Alistair watched her walk away from the campfire, back to her tent. Shadow slowly engulfed her slender form. There was something about Bo, in the way she walked and talked. The way she smiled. She never showed sadness, never showed any emotion besides cheerfulness.

It got worse when she decided to leave the elf assassin alive. It was in the way the elf looked at her, like she was a prize for all his efforts and his easy compliments. It made Alistair uneasy. She would consult the elf for advice, on her armor, her hair… she lived for the praise he gave her, seemed to hunger for it. Yet when he had given her the rose he found at Ostagar, her face lit up, and her eyes looked up at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. So why the hell was she wasting her time with him? Alistair sat, head in his hand. She was so strong, it seemed if she wanted to, she could call the seas, and they would rise up beneath her, obedient, ready to move the tide to her will. Alistair had no outstanding qualities like that. He was simply pathetic, he thought dimly, he was always complaining. Yesterday he had a nasty gash on his arm where he had fallen and struck a rock. He had howled like a baby when Wynne was healing it. Bo wouldn't have cried out, she wouldn't have fallen in the first place. He was worthless, no wonder Marric had wanted to be rid of him.

A few hours of moping and tending the fire later, Bo came back out of her tent in a loose white v-neck shirt and brown linen pants. Even wrapped in a blanket she shivered when the wind picked up and rustled the branches around them. Bo's eyes were startled when she saw him, still sitting in the same place she had left him.

"Alistair?" Her voice sounded distant, far away

"Hey," he whispered softly. "What are you still doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. You?"

"Never tried." He laughed but he didn't sound like himself. He felt like he could see this scene perfectly as an outsider looking in. She sat next to him and invited him under the blanket. Her body was warm against his cold chainmail armor. Her eyes were red.

"Are you alright?" Alistair asked her, concern filling his every word.

"Yes," she was betrayed by the wavering of her voice, "I'll tell you some other time, just not now." She snuggled closer next to him and the fire.

"How have you been?" Bo asked him. Alistair snorted at that traditional question to an awkward moment.

"Fine, I guess. I keep having bad dreams though."

"Is that why you stay out here all night, watching the fire?"

"Partly."

"Are your dreams about the darkspawn? I've been having those too."

"Some of them are, but most of them are about you."

"Me?" That puzzled her; he could see it written on her face. She seemed to be so vulnerable right now. He wondered what could have shaken her so much to put her at this state.

"Yes, I… I keep seeing you… dying." As soon as he said it, the sight filled his mind, one he saw frequently in his dreams. Bo lying on the ground, chest ripped open, rib cage mangled. Her eyes staring at him, lifeless, the qualities he loved about her gone, qualities that made her Bo. The sight of her made him want to gag. Instead he turned towards the real, living Bo, who was offering him with a hug. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and held him. After a few minutes she brought her hands up to his face, picked his head up, and looked him in the eyes, eyes that were on the brink of shedding tears.

"I am not going to die," she told him, "okay? I'm right here, Alistair; I'll be here with you forever."

They were in their room, the new King and Queen of Ferelden. Riordan had just told them the real price of being a Grey Warden, one of them was going to kill the Archdemon and when they did, they would die

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself, Alistair. This country needs you." Bo was shouting at him.

"And I can't allow you to die, either. Bo, I won't be able to live if I lose you."

"Oh, grow a pair, Alistair!" Her face was red from the shouting. She turned on her heel and ran from the room. Alistair sunk to the bed, overcome with grief. She had promised they would be together forever. What a silly, clichéd promise; even he knew that. He loved her, but was still surprised when she said she actually wanted to marry him at the Landsmeet. He knew he could be a good King with her at his side. His head slid to his hands and he cried, silently, lest someone might hear him but his shoulders convulsed with every great sob. She was right. She was always right. He was being pathetic. Archdemon aside, thousands of other causes of death could happen, she could simply come down with a sickness and die? The thought sent another wave of sobs through him. Slowly his weeping became occasional whimpers and soon, nothing. He prepared for bed, wondering where Bo was. The door opened slightly and she walked into the room; her eyes red and puffy too. He didn't say anything just opened his arms, and she walked into his embrace and held him tightly.

"Morrigan," she began, "has come up with a solution to our… er… problem." Alistair tensed but didn't respond; he didn't trust Morrigan.

"She speaks of a ritual, where if she was to become pregnant with a Grey Warden's child that when the Archdemon is killed, its essence would search for the unborn child instead of killing one of us."

"But how would Morrigan become preg… oh." His fought back the urge to hurl. Bo remained quiet, still wrapped up in his embrace she wouldn't look at his face.

"What does this mean?" Alistair asked her.

"It means that you would have to sleep with Morrigan, tonight, if we are both to survive the battle."

"You're not trying to tell me something, are you?"

"Only that I want to keep us both alive. Please Alistair, it's our only hope."

"But…" Alistair tried to think of something that would prevent him from sleeping with the one woman he loathed the most. Nothing came to mind.

"Alright." He agreed with a sigh. What a strange night this has turned into, Alistair thought with despair. "Take me to her, before I change my mind." Bo headed for the door but Alistair pulled her arm to stop her and turn her around.

"Promise me you'll still love me after this? I need to know." His gaze bore deeply into hers, her face inches from his. His eyes had intensity as he stared into hers. Intensity he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Yes, of course, Alistair. I'll love you forever." He ferverishly pressed his lips on hers. Hers were warm and inviting and something else that he couldn't quite understand… guilt? All those thoughts were wiped from his mind as she threw her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. When they finally parted, his breath came in ragged gasps.

"All I am going to think about is you, you know that."

"I am not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not." She smiled; her face was covered in splotches of heated red.

"I'll be back, my love." He whispered into her ear before he turned and made way for Morrigan's bed chamber, he didn't want Bo around while Morrigan was in the room.

He held her fragile form, that once strong force reduced to a limp, empty shell. The sword thrust between her ribs, a fatal blow. This was not the Bo he knew. No, the Bo he knew was strong and brave and this… wasn't. This was nothing. Alistair cradled her form in his arms, but she was gone. He sat in the old warehouse where he had found her broken body. When he first saw what the criminals did to his Bo he went blind with rage he wasn't even blocking their attacks. He hoped one of their blows would kill him. When his mind cleared, their dead bodies surrounded him on the ground. She would have scolded him for such foolishness, saying he had a country to watch over, and he shouldn't be so careless with his life. She always said country first, love second, but he could see right through her lies. He knew that she would have done the same in his position. It wasn't until now that he noticed his face was streaked with tears. He had thought the wetness on his face was blood, had hoped it was blood.

He carried her ruined form from the foundry district of Denerim back through the streets until Bann Teagan found him lost, wandering around the city, sitting in some alleyway, crying tears of anguish. All Teagan did was stand back, out of sight and watch; after all, there was nothing he could do. Finally, Alistair stood, set his jaw and carried his love back to the palace. He felt numb. She had promised she would always love him, promised she would never leave him. Out of all the memories, those two stood out significantly.

From all his misery he wondered where Zevran was. Maybe that elf eventually did get himself killed. Alistair didn't think so. That assassin was too smart to be murdered. He wondered where Morrigan was now; wondered what his child was like. Maybe it had his smile, his hair color, or his eyes. He wondered if it was a boy or a girl, if it would grow up and, if need be, would his mother allow it to be King or Queen of Ferelden. Through all his suffering, he laughed at the thought of Morrigan allowing her child to rule Ferelden.

When he reached the palace, he looked down at Bo. Her sweet face, her loving eyes, now frozen in a state of calm reality. She accepted death, welcomed it, like an old friend. He wondered if he would have the strength, when his time came, to stare death in the face and challenge it. He closed her eyes. Requiescat in Pace, love. Alistair stood in the entryway for a while, not positive what to do with her body. Finally, Teagan led him to an empty room and he laid her on the bed, kissed her forehead and turned away.

On his way to his bed chamber, Alistair stopped at the entrance to their daughter's room. Five year old Delilah was sleeping soundlessly. Alistair walked to her bed looked down at her sweet face. She had his eyes but besides that she looked exactly like Bo. He could almost hear Bo's voice in his head repeating what she had said to him that first night by the campfire, "I'll be here with you forever."