Chapter Three
Once More


Cerys stood frozen in front of Alistair's door. One hand clenched around her necklace, the other white-knuckled as it reached out to rap against the door. A sound, vaguely crashing, on the other side was followed by Alistair's appearance in the doorway, replacing the heavy wooden door.

"Cerys," he blinked, not quite believing that she was standing in front of him.

"Aye," she smiled softly, "Were you expecting the Archdemon?"

Her humor, although occasionally sarcastic, was something she had picked up from her time with Alistair. She had laughed before him, of course, but she had rarely made jokes of her own. It was not in her nature to be funny, or at least it had not been.

"Yes, although this is a pleasant surprise," he grinned, standing back to allow her entrance into the room. He had apparently knocked over a chair in his haste to stand to answer the door, which Cerys lifted by way of her foot. She looked like a dancer, he thought as he watched her move fluidly about the room. Perhaps she could have been one, if things had been different.

"Surprise? I thought I mentioned my intention of coming to visit you."

"You did, I just… I wasn't sure when, or if you would actually-"

"Have I ever broken a promise to you, Alistair?" She frowned a little, toying with the links of her necklace in front of her stomach. She held it between both hands, feeling the silverbark links against her fingertips.

"Oh, no – no, it isn't that. There's just so much for you to be doing, I thought maybe I'd fall by the wayside."

"Never," Cerys responded resolutely , taking a step closer to him. "You never have and you never will, Alistair."

Blush colored his cheeks as he looked over the ghost of a girl before him. Woman. Lady. She was beautiful with her elegant features, skin and hair separated only by a shade of gold. Her hair fell in sheets to her shoulders, left down from her braid while they were at court. She rarely let it down, even when amongst her people. She kept it long out of nostalgia, and Alistair loved it so. It wasn't far off from his own golden-brown, although he swore there was real gold woven through it. Like her eyes, they were the bluest of blues he had ever seen. They were like the sky, or the sea. Sapphires settled in her features, bright and wide and brilliant. He loved her eyes, more than anything. There was just something about the way that they shone, even after so long and so much death.

"I have…" Cerys began, eyes flitting from Alistair's to the necklace in her hand. Dropping one hand to her side, she lifted her left with the necklace in it. "This. I want you to have this, Alistair. It was my father's, or that is what I have been told."

They had spoken about her family, once – alone in the firelight, on their joint watch many months ago. It was after they had found Goldanna, the necklace, after Alistair realized he was truly alone in the world. Cerys could not stand to see him hurt so and, when he asked after her own family, she poured her heart out to him so that he would know he was not alone after all.

"Why do you want me to have it?" he asked her after a long moment, reaching his hand out to take the necklace from her. He held the pendant in his hand, tracing a thick finger over the intricate design. The green of the emerald was brilliant against his skin, the silverbark as bright as it had been the day it had been carved. It was an incredible material – shiny and strong like metal, malleable as wood.

"Someone should," she responded, feeling her stomach drop to her feet.

"What do you mean, Cerys?" Alistair's eyes narrowed and he looked at her again, taking a step closer to her and reaching the hand that didn't hold the necklace out as if he would touch her cheek. He stopped himself and sighed, shaking his head.

"You heard what Riordan said," her voice shook a little and she cleared her throat, trying to stay calm.
"I cannot let you die, Alistair. And I do not believe that Riordan will succeed."

"And you expect me to let you die?" he balked, this time his hand moving out to grasp her shoulder. "What kind of king would I be if I did?"

"The living kind," Cerys murmured, casting her eyes down. "Alistair, this is something I must do."

"But why? Why do you think you have to save me?"

"Because I cannot live in a world without you," she responded, looking back to him with tears in her eyes. Her voice was throaty with emotion and her lip quivered a little as she forced herself to press on. "The necklace is yours. To remember me."

"I could never forget," he breathed, daring to let his hand move from her shoulder to her cheek. Cerys closed her eyes at his touch, turning her cheek so that his hand covered most of the side of her face. "What I told you after we went back to Ostagar, Cerys, it's still true. I haven't stopped loving you."

"I…know," her voice hitched on the words and Alistair could feel the warm wetness of tears roll over his fingers, down his palm and catch in the cup it made against her skin. "And I cannot let you die, Alistair. Not while I have breath in me to stop it."

"But why?" Alistair pressed, his hand moving into her hair. His thumb remained on her cheek and he wiped gently at the tears as they fell. It was taking every ounce of willpower in him not to pull her close, crush her to him. "Why is my life more important than yours?"

"Because…" Cerys let out a shaky breath, lifting a hand to press against his warm chest. The movement caught him off guard but he did not dislike the feeling, not one bit. They had rarely been so close, expect perhaps in battle or for healing. Never had she touched him so lightly, tenderly. "Because that is how love feels, I imagine."

Alistair's breath caught in his throat. He froze against her, unwilling to believe what she had said. He let out the air from his lungs and gently tilted her head back, locking his eyes with hers. "What…what did you just say, Cerys?"

"Love," she responded, her tears dried now as she looked up at him. "I love you. I have loved you for as long as I can remember, Alistair."

He could not fathom how he ought to feel in those moments, the hand holding the necklace pressing the silverbark into her back as he pulled her closer. He held her close to him them, eyes searching hers for some sign of deceit. But she was not lying, nor would she. He knew her, knew her as well as she knew herself if not better. He knew that she was being honest, that she loved him quite like he loved her.

"Then why…" his voice was quiet, broken as he held her close, her head coming to rest against his chest. "Why have you waited so long to tell me? We could have been happy for all this time."

"I was," she replied, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. "Every day with you, every memory. I could not tell you for fear of what it might mean. I could not lose you, still cannot. You must live."

"And how do you expect me to live without you? Especially now?" He held her tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. And now she felt wetness in her hair. He was crying. Alistair sniffled lightly and kissed her forehead.

"This is why I could not tell you," she frowned against his chest, closing her eyes. "I worried that you would not let me do what was needed if you found out."

"Isn't it my job to protect you?" He sighed, letting go enough so that they could face each other again. They both knew that it didn't work like that. Quiet as she often was, Cerys was a fierce fighter and more than that, she was stubborn as anything. Alistair would have to pull some strings to keep her away from the killing blow – if it came to that. Maker willing, it wouldn't. Shaking his head a little, he settled the necklace down on the closest flat surface and held her hands between his hands. "Tell me again. I've always loved the way you speak."

"I love you, Alistair," she smiled, smoothing his shirt down lightly just to touch him.

"And I love you," he responded, watching her face for signs of apprehension as he leaned his closer. Quite the opposite was true and, just as hesitantly as he, Cerys pressed herself to her tip-toes and led their lips to meet for the first time, and the last night.