Hello and welcome to my little tale which has grown into something much larger than I initially intended.
This is but a meagre offering at the altar of the mighty Bioware. They own all.

For. Because.

There seemed little difference between the words and yet, enclosed in that little room of the Guerrin estate in Denerim, it seemed as though her entire life hung upon the meaning of them.

Because. For.

Elissa stared into the fireplace, her eye drawn to the writhing of the flames. Writhing; just as... No!

She flinched and started to her feet. Pacing the floor, she counted the slap of her bare feet against the stone. Eight, nine, ten. Reaching the wall, she turned and retraced her steps. Eight, nine, ten.

The rhythm soothed her. It had been too long since she had slept alone and she was unaccustomed to the silence. Eight, nine, ten. It had been months since she had had time to herself. It was good to be alone; to gather her thoughts, to take stock, and to plan.

Plan.

Her treacherous mind seized on the word. Plan; had she planned this? Eight, nine, ten. No, she hadn't. Some things simply cannot be planned for. Eight-nine-ten. Some decisions require immediate action where there is no time to plan, to consider, to doubt. Eightnineten.

Elissa stubbed her toe against the hearth and let out a yelp.

Gritting her teeth, she limped back to the bed and sank down. Her toe throbbed but as much as she attempted to focus on the sensation, it could not obscure the word which had haunted her all evening.

For. Because.

Drawing her legs against her chest and resting her chin on her knees, Elissa found her gaze drawn back to the flames, still writhing as before. Writhing; just as... them.

The acknowledgement slipped into her mind, too fast to be deflected. She winced, her arms tightening around her legs as she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping against hope that she could block any further stray thoughts. Cocooned in her self-imposed darkness, however, she found that she could only wonder how many paces lay between her and them. More than that, what else lay between them now?

Finding no peace, Elissa reopened her eyes.

His answer had been quick. Some may have said it was too quick. She knew otherwise though; there was no question as to his loyalty. Yes, he trusted her. Yes, she was persuasive. Even so, she knew Alistair had agreed for her sake.

Knowing what would come next—the question had prowled at the edge of her conscious, or conscience, all evening—Elissa forced her attention to focus back onto her injured toe. It still throbbed and there were some drops of blood where she had grazed the skin. Nothing significant, she concluded, but it was often the trivial niggles which proved to be the largest distractions in battle. Perhaps it would be prudent to visit with Wynne and have the graze healed.

An image of the elder mage swam into her head and Elissa swallowed. No; it would take only one steady look and Wynne would have the crux of the matter in an instant. Explanations would be demanded and Elissa would be forced to confront that question which was edging ever closer into the forefront of her mind.

She could hear it now; it had begun as a lingering whisper at the fringes of her thoughts which was slowly but steadily building into an intolerable roar.

With a whimper, Elissa clutched at her head and scrunched her eyes shut. There had been so little time. Morrigan had been waiting for her and had wanted—demanded—an instant answer. The price for survival had not seemed so high. If it meant they could survive...

Alistair had agreed for her. Not for Riordan, not for Ferelden, but for her. She had agreed...

For him or because of him?

Her breath caught in her throat as the question crashed through the last of her weakened defences and reverberated throughout her mind, deafening her to all else.

She had acted the part when Riordan had revealed what was required to kill the Archdemon. She had blustered her way through but inwardly she had felt so desperate. After everything, there was still only death. Alistair had once told her that she reminded him of something wonderful amidst all the death and destruction. No longer; she was now a part of it.

Desperate and despairing, she had retreated to her room and that was when Morrigan had made her offer. Even before the Witch had finished her explanation, Elissa had known that she could persuade Alistair. In those brief minutes during which she had considered the arrangement, had she even spared a thought for him? Or had she focused only on the chance to save her own skin; exploiting the one she loved while risking nothing of herself.

Elissa clenched her jaw as she fought against tears. Memories of the nightmares both she and Alistair endured flickered across her eyelids. She recalled the fear of waking up in camp and discovering shrieks attacking them. It was the first time that she had felt hunted.

She had never lost that feeling. Instead, the sense that the darkspawn were forever at her heels had only increased. They seemed to lost ground at every decision and had to fight the odds at every encounter. Nothing halted the march towards the final confrontation.

As she had fought to enforce each Grey Warden treaty, her skills had improved but her spirit had weakened. It was not enough. It would never be enough. The mages, dwarves and elves were all undermined by their own internal power struggles. They had honoured the treaties as best they could but she could not help but see the numbers as pitiful.

The battle was already lost.

A lingering shred of hope had driven her to accept Morrigan's offer but now she was able to properly think, Elissa recognised that defeating the Archdemon was only the very last act of an insurmountable challenge.

Her nails dug into her scalp as a sob finally escaped. She had committed a betrayal to Alistair greater than if she had allowed Loghain to live for nothing. She had manipulated him for her own survival; agreed to Morrigan's demands because she knew he would fall in line; grasped at the chance of ending this nightmare without genuine consideration of the consequence. All of which, she knew now, was for nothing. There would be no final blow to take, not for either of them. How could there be?

The squeal of the latch startled her and Elissa leapt to her feet, hastily grabbing at her dagger while she rubbed at the back of her eyes with her free hand. Gulping in a breath, she hoped it would dislodge the lump in her throat.

"Well, tis as you suggested, he is pleasant enough in bed. A pity it does not transfer outside of it," Morrigan remarked with a faint sneer as she entered into the room.

Her only response was the resounding thud of the dagger as the force of Elissa's throw embedded it into the solid wooden door behind Morrigan. The young Warden had the satisfaction of seeing a glimpse of surprise before Morrigan's face darkened.

Both women tensed, mirroring one another as they waited the other out. With a rush of clarity, Elissa realised that the only guarantee of the ritual was Morrigan's word. Aside from the futility of the agreement which now worried at her resolution, she had betrayed Alistair for the word of an apostate. The fact that Morrigan had once called her sister did nothing to ease the sense that she had been fooled. She knew Morrigan would not betray her on purpose but she also knew that the Witch was conditioned not to overlook an opportunity to gain an advantage. It was unfortunate, then, that Elissa could no longer see the advantage.

The blind fury with which she had responded to Morrigan's baiting dissipated. Her guilt had manifested itself in the reaction, nothing more. It left her with the knowledge that she was a traitor and a coward; a Cousland who could no longer face her duty.

Turning away, Elissa stared back at the fire. "It's done, then?"

"Yes."

"You'd best go rest. There will be much to do tomorrow, I imagine." She kept her back to the Witch and the thought occurred to her that this was probably the greatest test of loyalty she had offered to Morrigan; a dagger and an unshielded back.

"Elissa." The Witch spoke her name softly—lovingly, even. "The decision has been made and the act done. Do not think anymore on it."

The compassion in Morrigan's voice was more startling than the surprise which had flown across her face only minutes before. Elissa bit down hard on her lip as she struggled to maintain her facade but when she was at last able to glance over her shoulder, all that remained was the dagger embedded in the door.