The Price We Pay

Elly bolted down the hallway to meet the arriving forces from the gates. The troops not engaged in sweeping the city had been trickling in all day. She'd nearly gone mad with frustration when, one after another, they weren't the group she was waiting for. But now they were finally here.

"Alistair!" She unceremoniously dragged him away from the others. "Alistair, please tell me you know where Riordan's papers are. And the key he gave us to decrypt them, in case he…"

"And good to see you as well. I'm doing alright too, thank you for asking."

"Alistair!" she snapped before he could continue along that vein.

The show of humor dropped from his face, to be replaced by exhaustion. "Alright. Why don't you tell me what's going on."

She launched into her explanation. "Some of the soldiers are sick with the taint. From the battle. Not all the cases are dire. But the ones that are, if we offer them the Joining… We might be able to save a few of them. And start rebuilding the Grey Wardens."

"Some of the soldiers," he repeated, eyeing her critically.

It seemed to burst from her without volition. "Cullen! Cullen is sick. Alistair, please…"

"Ah," he replied, considering. "The encryption notes I kept with me. The copies of the Joining ritual should still be at our camp outside the city." He paused, watching her carefully. "I can send for them, if you really think this is a good idea. But you must realize, the chances aren't good."

With nothing to do now but wait, the frantic energy drained from her. Despair rose up in its place. "I know," she told him. "But I have to try."

By the time Riordan's papers were brought to her, Elly had already collected vials of blood from darkspawn and the archdemon itself. She supposed they'd have to collect and preserve all they could from the dragon, but there'd be time for that later. She'd carried some lyrium and her own bag of potion-making supplies into the room she'd had cleared for her use.

She wanted to hurry, hurry, but she forced herself to carefully read the papers. A mistake might prove more fatal than delay. It felt like it took her forever and she was sure it'd be too late, but finally she finished.

While she'd worked, Alistair had gone to the infirmary to explain their offer to the sickest of the soldiers. They had the choice to certainly die (if not something worse) or probably die. Most chose the latter and began to trickle in, with or without assistance. Elly made the helpers leave once their charges were settled into the room. She was just starting to worry that maybe Cullen wouldn't even come, when Alistair entered the room with the templar in tow. Her fellow Warden gave them a moment of privacy while he gathered the other soldiers around the center of the room.

Elly could tell Cullen was still angry with her, but above all he looked very sick. "Cullen," she whispered. "If things don't go well… I just wanted you to know. I love you."

He sighed weakly. "I've always loved you. How fitting it would be the death of me."

The last comment gnawed at her. She looked at him questioningly, but he'd closed up again. And they were running out of time. Solemnly, they joined the rest of the group.

"This is your last chance to change your mind," she told them. "And then we'll lock the door, and it won't be unlocked until every single one of you has gone through the ritual."

It was far worse than she could have imagined. So many, most of them in fact, died. But she was forced to go on, relentlessly, and offer to each one a sip of death. The few that survived were placed on palettes by the doorway. The bodies were dragged to the far end of the room.

Cullen came forward last of all, as if to torment her as much as possible. The crushing pain in her chest denied her breath as she watched him drink. He shook and started to sink to his knees and she went with him, desperately clutching him as if she could physically hold him in this world. When his breathing finally steadied and his eyes twitched with dreams, she found herself sobbing with relief.

Neither Elly nor Alistair could find much time to spare for the new Wardens in the month that followed. Elly supposed they'd have to wait for the arrival of the other Wardens to begin their training. She felt bad about neglecting them, but she had to fulfill the promise she'd made Alistair after Landsmeet. She couldn't refuse him when he'd all but begged her to stay and help him. Not when she'd been the one to put him in the situation. And she couldn't go back on her promise. Not when she owed her life to him agreeing to do Morrigan's ritual for her.

When the palace district had been cleared and given what quick repairs they could offer, a coronation ceremony was announced. Alistair and Anora were to be presented as King and Queen. And afterward, there'd be a celebration to honor those who'd stopped the Blight.

Elly wished she could skip the celebration, but she guessed it was the closest thing to a rest day she was going to get. She'd expected a break after killing the archdemon, but it turned out there were a million things that needed to be done and none of them could wait. So she attended without too much complaint. Though when Alistair called her up to the dais, she made a face at him when only he could see it.

After Alistair's speech, she was free to roam, and she finally managed to corner Cullen. She didn't know if he'd been avoiding her or if her busy schedule was to blame, but she'd seen him only rarely over the past month. Though he was now a Grey Warden, he could still call up that rigid templar stance, and he used it like a shield against her.

She was disappointed by his reaction, but steeled herself to continue anyway. "I was hoping we could talk, while we have the chance. Things have been so chaotic."

His stoic expression cracked just a little. "I heard you plan to stay in Denerim."

"I'll help Alistair, at least until things are running smoothly again. Though Maker knows how long that will take. We've lost so much…" She feared she was about to lose even more. "You… You could stay here too."

He shook his head, and even though she'd expected it, it tore at her. "When the Orlesian Wardens arrive, I'll be going with them to Amaranthine."

"I see." She wanted desperately to see the real him again, not this mask he wore of grimness and coldness and death. "Cullen, was it really so wrong of me to want to live?"

His mouth clenched, but he didn't seem able to tell her it was wrong. He shook his head.

It was just a tiny ray of hope, but she clung to it, trying to find her way out of the darkness. "Do you think you'll ever be able to forgive me?"

"I don't know," he sighed.

Just a week shy of a year after the archdemon's death, Elly excused herself from court. Under the tutelage of Anora, Alistair had grown into his role as king. The royal couple was already much loved by their subjects, and now they'd seemed to reach an understanding between themselves.

The journey to Redcliffe was an uneventful one. If the guards were surprised when she, upon arriving, cut down to the village instead of up to the castle, they didn't mention it to her.

She was halfway through the village when she saw him, standing like a statue by the lake. He was where she'd found him the day she'd returned with the sacred ashes. But he wasn't staring out at the water this time. Instead he watched the path that cut through the village, looking for all the world like he was waiting for someone to come walking down it.

Note: The story now continues in The Mage's Vigil, set during the Awakening time period.