There was someone in his room.

Alistair's hand flew to his waist where his pommel usually hung. But his fingers closed around thin air and he bit back a curse at his own idiocy for leaving his sword inside the room. His eyes landed on his sheathed blade leaning against the wall next to the creepy, shadowy figure.

"Do not be alarmed. It is only I."

Alistair squinted, standing just inside the threshold of his door. True enough it was the witch who stood by the fire as she warmed herself in front of the crackling flames.

"Morrigan," He growled, drawing his hand over his eyes. He did not want her to see his swollen eyes, his tear-streaked face. He did not want her here. Not tonight. Any other night, he would have tolerated her haughty tongue. But not tonight. "Get out." He hissed, rubbing hard at his tear-soaked face.

"My, my. You are just delightful tonight." She snapped, though she did not turn around to face him.

Alistair glared at the dark form standing by the hearth before he walked over to the bed, sinking down heavily on the edge. "Get out." He growled once more, lowering his voice and gesturing at the open door. "I won't deal with you. Not tonight."

Solona's words echoed in his mind, bouncing around inside his skull. It'll be me, she had cried, the duty falls on me.

"Very well, Alistair. But hear what I have to say, and I shall leave you be afterwards." The witch's voice grated on his nerves as she spoke once more, announcing her continued presence.

"Morrigan, not tonight!" He roared as he shot to his feet, slamming his fist against the bedpost.

"No, it must be tonight. Or she will die." Her rhythmic voice beat against him.

He paused, her unexpected words stilling his rage before he could throw her out.

"Ah, now you're intrigued." She murmured.

Did she know? How could she possibly know?

"I know what happens when the archdemon dies. I know a Grey Warden must be sacrificed." She continued, her hands hovering over the fire. Her eerie whispers made his skin crawl.

"Of course you do." He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. His nerves rattled, screeched and grinded against the words the witch uttered. But he wasn't surprised that she knew. She always seemed to know the strangest things.

"That other Warden has offered to take the final blow, thus sacrificing himself." She did not wait for his confirmation, though he nodded wordlessly.

"Idle fancy, a cloudy dream which young fools grasp at. It will be her. You and I both know it. She knows it. It was always meant to be her." The last words came as a sigh, a soft wistful breath.

Yet another drop of tear rolled down his face, though he no longer cared that Morrigan might see.

"Yes." He choked out, gagging on that cruel, heartless word.

The silence persisted for a while afterwards, her staring at the fire, him staring up at the ceiling; an uneasy, sticky truce that clung to them both uncomfortably. But he did not wish for her to leave any longer. Even if it was Morrigan – Maker, Morrigan! Of all the people, the witch! – it was easier to endure the shattering of his world with her than alone. The knowledge that he wasn't alone in this horrid torment made the pain almost – almost – bearable.

"Maker, I can't believe it. This is really happening." He broke the silence, cracking the uneasy truce between them. "The dawn will come, and I'm going to lose her. She held the entire party together, built an army, even made you and I get along without killing each other for nearly a year." He barked out a laugh, grinding and scratchy even to his own ears. "And she's just going to die. Tomorrow. And I have to sit here and accept it. How? How am I supposed to do that?"

The witch did not respond to him, the heavy silence settling between them. The crackle of fire filled the void as his tears teetered.

"Why are you here?" He asked suddenly, turning his head to look at her.

Was she trembling?

"I… I came for her." She whispered. "She is… I have come to care for her." Her words were barely audible over the crackling flames. His eyes settled on her slender, trembling shoulders.

His companions loved her as much as he did, in their own ways. A twisted grin found a way to his lips at that thought. Even if she was going to die, she was loved. Right. Because that made him feel so much better.

"Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemeth turned me out, the very last would have been that I would find in her a friend. Perhaps even a sister." Her voice shook slightly, wavering like the flames before her.

"I am not… worthy… of her friendship." Her voice creaked, her hooded head tilting low. "I value it, treasure it more than anything I possess – but I do not deserve it."

Her voice broke, and Alistair knew the witch was hurting. She was hurting like he was; knowing that Solona would slip away from them tomorrow, like a wisp, like a misty dream.

He walked closer to her, standing by the hearth. His eyes traced the wet tears flowing from her yellow eyes to her lips, bloodied from her biting down on them to swallow her sobs. He lifted a hand and tentatively grasped her bare shoulder, not too surprised when she did not flinch away or even shrug. She simply wept.

Her tears pulled at his once again, the barely stemmed flow resuming once more. He wept with her, mourning.

He would lose his love, come the morrow. Solona was going to die.

She would die.

They wept together by the fire.

"I… I offer a way out." She rasped out, broken by the sobs. "I know I am betraying her trust, betraying her friendship by offering this. But I offer a way out. A way for her to live. She does not have to die."

His surprise made him grip her shoulder too hard, making the woman wince. He promptly let go, but she finally turned around to face him fully. Her tears glistened on her cheeks.

"A way out?" He echoed her, disbelief coloring his roughened voice. Could he possibly dare to hope?

"A ritual… performed on the eve of battle, in the dark of night." She spoke quietly, her eyes unable to meet his.

"A ritual? What kind of ritual? Will it save her? Tell me!" He nearly shouted, his desperation clawing its way out of his throat.

She lowered her face, her broken voice seeping out. Her eyes hid from his searching gaze.

"You must lay with me. Here, tonight."

He stood stunned, gaping at the witch before him.

"You want to have sex with me?"

"Listen till the end, Alistair. There is more." Morrigan snapped, her eyes hardening.

"Of course there is." He folded his arms and glared at her.

"From our joining, a child will be conceived. A child with your taint which the essence of the archdemon will seek like a beacon."

"I… I must be hearing things. Is this a joke?" He mumbled, shaking his head. "I am hearing things. Are you really telling me to impregnate you, in some kind of magical sex rite?!"

"I am hardly pleased about this either." She scowled, finally looking more like her usual self.

"Oh well that's just great, isn't it?" He shouted, vicious rage flooding him. "You want me to fuck you, and hate the fact that you want me to!"

The witched stared at him in shock, her eyes widening at his uncharacteristically savage words.

"This… child… why do you even want such a thing? Do you want an heir to the throne? Because I can tell you right now that being a bastard prince isn't all that fun."

"Don't be foolish, Alistair." Morrigan scoffed. "The child will be born with a soul of an Old God. After but one night, it could barely be called a child."

"Oh. Well, that's so much better, don't you think?" He spat. "Here I was, worried about creating another bastard heir and I didn't even consider that it might also be some dragon… god… whatever!"

Morrigan flinched away from his blistering glare, retreating away from him. He turned around, pacing the small length of his room as he glowered at the woman. It took him a moment to crush the scorching wrath enough to spit out the next words.

"Why me? You need the taint in my blood, right? Riordan is also a Grey Warden. Why didn't you just go to him instead? You could seduce him far more easily than me, for so many reasons."

"I… I do not know if it'll work." She mumbled hesitantly, twisting her hands. "He's had the taint for so long – I do not know if the child with his taint would save her for certain. And…" she trailed off, her eyes wary as he scowled.

"And what?"

"No, forget it." She clamped up, backing away.

He whirled around, slamming the witch against the wall as his rage flared up again.

"Morrigan, you're asking me to fuck you behind her back, and you want to hold things back from me?" He snarled. "And what?"

"Fine, I wished to say that if I must I would rather lie with you than the unknown Warden." She snapped, her yellow eyes blazing with sudden heat.

He doubled back, releasing the witch from his grasp as his fury was replaced by dumbstruck confusion. He gawked at the witch. She wants to…?

"Oh, close your mouth before the flies gather. You look foolish enough without that stupid look on your face. I did not mean that in a romantic sense."

He snapped it shut.

"All I meant was despite our bickering, and you playing the fool, we still are companions. She brought us together and I have learned to… watch your back. Over the last year you have grown more… tolerable, despite it all."

I must be dreaming. I must be dreaming right now.

"Do you still find me unbearably evil and unpleasant, as when we had first met in the Wilds?" She asked, her wavering voice just barely hinting at her uncertainty.

Alistair searched her yellow feline eyes, even brighter than usual with the gleaming tears still pooled there. Her cold beauty had always left him chilled before, but tonight… tonight she didn't seem so icy anymore.

"No." He sighed, bringing his hand up to press at his temples briefly as his anger deflated. "You aren't that bad. But look, even if I was willing to entertain this idea – and I'm not saying I am – do you really want me to do this? Are you sure? It's me, you know?"

Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears again, surprising him.

"Oh hey, what'd I say?" He hesitantly reached out.

"You are a kind man, Alistair. Foolish, perhaps, but a kind man nonetheless."

She turned her head, looking away from him. Her tears sparkled in the dim light on her cheeks.

"You… yes, I am sure. I thought… I thought that I might leave before the battle, or of simply staying silent regarding this ritual. She has become dear to me, and I did not wish to betray her so after all she has done for me. But I also wish for her to live."

She paused, before turning her yellow eyes back onto him. This time, she met his gaze without hesitance.

"You love her." She murmured softly, her eyes tender while her thoughts lingered on a certain small black-haired mage.

It was not a question.

"Yes."

He answered anyway. More than anything, he loved her. The word rang sincere and true, reverberating in his quiet room.

"I am a selfish woman, as you well know. I wish for her to live, my only friend. Even if I must betray her, even if she were to despise me, I wish for her to live. And so I am here, certain that I wish to convince you to lie with me tonight. Do you wish for her to live?"

"More than anything." He whispered, words hoarse and grating.

"Even if you had to betray her?"

Alistair closed his eyes, feeling his guts twist within him. Would he sleep with Morrigan to save her? How did one make such a decision? Could he betray her like that? This was nothing like what they shared with Zevran. It was treachery. It was a dagger buried in her back.

He loved her so much that it hurt. His very heart ached at the thought of losing her. He could not live in a world that did not have her in it. Even if she hated him for this, even if she abhorred him until the Blight took them both, she would survive tomorrow. She would live.

Or she could die tomorrow, feeling nothing but her sweet love for him. She would cherish her memories of him, and pass from this world with her beautiful smile.

He wanted her to live. For once, he was going to be selfish.

"Yes." He wept, the vile words breaking his heart. "I will betray her, if she will live. I will lie with you tonight. I'll do it."

Each word tore at his soul, shattered the love he bathed her in. The cruelest betrayal, the most wicked treachery on the eve of her last night. His words shamed him, bled him.

But his love, his Sol would walk away from the battle tomorrow. No matter what happened, she would survive the archdemon.

Morrigan stepped towards the door, quietly closing it. The click of the door rang loudly in his silent room, making them both flinch.

He pressed his hands to his face, gritting his teeth to utter the next words.

"Let's get this over with."

The witch stepped back towards him, coming to stand next to him by the crackling hearth. Her hand brushed away his free-flowing tears and moved his own fingers away.

"You won't see me again after the battle. Of this I promise." She whispered, her own tears flowing again.

Then they leaned into each other and kissed.

He tried to imagine she tasted like oranges, like his Sol.

The correct speed of an army on a forced march should be more like 30 miles per day on good roads with good equipment and soldiers in really good shape. Cross-country it would be slower - how much slower would depend on the terrain.

The Fereldan army that's marching from Redcliffe to Denerim is very likely not well-equipped, we know that the Imperial Highway has big broken gaps in it all over the place, and these folks are mostly volunteers who might be in decent shape but not forced-march shape.

It's somewhere between 342 and 462 miles from Redcliffe to Denerim along the West Road, depending on which RPG distance guide you're using. So at 4 MPH for 8 hours per day, that would take between 10 and 15 days to march from Redcliffe to Denerim. The state of the roads and the soldiers would probably reduce their speed a bit, resulting in a speed more like 3 MPH and a travel time more along the lines of between 15 and 20 days.

You could conceivably have a smaller elite group, like our Wardens, that could travel much more quickly. However, even they would be unable to maintain a significantly faster speed or significantly longer days for more than a few days without dropping. If you laid in an amazingly huge supply of stamina potions, I guess you could conceivably move faster for longer periods.

Credit goes to valerie1972 at tumblr.