Redcliffe castle was so very quiet, despite every room being full. Soldiers of all types, men, elves, dwarves, even mages were piled in every corner and every nook and cranny. Thankfully, Eamon had given a wing of the second floor to Aine and her companions alone, although the space might have been used better. Aine could have gotten on her knees to thank Eamon and Andraste for that. With the hallway deserted, no one had to see the pathetic and decidedly unheroic look on her face as she slowly dragged her feet back to her room. Alone.

Riordan's words played over and over in her mind, loud as a scream.

"A darkspawn is an empty soulless creature. A Gray Warden is not. The essence of the archdemon will travel into the taint in the Gray Warden and be destroyed, but so will the Gray Warden."

Aine shuddered.

She'd left Alistair in his own room for the moment; he'd been too distracted to even ask if she was going to return before morning. His face had been as pale and wan as her own was, she supposed. She could almost see what was going through his mind. If Riordan fell . . . she'd have to kill Alistair herself to stop him from taking that final blow. He may be willing to defer to her in many things, but there were some things he wouldn't stand for. And she knew to the depths of her soul that this would be one of them.

Frankly, Aine could care less about ruling Ferelden, so having no claim to the throne without him . . . didn't matter. She'd only suggested it, well, to propose to him. Sort of a convoluted way to do it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. And marrying Alistair? That still seemed like a great idea. Yet now, the chances of that seemed so far away. That was why she'd gone off on her own, to stumble back to her own room. How could she look into his eyes and see that unbearable willingness to die for Ferelden and for her? How much was she going to have to give up before this was over? She lost her family, her titles, her peace . . . she'd lost the chance at a long life. She'd lost her home. Her brother. Ser Gilmore. A bed. And now Alistair and her own life as well?

She closed the door to her room behind her and leaned against it heavily. Just as she was about the slide down on to the floor and sob herself into stupidity, a shadow near the fire moved. Unconsciously, she grabbed the hilt of the dagger on her belt. It made a slick sound as she slid it from the leather.

"Do not be alarmed," Morrigan said, "'Tis only I." Aine gritted her teeth and slammed the dagger back into the scabbard.

"Andraste's holy knickers, don't do that." She paused and cocked her head. "Is something wrong?"

"I am fine," Morrigan continued. "But I would imagine you are not. I know what Riordan told you."

Aine snorted. "Why am I not surprised? Why didn't you tell me? I'm sure you knew all along."

"Would you have believed me?"

"I would have; you're my friend. No matter what Alistair thinks of you, I am rather fond of you," Aine replied. "Now, I can't say that he would have believed you, but I'm sure I could have convinced him."

"Persuasion is a skill you may want to use soon," Morrigan said. She smiled sadly. "Because I would hate for you to die. And although the two of you together makes me ill, I know that you love your slightly dim-witted King, and would prefer that neither of you die."

"You think?" Aine spat, but then thought better of it. "I'm sorry; it's not your fault."

"No, it is not. But I do have a way out. The loop in your hole, as it were."

"What do you mean?" Aine rushed across the room in a panic, grabbing Morrigan by the shoulders.

Morrigan reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of Aine's eyes. She looked so . . . sad, which was a very foreign look for Morrigan's face. Aine knew touching was not high on her list of pleasurable activities, but Morrigan didn't pull her hand away, just left it softly on the side of Aine's face.

"You are my friend," Morrigan said. "Which I certainly never expected. And I appreciate that more than you will know. But I have stayed with you for other reasons than friendship. Flemeth sent me with you for a reason. But that reason could save your life, and Alistair's."

"Well, spit it out already!"

Morrigan pulled away then and looked back into the fire. "It is a ritual, performed on the eve of battle, in the dead of night. A ritual that will make it so no Gray Warden must die to destroy the archdemon."

"Let's do it," Aine said quickly.

"Let me finish," Morrigan continued, "Before you choose."

"I don't care. Blood magic, kill an elven servant or maybe Zevran? Whatever. It don't care. I have lost too much already, and to the Black City with being a hero. Enough is enough, I will do whatever you ask," Aine said.

Morrigan sighed. "So be it. Then you must ask Alistair to lay with me."

"WHAT?!" Aine screamed. "Are you mad?"

"Shhhh!," Morrigan hushed. "Do not wake the entire castle with your shouting."

"But . . but," Aine stuttered. "I thought this was some ritual, not a cheap excuse to get in Alistair's pants."

"Ha!" Morrigan snorted, "I have no more desire for that act with him than he does with me, I am sure. But it is the only way. If Alistair lay with me tonight, a child will be created in me. A child that bears the taint. At this early stage, the soul of the Old God than animates the archdemon will be able to pass into the child . . . and not destroy it. But it will be without the dark forces the corrupted it."

"Wait," Aine said. "You want to . . . have a child . . . with Alistair? And it will take the soul of the archdemon into it, instead of one of us?"

"Yes," Morrigan said.

"I . . . I don't know what to say. How would I ever convince Alistair of this? Why didn't you just ask him yourself?"

"Because he despises me, and you know it. But if you asked, he would do as you request. Especially if he thinks if might save you."

"But I . . . ," Aine said, meeting Morrigan's eyes. A single tear fell down Aine's cheek. It surprised her. With a half smile, Morrigan brushed the tear away with her thumb and even more surprisingly, kissed Aine's cheek.

"I have no desire to have your Alistair for myself. Once this happens and the battle is over, I will go. All I ask is that you do not follow. The child will be mine," Morrigan said.

"Don't you think Alistair might want to see his child?"

"He may, but he cannot. It is all I ask. As much as I do not want to leave the only friend I have ever had, I must do this. And I am sorry, but if you say no, I will leave tonight."

"Maker's breath, Morrigan," Aine sighed. "Nothing's ever half-way with you, is it?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Aine said. "But let me go talk to Alistair."

"By the Maker, I'm glad you came back," Alistair said, closing the door behind her. He kissed Aine's cheek and in the same spot that Morrigan had just a moment before. Aine closed her eyes. "I thought you might leave me here to pace a rut in the floor by myself."

"No," Aine said. "I just needed a moment."

"Is this about Morrigan?" he asked. Aine's head snapped up.

"What?"

"I saw her skulking outside your room before we went to talk to Riordan. She gave me a look. Well, let's say it was icy for even her. Something is up," he said.

"What else is new, eh?" She replied.

"You have a point," he said. He leaned against the frame of the bed and crossed his ankles. "So are you going to tell me?"

Aine swallowed. "You know I love you, right?"

"Could you make it sound more ominous? Just tell me."

"There is a way . . . there is a way for neither of us to have to die to kill the archdemon."

"If you mean running away, you know I can't do that," he said. "But you don't mean that do you? What's this about?"

"A ritual," she said softly.

"Ah, something Morrigan cooked up? What do we have to do?"

"I need you to do something . . . something I don't think you are going to like."

"Out with it, woman. You're making me crazy," Alistair said. "More crazy than usual, anyway."

"I need you to . . . I need you to lay with Morrigan," Aine finally managed to say.

"I have to what?" Alistair said, his eyes wide as saucers.

"You heard me," she sighed. "And I don't like it either, but I like the idea of you dead even less."

"Let me get this right, you want me to participate is some sex ritual with Morrigan?" He sat down heavily on the bed. "Are you sure? What does this even mean?"

"I won't lie to you, it will create a child," Aine said.

"What?!" Alistair spat, but managing to do it more quietly than Aine had. "Morrigan wants to have my what?"

"The child will take on the soul of the archdemon, but without the taint. The taint will be destroyed, instead of the child. Instead of one of us," Aine explained.

Alistair stood up, paced halfway across the room and back. He sat down again, hard, the bed creaking in protest. "Are you sure this is what you want me to do?"

"Please, " Aine sobbed, kneeling down on the floor and resting her head in his lap. "I don't want to lose you too."

Alistair sighed as her stoked her hair. "I don't want to lose you either." Aine looked up at him. His face was grim. He pushed her away and got to his feet. "All right then. Let's go talk to Morrigan . . . before . . . before I change my mind."

Aine sat on the floor in front of the fire, staring into the flicking flames and tried not to think about what was happening in Alistair's room, just down the hall. What was taking so long?

"Maker's breath," she muttered to herself. "Of all the things . . . ."

If she'd been asked, at any point in her life before this day, if she would have been willing to die for what I was right and good in the world, she would have said yes. And her own life? She would still have given it. But she'd never loved before; not like this. And her own life was one thing, but she wouldn't give his life for anything.

She wished Duncan was here. But then thought better of it. Duncan would be so disappointed in her for letting this happen. A child with the soul of an Old God. Andraste's ass, that might end up being worse than a Blight. Aine only hoped the taint and Orzamar's darkspawn would have done their duty and slaughtered her before that happened.

Behind her the door swung open and closed. She took a deep breath and turned around. Alistair stood at the door, his hair wet, wearing only his pants with his shirt draped over his arm. A few drops of water slid down his arms. She realized what had taken so long. He looked like he'd dunked himself under water, presumably to try to wash away what he'd just done with Morrigan from the look in his eyes.

Aine scrambled to her feet and went to him, but hesitated to touch him. He stared at her blankly. A cold wind blew through Aine's heart. What had she done? What if this was worse than death? Had this killed something inside of him?

Then, suddenly, he smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Well, that was pathetic," he said softly. "Thank the Maker I never have to do that again."

"Sex or sex with Morrigan?" Aine asked, forcing a grin.

Alistair cocked an eyebrow. "Very funny," he said. The smile on his face crumbled. "Unless you don't want me anymore."

"Of course I want you," Aine said, finally touching him. Just the tips of her fingers on his shoulders, but it sent him into motion. He slid down to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his head against her breasts.

"Good," he said. "Because I want you, right now. I want to get rid of her touch on me and have yours instead." He looked up at her.

With a crooked grin, Aine slipped down on to her knees, still in the circle of his arms. "Are you sure you are up for that?"

"Trust me when I say yes," he replied, standing suddenly and scooping Aine up into his arms like she was a child. "But this time, you have to follow my lead," he said as he tossed her on to the bed. "I've got some issues to deal with you see," he continued. He crawled onto the bed over her.

Aine looked up at him, amazed at the merry and lustful look in his eyes. He'd continually amazed her in the last months, since he'd finally taken her to his tent. There was more about him to learn than she ever expected. Then he kissed her and she stopped thinking about anything but his touch. Whatever guilt she'd been plagued with fled like the darkness before the dawn.