A/N: I apologize again for the delay in updating this story. Life has gotten in the way too much the past couple months and I haven't had much of a chance to really work on this. This is starting to change, thankfully.

Also, not quite sure what exactly Fanfiction is up to with story formatting, because it's not recognizing the breaks in the narrative. I'll have to find some way to fix this.


Chapter Nine

He sees the darkness inside you…

As a mage she could become an Abomination, and as a Grey Warden she bore the Taint of darkspawn. As they traveled through the overbearing silence of the Deep Roads, Gráinne's mind melded the images of Connor and Ruck into one being: a perverse, twisted creature with her face. That's what you will become, a voice spoke softly in the back of her mind. She tried desperately to push those thoughts aside, to ignore the growing whispers that told her she would fail, that she would never know love or happiness because she didn't deserve it. She relinquished all sleep because it only brought her nightmares.

It had become so much for her to bear. She wanted to give up, to simply walk away and let everyone else deal with the problems they had brought upon themselves. This was not the path she had chosen when she became a Grey Warden. Why did she always have to resolve everything?

During a brief stop to rest, as Gráinne reached into her pack for her water skin, her fingers brushed against something soft and velvety. She pulled out the rose that Alistair had given her, still as beautiful as the day it had been picked. She remembered the night he had given it to her, how she'd smiled at the fluttering in her stomach as she cast a preserving spell on the rose to maintain its beauty. She brushed the deep red petals against her nose and breathed in its rich scent.

I…I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness.

Slowly, the shadows began to withdraw, though she knew they would always remain.

When at last they emerged from the depths of the earth, Gráinne took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, as if she were breathing for the very first time. The sun was bright on the snows of the mountain and the sky was a brilliant azure. As Gráinne descended the stairs with Morrigan, Oghren, and Deimos at her side, Leliana came running up to them. She had chosen to return to the surface when the others went into the Deep Roads in order to listen for any news of Ferelden.

"Thank Andraste you are all right," she said. "I was so worried for you after hearing such dreadful stories of the Deep Roads."

"Has anything happened?" Gráinne asked.

"Thankfully, no, not since we went underground to Orzammar," Lelianna said. "We were only underground for five days."

Gráinne stared at her. "Only five?" She could have sworn she had spent a lifetime underground, buried beneath miles of earth and stone.

A deep moan erupted from Oghren as he stared at the sky, slowly turning in circles. Gráinne clamped her hand down on his shoulder to hold him still before he fell over.

"Our new stray," Morrigan said in response to Leliana's questioning look.

"Ancestor's tits, how do you surface dwellers deal with so much sky?" Oghren muttered.


The town of Redcliffe was still in the process of recovery when Gráinne returned with her companions. While many still mourned for all those that had been lost, the townspeople celebrated the miraculous recovery of Arl Eamon. Though Gráinne possessed little religious inclinations, she thanked the Maker, or whatever power that existed, for allowing Alistair to reach the Arl in time.

Soldiers greeted them in the main courtyard of Redcliffe Castle and, upon hearing their names, allowed them through. Bann Teagan met them, his face alight.

"Maker be blessed, you've returned," he said. "Eamon has recovered, thanks to you. We owe you a great debt, Warden."

"I am glad to hear that the Arl has been healed," Gráinne replied. "I only hope he will be willing to help us against Loghain."

"He has had a great deal to cope with, after everything that has happened," Teagan said. "But he does have a plan of action. He waits to speak with you in the main hall."

"Very well," she said. "Are there enough lodgings for the rest of my companions?"

"Certainly," Teagan said. "There should still be plenty of food left from the midday meal in the kitchens."

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Oghren declared. "I've had enough of this sodding travel food; give me some meat and ale!"

Teagan directed one of the servants to lead her companions to the kitchens, while he and Gráinne left for the main hall, where both Arl Eamon and Alistair awaited them. Alistair gave her an affectionate smile but made no move for physical contact, as decorum instructed. She returned the smile, though it wasn't as warm as he had hoped. Then again, they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms.

"Arl Eamon," Gráinne addressed with a bow.

"You are most welcome, Grey Warden," Arl Eamon returned. His face was gaunt from his illness, but his eyes still flashed with strength and vitality. "Alistair has told me of the risk you took in order to save me. You have not only saved my life but kept my family safe as well. I am in your debt."

"With all due respect, your grace, I am more concerned with dealing with Loghain," Gráinne said.

"Of course," the Arl agreed. "His actions are most troubling. He instigates a civil war even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man, one who never desired power."

"I was there when he announced he was taking control of the throne, Eamon," Teagan pointed out. "He is mad with ambition, I tell you."

"Mad indeed. Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands." Eamon sighed heavily. "Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to its bitter end."

"But you can unite the nobility against Loghain, can't you?" Gráinne asked.

"I could unite those opposing Loghain, yes. But not all oppose him. He has some very powerful allies."

"You both are well-respected among the nobility. Surely once they learn of his treachery you will be able to sway more of them to our side."

Arl Eamon shook his head. "We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

He slowly began to pace, then faced the large fireplace that heated the main hall, his back toward them. "We can spread word of his treachery, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen."

A lump formed in Gráinne's throat. Yes, it was as she expected.

Teagan stared at his brother. "Are you referring to Alistair, Brother? Are you certain?"

Arl Eamon faced them again. "I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative. But the unthinkable has occurred."

Alistair stood by her side, but she didn't dare turn to meet his gaze.

"Teagan and I have a claim through marriage, but we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain," Eamon continued. "Alistair's claim is by blood."

"And what about me?" Alistair exclaimed. "Does anyone care what I want?"

It doesn't matter what you want, Gráinne thought wearily. All that matters is what's required of you.

"You have a responsibility, Alistair," the Arl told him, echoing Gráinne's thoughts. "Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the sake of Ferelden. Is that what you want?"

Yes, guilt him into doing what you want.

"I…but I…" Alistair looked to the ground helplessly. "No, my lord."

Arl Eamon gave a satisfactory nod. "I see only one way to proceed. I will call for a Landsmeet in Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. It will take some time to recall my forces and organize our allies. I would prefer to wait until that is done before calling the Landsmeet. In the meantime, take your rest here in Redcliffe Castle. You and your companions have more than earned it."

Gráinne bowed. "Thank you, my lord." She turned to leave, sensing Alistair close behind her.

"Alistair, stay. I must speak with you."

Without glancing behind her, Gráinne left the room. Down the hall she could hear her reunited companions in the kitchen, talking and laughing. She wanted to join them, to eat and drink, to take a moment to enjoy the company of friends. But she was simply not capable of doing so. Exhaustion and pain did not permit it. She slowly climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, her armor becoming heavier with every step.

Alistair would be king. He would rule Ferelden and lead an army against the darkspawn. He would have a duty to his people, one that ultimately would not include her. She was not "suitable," she thought, smiling ruefully at the echo of her father's voice in that word. "Suitable." She was a mage and a Grey Warden, with no longer any ties to a claim of nobility. She had no political power, no wealth, nothing but a gift that even Alistair had been disdainful of.

Gráinne opened the door to her room and closed it behind her. She didn't want to think anymore; it was too much for her to handle at that moment with such little sleep. But as much as she wanted to lie down and sleep for the next week, the bathtub of steaming hot water in the corner of the room called to her even more. She couldn't remember the last time she had bathed properly and she was certain she smelled like it.

She seated herself on a chair and began to remove pieces of her armor, hesitating when she came to her breastplate. A battle with an ogre on the Deep Roads had resulted in a dislocated shoulder and the muscles were still sore, limiting her movement. Clenching her teeth, she reached to undo the straps of the breastplate, wincing at the renewed pain in her shoulder. It took a few moments and a number of deep, calming breaths, but at last she loosened the straps enough to slip the armor off. She then stripped off her soiled clothing, barely recognizable as anything more than scraps of fabric, and sunk into the bathtub. The hot water soothed her weary body, easing the tension from her muscles.

She wanted nothing more than to sit in the tub but sleep threatened too strongly to overtake her. Resignedly, Gráinne washed her hair and body, rinsed, and climbed out of the tub. She wrapped herself in the bathrobe the servants had provided for her and slipped beneath the covers of the bed, not even bothering to get dressed. Sleep took her within moments.


"Well, go on." The door made a slight creak.

It took a moment before Gráinne realized she had woken up. She couldn't have been asleep long; she could still sense behind her eyelids the daylight that streamed through the windows. She kept her eyes shut and listened as the door was quietly closed and a familiar sniffing sound echoed through the room.

"See, she's fine. She's tired, that's all," a voice whispered. Footsteps drew closer.

"No, you cannot jump on the bed," the voice said firmly. "You haven't had a bath yet, and trust me, you do not want to get on Agnes' bad side for dirtying the bedding."

His words were followed by a pitiful whine.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure your mistress wouldn't appreciate it that much either."

"Oh, I don't know," Gráinne murmured. "You didn't smell much better and I still let you into my bed." She opened her eyes and smiled at Alistair.

"Yes, well, at least I don't drool, have fleas, or hump your leg."

Gráinne gave him a meaningful look.

Alistair sighed. "It's happened. Morrigan's called me a dog so much I'm beginning to turn into one."

Deimos gave a happy bark as Gráinne bit back her laughter.

"You're still not jumping on the bed," he told the Mabari. "You're due for your bath anyhow, and you do not want to keep Agnes waiting."

"You better go, Deimos," Gráinne said, reaching out to scratch him behind the ears. "This Agnes sounds worse than the archdemon."

"If I had a choice, I would gladly deal with the archdemon over that woman," Alistair said as he let Deimos out of the room. He came back to the side of the bed and knelt by it. "I'm sorry if we woke you, but he insisted."

"It's all right."

"And I'm sorry for what I said to you that night on the mountain," he continued. "It wasn't fair of me to corner you like that, not when you've been under so much pressure." His gaze turned to the floor. "I suppose soon enough I'll know what that's like."

Gráinne didn't respond. She didn't want to think of it, not yet. "Come lie with me," she said gently.

Alistair kicked off his boots and settled onto the other side of the bed to lie beside her. She turned to face him, taking care to keep from straining her shoulder.

Alistair winced slightly when her robe shifted to reveal the bruise. "You should have Wynne look at that."

"It's healing," she replied. "And it looks worse than it feels. Mostly."

His fingers brushed against her cheek. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He pressed a light kiss to her lips. Despite its innocence, the touch of his lips still managed to spark her desire, but her exhaustion wouldn't allow her to take it any further. However, she was more than content to lie in his arms and fall back asleep.