. He closed his eyes, aching and filled with tears, with his left hand, his mind shouting from all that injustice and pain. He wished somebody would come now and kill him in the most tormenting way…

And then there came a knock at the door. Shocked that somebody really came Alistair headed to the door because it was locked.

"Yes?" he asked in a slightly trembling, tired voice.

"Alistair… I mean, Your Majesty… I have something for you," it was Leliana and she stretched a hand with a small sealed scroll.

Alistair didn't pay any attention to his new title and took the piece of paper and studied it, intrigued. There were no signs on the seal or scroll itself.

"What is it?" he asked.

"A letter… from Solona." Leliana forced her self to end the sentence. "She gave it to me the morning before battle. And asked to give it to you, if… you know what." She finally added in a broken voice. Leliana loved Solona too, and Alistair knew that. He felt pity for the girl. She should have really stayed in Lothering… But Lothering was captured by darkspawn. "There's no easy way in our life," he thought.

"Thank you. Why is it still sealed?" Alistair didn't really know what to say. He said the first thing that came into his mind, considering Leliana's curiosity. "I mean, why didn't you read it? I know she was important to you…" he added trying to be compassionate and soften his blunt question. But Leliana already looked offended.

"I know I sometimes put my nose in others' business. But Solona was my best friend. I loved her." She stared angrily at Alistair. "She's shown me I can be different from Marjolaine. And I can. She asked me to give it to you. And I gave." Leliana said in a stern voice, turned on her heels and walked away.

He sighed. He never really liked that Chantry-loving rogue. But now he was wrong, he acted as a selfish and thick-skinned man. Why should everything be so complicated?

Alistair closed the door and glanced over the room. His – her, but now his – mabari was sleeping beside the fire. He took a candle and lit it. Then he sat at his table holding that scroll in his both hands. That little piece of paper was a kind of miracle and wasn't able to open and read it. That letter contained some part of Solona that wasn't his memory of her, something that was really her. There, wrapped in a sheet of paper, she was living until he opened it.

Sound of thunder cut the magic of the moment and Alistair finally chose to read the letter. The paper was all covered with her nice letters (Alistair was also taught to write, but he never had a good practice, so he always found her and Wynne's handwritings fascinating). The letter was rather short and matter-of-fact in tone:

"My dear Alistair,

I'm sitting here in your room in castle Redcliffe and you're already asleep. You look so pleased and innocent in your sleep that I'm almost starting to feel motherly feelings towards you. Just joking, dear.

Now, to more serious matters. I believe I owe you're an apology and explanation. But really, that's simple. I'm a Grey Warden and you're a Grey Warden and a King. You have more duties and more uses, than just die killing the Archdemon. Just facts. Anyway, if you die Anora will become a Queen and sooner or later she'll revenge me for Loghain's death. That's not an option for me. I've made that decision myself. It was a difficult choice, but in fact the least difficult comparing with our previous adventures.

And I'm sorry. I'm the one who've kept saying to you – decide for yourself, be confident… And I'm deciding for you again. I guess I can never let you lead, that's just my nature. But now, you should, no you must take your time and act as a leader. Be a glorious King and a happy man.

With all my love and hopes for tomorrow,

Solona.

P.S. Won't you be so kind to give my books to Dagna, that dwarven apprentice girl? Thanks in advance.

Alistair read it several times. So, she writing that letter just after their last… well, night before the final battle. She came into this very room and stayed with him, but he didn't know she wasn't sleeping when he was. She had some quarrel with Morrigan before that, but he guessed he would never know what it was about. That was a wonderful night; he was so involved in his feelings that he almost forgot about coming battle and fell asleep contented.

He looked at the letter once more. Despite all the words it had a light-hearted intonation. And that post scriptum made it look like a note from someone who had just left for a short trip to Highever and asked for a little favor. It was such a nice feeling to imagine that, but Alistair simply couldn't. "Books to Dagna," he repeated mindlessly. He could send anyone to the Circle with his King's authority. But suddenly Alistair felt he wanted to go there himself, to get some more of Solona, her past and things that connected her with that place. And books… Alistair stood up and carefully put the letter into his pocket. He decided to go to her room to find those books… It was night already, but he didn't feel sleepy. He found pleasure in doing what she'd asked, nonetheless it was rather unimportant. He took his candlestick and went out to the dark corridor.

Finally he reached her room. The door wasn't closed and he entered slowly closing it behind him. There were some burning candles on the table. He thought it was strange but didn't pay much attention. He sat at the table that was covered with flasks, pieces of paper, unknown ingredients and books. One of the books was opened and lay just near to him. He leaned closer and studied it. It wasn't a book in fact. It was a mixture of copybook, journal and diary, where she'd written down new spells, recipes and other useful observations, and also comments on current situation. He understood almost nothing in her writing – but he enjoyed just looking at her handwriting. It was very nice and neat at the beginning – probably her apprentice writings – and became worse when they began camping in the wilds. Sometimes he stumbled upon sentences he could understand.

"Cone of Cold and Stone Fist is a nice combination! Shatters target almost every time." Yes, that was her favourite way to deal with mage foes. Alistair remembered how Solona would run into battle ahead of their group and attack mages. She'd often finish that battle lying unconscious, because she undertook all the damage appearing first. But she gave them an opportunity to deal with only non-mage foes and that's good even if you were a templar. He'd often told her that a mage shouldn't run into battle first. And she said she was not only a mage, but a leader. She also always teased him saying she was better at fighting mages than him. Alistair smiled lightly and turned the page.

"Finally found all Juggernaut pieces. Made Alistair wear it – he looks funny with a pony tail!" And a small rough picture of his helm. His heart shrank painfully. It looked so much like little girl's diary! He never asked her about age, but she was probably younger than 20. His good mood vapoured into nothing and he shut the book fiercely, causing some flasks to fall and break. "Oh, blast it," he cursed under his breath. How could she really carry those fragile things with her? Solona was always loaded with her herbalist stuff, so he and other companions used to carry her other things. Alistair personally was carrying her tent. He remembered, how he wondered what would happen if he accidentally lost it and suggested his one instead? "How very smart of me. She would probably accept my offer and leave me outside," he thought. It was strange, but Blight or not, things were easier then. He was only concerned about them not be killed and their starting relationship. Probably, that was so because she made all decisions, led their way, and he had only followed her happily just like Mabby, her mabari. "Take your time and act as a leader" she wrote. How does one do such things?

The door opened and somebody entered the room.

"Alistair? What are you doing here?" It was Wynne.

"I, uh… remembering." he stated.

"I see. I'm trying to sort things here. Separate books, scrolls, unnecessary scraps of paper…" Wynne waved her hand at different piles on the floor. "I came out to bring some rag. There's so much dust here…"

Alistair chuckled shortly. "I was right. You are grandmotherly."

"And you're grandchildish, or simply childish," she retorted. "You have already broken something here, I see."

"I…yes." Alistair seemed to be embarrassed a bit. "But, Wynne, I have something to tell you. Solona asked me to give her books to Dagna. I'd like to go to the Circle myself. Would you accompany me? You were heading there, anyway, right?"

Wynne looked surprised. "I was planning it, yes. But you? That's a strange act for a King. You'd better make some valid reason for that," she advised.

"I can always say that I'm going to inspect how my instructions are being executed. About autonomy and templars," he explained.

"Hmmm. Still not very convincing." Wynne remarked. "But all right. I think I can go with you. I'm not that sure if we can go without guards and all, though…" She took a book and wiped it.

"I can do what I want, I guess." Alistair replied firmly.

"Sure, my dear king." Wynne smiled turning back to him. "Now, would you like me to make you some sedative potion? I'm a rather good herbalist, and you need to sleep before going anywhere."

"I think, yes. Thank you," he replied absentmindedly. His thoughts were already on their way to the Circle of Magi.