Ok, hoping that putting up this story might help promote me finishing it as well as get me some feedback on my writing ability here. I'm aiming for updates to be monthly since I am looking after my brother's boys while he is deployed. That makes life a bit crazy there! Thanks to Ladyamesindy for betaing for me. Love you dear! :)

Prologue

"Oh sweet Maker...anyone see what the warhammer that hit me was made of?" Alistair groaned as he slowly came to. His face felt like an ogre had rammed it and the rest of him was not feeling much better. He could feel blood, warm and wet in spots while caked and almost dried in others. His clothes damp from the sweat, his muscles protested him even moving, and his armor felt heavier than it had in a long time. The ringing in his ears was just as painful though he ignored them and worked to sit up.

What struck him first was the stillness, the complete and utter quiet that reigned supreme in that moment. It was the most unnatural thing to him after months of fighting and camping. If he strained his ears he might hear the wind whistling as the ringing faded. He shook his head in an effort to hasten things but failed. It left him to rely on other senses like the stench of dead darkspawn and the sight of an empty roof to inform him where he was. He stood carefully, mindful to keep grips on his father's sword and Duncan's shield, just in case of more attackers that he was not seeing through fire and smoke.

He might not have seen any enemies but he certainly saw none of his friends either. He could have been completely alone up on this tower without even an angry archdemon to eat him. The thought had him taking a few steps. Did everyone run off to celebrate victory and leave him behind? No...Kallian would never have...

"Kalli!" Alistair cried suddenly as memory returned painfully. He should have expected a blighted dirty trick from her! Was that not how she always ended up besting him when they had sparred around camp? He was afraid then, afraid to see but helpless to do anything but look.

He could see the archdemon, the size of it grand even as a corpse with a sword stuck in it's skull. It's vile blood coating the roof in a gory smear with a form looking so small in a pool of blood nearby. The ancient armor she had collected was dented, torn, and blackened from attacks. The helm was gone, having fallen off somewhere he was sure, leaving that long black hair trailing in the blood from where it escaped the normally tight bun on the top of her head.

Alistair was barely aware for screaming Kallian's name, or of running over to her. He just knew he was on his knees, weapons carelessly dumped to the side as he pulled the green eyed elf's body to him. "No no no...you can't be dead. Not my tough little shem smiter. Open those eyes now, come on. Kallian? Do not make me clean up your mess, you know you have to do that."

He shook her a bit even as his mind rang with Riordan's words about what would happen, what had needed to happen. No the older warden was wrong or Kallian found a loophole in the situation. Something! Anything!

"Wynne!" he bellowed out then, "Wynne help me! Kallian is...she's..."

The sob ripped his heart open, all the pain pouring out as Alistair felt hot tears run down his cheeks. "Please no...Kalli I can't... You said you would be here. You and your sister...cousin...the red head, you two have a night of drinking ahead of you remember? You promised her that. You and me...we have to go have supper with your father. He is going to sit and be all fatherly intimidating about us and you would talk him around. That is what you said before... before..."

He ran a hand over her blood caked hair, hugging the lifeless body to his chest. She always loved curling up against him, told him it was like having her own little fort against the world. "You are suppose to be here," he whispered in a broken tone. "You said you would be here to help me. So I would not be alone with Anora to rule. You remember don't you? Even though we..."

Alistair rocked her then, like she was a baby. His mind went back to the last conversation he had with his friend...his love, not the Warden as people called her. He could feel his heart breaking all over again remembering how she had looked as he told her it was over between them. How she had pointed out he was a king now and could do whatever he wanted, including have a mistress. He would admit being tempted, could far too easily imagine it.

She was just an elf to some after all and it was not unheard of for nobles to have women on the side that enticed them far more than their wives. He had refused though, he did not want a sham of a marriage or even only half of a relationship. She had been furious and yelled at him, reminding him exactly of how she was an elf. She had always been aware they would never be more than what they were. He had seen the hurt in those bright green eyes though, was reminded how she never got sad, she got angry. She had punched him then to...

"Please...please don't go Kalli," he murmured as he rocked the embodiment of his shattered heart. "I promise I will take you back. We can make it work somehow...just don't leave me here alone...please. You said I would not have to do this alone."

There was no response, no movement, no swears, not even a blink. Just those green eyes staring at nothing. They didn't glare, or dance, or get that mischief making twinkle they sometimes did. They didn't look tired, hurt, wrathful, or even defiant at the hand fate dealt. There was just...nothing. Nothing there in a woman that Alistair had always known to be so expressive and emotional.

He cradled that beloved face of hers, even the tattoo that he always thought made her look wild. Had she not told him she got it because she had wanted to be a dalish? It had fit her perfectly with that wild and sometimes raging personality of hers. He pressed his lips to a cold forehead before laying his cheek there, closing his eyes and holding her just one more time. Hope slowly leaking away that she was not gone.

He had no prayers, even with all that templar training he had received. He supposed it was fitting, considering what Riordan had told them in Redcliffe.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you," he recited, brushing hair and closing the eyes of the dead as his throat tried to close up. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten...and one day...I shall join you..."