A/N: This is a sequel to my fic If I've Killed One Man, I've Killed Two. And while it isn't strictly necessary (at least not yet) to have read it, I highly recommend you do. I will be referencing characters and events from that story without a lot of exposition to catch new readers up. It focuses on Alistair and how he deals with Harlow's departure and his ensuing marriage to Elissa Cousland. And no, this will not be one of those "it's a marriage of convenience" and then two chapters later they fall in love kind of stories. I'm going to take my time and explore how these people fit into each other's lives, especially with the specter of Harlow Tabris hanging over their marriage.

So for those of you who HAVE read If I've Killed, welcome back! I clearly could not get these characters out of my head. So much so that I have put the two crossovers I've been writing on hiatus while I get this story out. We know that Harlow got her happily ever after, but what about Alistair? Harlow will more than likely not appear in this story, but Zevran may make a brief appearance or two (how we love the sexy elf!)

Please R&R and I'll post a new chapter within a day or so!

It had been three months…a whole season, and still the pain was as sharp and present as ever. Every day there was some instance of daily life that reminded him of her; her face, her laugh, the deadly grace that was bred in her very bones. It had been a special kind of hell that he had been living in that summer; he was little more than a walking husk for weeks after her departure. For the life of him he could not get the image of her face tinged with sorrow but somehow lighter for it out of his mind, nor their last conversation.

Promise me she had begged, and how could he refuse her? Even then as she had handed his heart back to him and told him in no uncertain terms that what they had was over. He had acceded to her request, but a part of him had screamed that it was a bitter consolation; to know that such a time and distance would separate them, only to reunite on the heels of death.

His dreams had been the worst: when not plagued by images of darkspawn hounding his every step he was haunted by visions of her lips on his, sweat-slicked skin writhing against one another, and her name whispering his as if it were a homecoming. He fell for it every time, and every time he felt horror overtake him as he would pull back to gaze upon her achingly beautiful face and find it black and peeling, a vacant look in her eyes as she turned to ashes beneath his hands. And yet even those were not as bad as the dreams that featured her and him.

When Zevran had sent the message a month before, informing the court that the Arlessa of Amaranthine had been waylaid in the Southron Hills and would be returning to Amaranthine as soon as she was able, he had ripped the missive into shreds. He was not entirely shocked by the news, but the knowledge still hurt. It is one thing to imagine something, it is quite another to have it shoved in your face so that you are forced to acknowledge the truth of such a thing. Left alone in his room with the tattered remains of the missive at his feet he had raged about the chamber smashing every gift she had ever given him, until they were nothing more than unrecognizable bits of a life lived before this one. He had been so tempted to find the nearest bottle and dull the pain as he had before, but the invisible pressure of a crimson stain curling about his hip stayed his hand, and instead he wept bitter tears until he felt hollow to his core. After that night he had yet another nightmare to add to his list of torments, this one far more damaging in its own way.

It had been three months, an entire season, and as summer gave way to brisk autumn, Alistair Theirin found himself no closer to letting of Harlow Tabris than he had on the day she had departed, never to return.

~oOo~

"You could at least try to play the part, Elissa," Fergus sighed as he glanced over at his sister, her face pensive and withdrawn. "You're like to scare him off with an expression like that."

"The man survived a blight and killed an archdemon," came his sister's matter of fact reply, "I highly doubt that my lack of excitement would shake him to his foundation."

"Clearly you have never been married," Fergus muttered as he urged his horse into a faster trot, eager to arrive at the palace on time. When his sister did not follow suit he bit back a groan of exasperation and slowed his pace once more. "Elissa-"

"Fergus," she replied in a mocking tone of voice.

"You agreed to this arrangement months ago, why are you suddenly so put out at the prospect?"

"I am not 'suddenly' put out," she snapped, "I've always been put out. Just because I agreed to the damn marriage does not mean I'm happy with it. To be sold off like chattel, my virtue to called into question and discussed in public; it's barbaric. As if my maidenhead is where my value lies, and not in who I am."

"Elissa," Fergus said soothingly, "that is not the way of it-"

"I wonder," she replied sweetly, "if once that highly prized bit of tissue is broken will I then be worthless? After all, everyone seemed to be so damned concerned with it, I wonder if I am no longer a virgin will I no longer be interesting or as valued? Perhaps we should stop by the pearl on the way to palace? I can be rid of both it and this marriage in one fell swoop."

Fergus' throat let out a strangled cry as his sister wheeled her mare about and made as if to ride towards the eastern part of the city. When he fumbled a hand out to grasp at her reigns she shot him a bemused look and turned her horse back around.

"You are so gullible," she said with a chuckle as she continued along their course to the castle.

"And you are so infuriating," he replied wearily, "surviving Ostegar was a noon-day stroll compared to living with you dear sister."

"Without me your life would be far less entertaining," she replied cheerfully as they made their way through Denerim's palace district.

"Yes, whatever shall I do once you are married? I shall perish of boredom in Highever without you there to fight me into old age."

Elissa's smile slipped slightly at his words and she sobered once more. Reaching a hand out to catch his attention she looked at him with serious eyes.

"I do worry that you very well might," she said softly, "there is no one left for you there. It is a place filled with strangers and laughter that is unfamiliar. I dread to think upon you being left there with nothing but the ghosts of our family for company."

"Do not worry so," he said smiling, patting her hand in comfort, "I shall be more than well. Highever holds just as many happy memories as ill, and in time I shall endeavor to create new ones. You never have to fret about me, little sparrow."

"I hate it when you call me that," she said with a scowl and Fergus laughed brightly in response.

"Which is precisely why I do it. Perhaps I shall tell His Majesty of the phrase so as to ensure that in my absence you are being thoroughly annoyed to my satisfaction."

"I'm sure the King will do a fine enough job of that all on his own," Elissa said with a sigh as the massive gates of the castle loomed before them. They rode in silence for the rest of the journey, each lost to their own thoughts and questions. A stable lad greeted them at the gates and Fergus watched in amusement as his sister batted away the hands of a groomsmen who offered to help her from her horse. Once their mounts were seen to the pair were left alone before the steps of the castle, each gazing up at the massive stonework before them.

"Please try, Elissa, for my sake. I do not think this is such a bad match, it is advantageous for both our family and for Ferelden as a whole," he murmured quietly.

"Yes, no pressure at all to be the saving grace of the Theirin line, a simple thing really," she replied softly, her words not quite matching the wistful tone in her voice. Before her brother could protest further she closed her eyes and nodded her head. "Relax, dear brother, I shall do nothing to embarrass or otherwise besmirch our family's name. I shall marry the King, bear him an heir, and be the model of queenly elegance."

"Thank you, Elissa. It will get better with time and you are doing your country a great service," Fergus said, the gratitude plain in voice as he motioned to the liveried servants to allow them entrance.

"How could I not?" she replied dully as the doors to the castle swung open, "what else is a woman but one who knows her duty?"

Fergus chose to ignore the last of her words and gently placed her palm atop his hand as they ascended the stairs. Elissa felt her spine stiffen with every step and she silently said goodbye to the life and person she had been before. She knew as soon as she stepped across the threshold she would no longer be Elissa Cousland; wild and daring daughter of the Teryn of Highever…she would be Elissa Cousland; the model of nobility and propriety and future Queen of Ferelden.

Queen or prisoner, she thought, it is one and the same.