Chapter 9: Of Love and Loss

As Alistair left the chantry, he nodded absently to the two Royal Guards posted outside. "Just make sure she gets to bed at a reasonable hour."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guards muttered sleepily in reply. Alistair glanced up and recognized one of them as Bann Perrin's son. It's a good thing the darkspawn are gone, he thought to himself. He didn't exactly trust the nobles' children to risk life and limb if any real danger were around.

Just down the hall, elves frantically scoured the rugs and stones as he passed. Even though the corpses had been removed, it still looked as if the palace hallway had been turned into a slaughterhouse. Pools of blood soaked through the carpeting, and the walls were speckled red, as if a child had twirled round and round with a bucket of paint. The servants doubled their efforts as they spotted the king.

Alistair felt sick to his stomach as he looked over the mess. The sight of blood had ceased bothering him long ago, but this was the first time he was faced with the thought that his daughter's blood could easily have been mingled there. He felt like he had failed her in many ways. I should have been the one protecting her, he thought, not out playing the hero. The thought of losing his precious Lyana was one that was difficult to bear.

The twisting in his stomach brought back memories of the first time the grim possibility of death had truly hit him. After all, he had almost lost Elissa once, many years ago. During the Blight, they had encountered a fearsome darkspawn in the Deep Roads. The dwarves had whispered tales about him, calling him the Forge Master, for he seemed to be responsible for crafting the weapons and armor that the creatures were never in short supply of. They found him working deep in the Dead Trenches, surrounded by kilns and lackeys. They were outnumbered, but Elissa was high on victory, and didn't hesitate to charge in when they were spotted.

The darkspawn rushed them, surrounding them as Elissa and Alistair fought side by side, hacking away at the writhing black mass. Nearby, Zevran cursed loudly as a thick, wicked-looking arrow suddenly pierced his thigh, pulling him out of the shadows. Elissa fought her way over to him, covering him with her shield as Morrigan snapped the arrow free and quickly bandaged it, muttering about the elf's apparent carelessness.

The Forge Master pulled his massive bow back for another shot, one that managed to pierce straight through Elissa's metal shield, barely missing her forearm. With a rage-filled yell, she rushed towards the darkspawn leader, sword cocked back for a swing. Alistair had tried to yell for her to wait, but he knew that their impulsive leader wouldn't have listened anyway. Locked into battle with a towering hurlock alpha himself, he could only watch from the corner of his eye as the Forge Master grabbed a massive hammer from the wall and countered Elissa's strikes with shattering blows.

The hurlock alpha distracted him, and he did not look back towards Elissa until an ear shattering crash echoed through the chamber. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he turned, watching as the Forge Master's hammer continued its swing, Elissa's head snapping to the side like a rag doll beneath her helmet. She fell to the ground, even as the Forge Master stumbled back itself, Elissa's blade stuck in its side. Seconds turned into agonizing eternities, and still she didn't move. The Forge Master pulled her blade free and stood over her, raising his hammer behind his head to deliver a final, crushing blow to her skull.

He remembered yelling, a sound that seemed to come both from him and emanating from the walls at the same time. Alistair sliced through the alpha and raced towards the Forge Master. Seconds before he could get there, Zevran seemed to appear out of nowhere from the shadows behind the darkspawn, wrapping his arms across the creature's shoulders and stabbing both his daggers deep into its chest. He spat in the monster's face as it limply fell to the earth beneath his arms.

He and Zevran had reached Elissa's side at the same time, locking eyes for a moment across her body. Zevran scowled and cursed under his breath, though he quickly stood and gave Alistair his space. He paced in the background, anxiously twirling his blades as he watched them.

Alistair picked Elissa up in his arms and gingerly pulled off her helmet, wincing as he saw the blood matting her brown hair. Her head hung back limply in his arms, but he could see the shallow rising and falling of her chest, and a lump unexpectedly formed in his throat.

"Well, is she breathing?" Morrigan had asked impatiently, arms folded across her chest as she towered over them. Alistair had only managed a nod, and she gave him an exasperated sigh. "If she's breathing, she'll be fine. Just a rather nasty headache in the morning." She rolled her eyes as she bent over to rummage through her pack. "Men…"

Elissa's eyes had fluttered open as she groaned, her hand instinctively reaching for her head. She groggily met Alistair's eyes. "It's…over, I suppose?" she asked him.

Alistair gave her a small smile. "I would say 'I told you so,' but somehow you'd probably find the strength to smack me."

"Smart man." Elissa tried to grin, but she choked on her own blood, and Morrigan hurried over to help her lay on her side.

They had made camp right there for the night, warmed and illuminated by the glowing forges. Morrigan had quickly banished Alistair from Elissa's side as she worked her healing magic. But even though he trusted Morrigan to take care of her…barely…he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. Alistair tried his best to ignore Zevran, who had spent his time silently, obsessively sharpening his knives all evening, and always seemed to do so more furiously when Elissa glanced in Alistair's direction with a weak smile.

Strong, beautiful, a teyrn's daughter…she could have had anyone she wanted. He had seen the way Zevran and Leliana had looked at her, and more than a few uncomfortable drunken glances from Oghren as well. Even Morrigan occasionally seemed to bristle with jealousy as she took up her usual lonely spot at camp, far away from the others. And while Alistair would never know exactly why Elissa chose him, it was that night in the Deep Roads that he realized how much he loved her. He had told her he loved her before, many times in fact, since that first night she had agreed to accompany him to his tent. But it was not until he realized he could have lost her that he began to understand how deep those feelings ran.

It was his love for her that had pushed him to do the unthinkable with Morrigan that fateful night before facing the Archdemon. His willingness to put their love before his sense of duty had surprised him, and he still felt an occasional twinge of guilt from the act. But all he could think about that night was the fight that would have to follow once they reached Denerim. Elissa would probably have tried to leave him standing at the gate, because they both knew he would never allow her to sacrifice herself, not if there was any breath left in him to stop it.

And yet, even as he thought about that night in the Deep Roads, or the seemingly unending battle against the Archdemon and its darkspawn horde, none of it seemed to clench his heart quite as much as the thought of losing his only daughter. I'm probably just getting old, Alistair thought, forcefully jolting himself out of his memories. He took one last disgusted look around the room.

"Just throw the rug out!" he angrily barked to the servants. "All of it. That darkspawn blood isn't about to come out anyway." His tone softened as he heard himself. "And get to bed. There will be plenty of time for this in the morning."

The elves quickly stood and bowed subserviently, and Alistair excused himself from the bloody hallway. The sound of familiar voices drifted towards him, and he followed them to where the group huddled, conversing in muted tones.

"I just don't understand where they came from," Elissa remarked.

Oghren snorted. "Out of the ground. Where have you been the last thousand years?"

"That's not what I meant," Elissa replied with a roll of her eyes. She had yet to remove her armor, bloodstained though it was. She emphatically moved her hands around as she spoke, as if on the verge of pacing. "We've barely seen more than a small raiding party for years, and none anywhere close to civilization. I find it hard to believe they managed to mount an attack on the capitol by themselves. Something isn't right here."

"Beg pardon, Your Majesty," Garrett, the Warden-Commander, interrupted. "Are you suggesting that someone was directing the darkspawn? Those that I saw in the square seemed more intent on causing chaos and confusion, not achieving some sort of goal." He shook his head. "Besides, it is far too early for another Blight. It's only been 25 years. I find it difficult to believe the darkspawn managed to unearth one of the two remaining gods so soon."

Elissa shifted uncomfortably, glancing up at Alistair as he approached. He was pretty sure he could read her thoughts. "Perhaps," Elissa continued. "Still, I want the Grey Wardens to be on regular patrols throughout Ferelden. And send messengers to Orzammar and the Dalish, telling them to keep on the lookout for any unusual activity." She glanced up at Leliana. "Have you had any trouble in Orlais?"

"Not in many years," Leliana replied soothingly. "I believe you are worrying too much about this, no? These darkspawn were not organized. You saw them yourself. They were nothing short of chaotic, and when the tide was against them, they turned and fled. When the Archdemon commanded them, they fought to the last man, to the death. Surely you have not forgotten so quickly?"

Elissa shook her head in response, though she was unable to rid herself of the persistent, nagging feeling that there was more to the story. She stifled a sudden yawn with her hand. "I suppose talking about it won't make the problem go away, or make the night any younger," she finally said. "Thank you all for your help today. And Garrett, please send word to Darien that we wish to thank him personally soon. I believed he helped save this country today without knowing it."

Garrett bowed. "I will tell him, Your Majesty." They all began to disperse back towards their rooms, and Alistair took the opportunity to put his arm around his wife's waist. He kissed the side of her head and led her back towards their the royal bedroom.

"Alistair…do you think…?" Elissa began quietly.

"That we did the wrong thing?" Alistair asked, meeting her eyes. He knew their minds were both racing back to that selfish choice on the eve of battle. "You don't know if this has anything to do with that. We've been jumping at shadows for twenty-five years, lying to the Grey Wardens and peeking around every corner, just waiting for that decision to come back and bite us."

As they entered the bedroom, Alistair moved around behind Elissa and pulled out the clip that held her hair. He watched as it fell in dark, soft curls around her shoulders, just the way he liked it. "You know, maybe they attacked here simply because that is what they do. They set things on fire and drag people away, and you've got a hundred Grey Wardens all packed into one place, like some sort of darkspawn beacon. 'Party over here' and all that."

Elissa turned around and slipped her arms around her husband's neck. "You were always good at making sense, even when I don't believe a thing you say," she told him with a sad smile.

"You obviously aren't listening very well, then are you?" Alistair replied, kissing her softly. The distant sound of whining and scratching caught their attention. "Your dog seems to be at it again," he remarked.

"I put Odin in Lyana's room to keep her safe," Elissa explained. "She's probably just getting in to bed. Or he still smells the darkspawn blood everywhere. I had almost forgotten how foul it was."

"As had I," he agreed, pointing out the spatter on her armor.

"You know, I think I needed that battle," she confessed to her husband. "After the nightmares lately…I needed to remind myself that I am not like them."

"I know what you mean," Alistair said softly. "For now though, my love, I believe it is time to get some rest and stop worrying that pretty little head of yours. I can see you drawing up battle plans as we speak."

Elissa scrunched her nose. "That obvious?"

"Quite." Alistair moved to start untying the laces that held her breastplate in place. "I will send Oghren to Orzammar on behalf of the Grey Wardens tomorrow, and even tell him to take Felsi to make sure he is on his best behavior. I'm sure Garrett can find someone suitable to speak to the Dalish."

"Perhaps Zevran should look after Lyana for a few days, at least at night when there are fewer eyes watching," Elissa added.

"Did I really hear you say you want Zevran to be anywhere near our daughter's bedroom at night?" Alistair asked incredulously.

Elissa laughed. "He is not as bad as you think, Alistair. Zevran can be surprisingly respectful when necessary."

"So you say…," Alistair replied, unconvinced. He finished unlacing Elissa's breastplate and slipped it over her head. A simple tunic underneath managed to both hide and accentuate her curves at the same time. "You know, I never tire of taking your armor off," he grinned.

"Perhaps we should check on Lyana first?" Elissa asked.

"She's fine. I sent two guards with her." Alistair pulled a reluctant Elissa towards the bed and she easily gave in. He kissed her gently. "You know, fighting ogres always reminds me of our first date."

"Alistair, I've told you a thousand times that the Tower of Ishal does not count as a first date."

"Really? Because just before that I remember a romantic fire, and talk of dressing up and dancing the Remigold together."

Elissa shook her head with a wry grin. "That was you," she whispered.

Alistair laughed and rolled over on top of her in bed. "Such ridiculous stories you come up with, my dear." And before she could argue, he silenced her with a long kiss.

Distant in the background, Odin continue to whine and paw at Lyana's door, but his efforts were tuned out and in vain. The castle lights faded one by one, and two soldiers drifted off to sleep at their posts outside the chantry door. Far below the palace gates, a single darkspawn darted through the shadows on the edge of empty streets, the blond hair in its arms glinting in the moonlight.

And then all was quiet.