Ostagar was terrible. I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened here, and who should really have died here. We were camped outside of Haven now, perhaps a day outside the village, but I couldn't expect Alistair to take another step. He had withdrawn back into himself, but I couldn't exactly blame him. We'd found Duncan's sword and dagger on the battlefield and then to be the ones to send Cailan off... that had been the last straw for him. I could see it in the way he walked back to camp that night and in the way he sat, dejected, near his tent and away from the group.

I made my way towards him, making it look like I wasn't trying to bother him. "I was thinking about getting some training in before I head to sleep... Care to join me?" I looked down at him, with my hands on my hips.

He eyed me carefully, "Are you sure? Wouldn't Leliana or Zevran be more suited for..."

I interrupted him, shaking my head vigorously, "Normally yes. But I've got some pent up anger only a Grey Warden can handle." I squatted next to him, showing my plethora of throwing knives and daggers, "I always trained with my brother and Ser Gilmore. Don't be afraid of hurting me." I watched his face. His eyes shifted around the camp, and then he nodded, hefting his newly acquired sword and shield. "I saw a small clearing just past those trees," I said, standing, "The light's better over there anyway." He was still silent, but walked to where I'd pointed and waited for me to follow. I glanced over at Wynne as I walked past her, and smiled grimly. I was going to get him talking again even if it took a few cuts to do it.

We circled each other for a good hour, every few moments he or I would lunge and swing at the other. I had exhausted my supply of throwing knives, and was about to resort to a small trick Zevran had taught me when Alistair held up his hand and took a knee. "Wait... please. Let me take a breath." he jabbed Maric's sword into the dirt and let Cailan's shield drop onto the frozen ground as he knelt. "You're good." he breathed, watching me closely.

I shrugged, "So I've been told." I took a few steps towards him, "Are you ready to talk about it?" His head snapped up, and he was instantly on his feet.

"No."

I sighed and brought up one of my daggers beneath his chin, "If you don't it'll eat you up inside."

He raised an eyebrow at me, "Oh? And what about you? Are you willing to talk about what happened to you?"

I set my jaw and pressed the flat of my dagger against his throat. "That's different."

He scoffed, "How?" he tossed my arm wide, trying his best to be menacing. It was working though. I dropped the dagger and took a few steps backwards, but I don't think he registered it.

"They were my family."

His eyes blazed, and he lifted his sword. I hadn't been watching as carefully as I should have, when did he get that back? The point was just beneath my chin as he growled, "And the Grey Wardens were mine." I held still, waiting for him to do something. I really hoped he would chose to drop the sword, but he didn't. We stood that way for another moment before I braved stepping closer, bringing a finger up to run along the swords edge and gently pushing it away from me as I got closer to him.

"We've both lost family, Alistair. We both need to move beyond it."

I watched him swallow, and then his arm lowered, the sword clattering onto the ground. "I don't think I can." I smiled sadly up into his face.

Why is it that men have to be so much danged taller than me!

"I don't think I can either."

His face crumpled and he fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands as he started to sob. It was heartbreaking, but something he had to do. I knelt in front of him and gathered him into my arms, as much as I could. I rested my forehead against his crown and whispered, "I know, Alistair. I know. He meant a lot to me too." I felt his arms wrap around me and he pulled me into a tight hug. I could barely breathe, but I knew he needed this release.

How long we stayed that way, just holding each other I'll never know. But thank the Maker it was Leliana who came to get us.

My birthday dawned bright and clear, which I found to be surprising considering all the tales my father used to tell me about the day I was born.

"There was this great blizzard, pup. Worse than any that most mages can summon. The flakes were this big!" He would hold up my child sized hand and wait for me to gasp in wonder, "And the healer that was supposed to help your mother couldn't get here. Time would just drag on and on..." I would smile widely then and squeal, "And then the storm broke!" And then he would smile and kiss the top of my head, hug me close and say, "Yes, and then the storm broke and you were born."

It was a story that he loved to tell, and I loved to hear it when I was young. As I grew older and I learned the finer details of being a grown woman, I learned that what my father had so happily told me wasn't anywhere near the honest truth. But it was still a great story, and I thought about it the entire trek up the pass to Orzammar. I thought I'd gotten away with it, not telling any of my friends that it was my birthday, that I was able to spend the day with happy memories, but...

We were just finishing dinner when Leliana plunked a paper and twine wrapped object into my lap and sat next to me, her movements still a little awkward from her tumble four days earlier. "What's this?" I asked, holding it in front of her face.

She shrugged, "Why does it have to be anything?" I gave her a look and rolled my eyes. Soon the paper was on the ground as I held in my hands a bottle of some of the finest Orlesian bath oils I had ever seen. My jaw dropped as I uncorked the bottle and took a slow sniff. "Lilac... and lavender... Leliana where did you get the money to buy this?" I stared at the bard in awe, "I know exactly how much money we have in that purse and there is no way we had enough to afford..."

Leliana's face broke into a wide smile, "Remember our conversation about the fine things I had in Orlais?" I nodded slowly, "Well, when I left, I could afford to take only a few things with me. I hid this in my trunk in the Chantry in Lothering and I... I thought you should have it."

I shook my head, "Leliana, I can't... This is too much, I can't..."

She shook her head at me, "Even the fearless leader deserves a good birthday present."

My head snapped up and I stared at her, "How... how did you know?"

She smiled sheepishly and looked away, "You'll hate me for this but I... I looked it up while we were in Redcliffe. The arl has an extensive library, including a list of all the nobility in Ferelden."

I shook my head, "You looked it up? You could have asked, Leliana. I would have told you."

She smiled at me, "Oh no you wouldn't have. You're forgetting that I know you, Felyca. We've traveled together now for how long and you think that you can hide the fact that you don't like discussing yourself?" She glanced around the camp, at each individual around the cook fire and nodded.

Zevran gave me a dagger with a series of emeralds and sapphires at the cross piece, "The ridge here is hollow," he explained as I held it to the light, the jewels sparkling, "And this is actually a button here," He guided my fingers to the small sapphire set in the center of a circle of emeralds, "to release whatever you may have inside."

I arched an eyebrow and looked at him, "Like poison?"

He grinned wickedly, "Perhaps, my dear Warden, or perhaps a love potion?" I shook my head, smiling broadly and tucked the dagger in the empty spot on my belt. It was perfect, since I'd lost one of my favorite knives in a fight with darkspawn in getting Shale, the stoic golem that now stood over every watch.

Wynne rested a hand on my shoulder and handed me a small leather bound book. I flipped through it quickly, and found the pages to be blank. "I thought you might wish to write some things down, Felyca." she said, watching me carefully. "I know that some things are just hard to verbalize and thought that perhaps writing them down might be easier."

I smiled gently, "Thank you. I will use it, I promise." Morrigan practically threw her gift at me, a small vial of a rather thick, disgusting looking potion. "What is it?"

She shrugged. "I found it in Flemeth's grimoire. It is an old recipe and while it wasn't given a name, by the ingredients I can assume that it is not a poison, but perhaps more of a binding concoction." I peered carefully at the contents of the vial and uncorked it, "I would not recommend smelling it. It is most foul, but I have no doubt that it would be useful." I replaced the cork and carefully placed the vial amongst the others in my personal pack. Whether or not I trusted Flemeth, I wasn't certain, but I was beginning to trust Morrigan with my life, despite the growing protests from certain other companions.

Sten came forward, the package in his hands larger than the others that I could see, and he was much more nervous about giving it. "Kadan, I..."

I stood up and grasped the item in both my hands, "No explanation is necessary. Somehow I don't think the qunari would celebrate birthdays." he shook his head, and I commenced in opening the wrappings. Everyone gasped in awe as the paper fell away and my hand wrapped around it. It was a beautiful longbow with matching quiver, made of dragonthorn with ornately carved limbs that twisted almost like those from a tree. It was strung with a braid of tree sinew and string and the grip felt as though it had been carved specifically for my hand alone. The carvings on the limbs depicted different scenes and I had kneel closer to the fire to get a better look at them. The first showed a great castle being burned and what appeared to be a woman fleeing the scene. The woman reappeared in the next, standing proud over a wasted battlefield, with a canine companion at her side. Next the woman was in front of a cage, with a man inside, followed closely with her freeing the man. The entire bow was like this, but near the end the scenes dropped off and I looked up at Sten in awe, "This is... this is me, isn't it? The woman in these pictures?"

He crossed his arms and nodded curtly, "Yes, Kadan."

Alistair piped up, his present still in his lap, "Don't let him fool you, Sten spent an insane amount of gold on that bow. I know because I was there when he commissioned it. You should have seen the blacksmith's face when he told him what he wanted." Alistair looked over at Sten, something akin to friendship on his face, "He was shown at least ten other bows that might have sufficed, but he wanted that one." Sten kicked at the ground, his face a mask, but I could tell he was bothered by all the attention. I walked quickly over to my current quiver and removed a single arrow to test the tensile strength of the string and was surprised to find that it was even stronger than it looked. I pulled back as far as I could took careful aim at a tree just beyond the light of the fire, and let the arrow fly. The string snapped back into place, skidding across my arm and I let out a yelp of pain. It was a rookie mistake to make and I shook out my arm as I watched the arrow strike the target. The bark of the tree shattered around the point of impact and when I walked over to the tree to retrieve the arrow my jaw dropped.

My arrow, made of ash wood, was buried half way through the trunk of the tree. "Maker!" I breathed, gripping the arrow just below the fletchings and yanked as hard as I could. It didn't move, and all I got out of it was several cuts on my hand from the fletchings. I turned back to Sten and walked towards him carefully, wrapping my hand in a spare bandage. I held the upper limb towards him, which he took gently in one of his giant hands. It was an old tradition in my family, one that my father had taught me when he gave me my first bow. It was 'showing' the bow one that it may never shoot at, and I was sure that Sten not only picked up on the formality of the gesture, but also the meaning behind it.

"What should I call it, Sten?" I whispered, keeping my voice steady.

His violet eyes bore into mine and I could feel the looks of those behind me. "It is your weapon, Kadan. Call it whatever you wish."

I raised the bow, taking another look at the carvings in the wood and drew aim again at the poor tree, "This bow could fire a spear. I think perhaps, Spear Thrower?"

Sten nodded approvingly, "Yes. Spear Thrower." He walked away slowly, joining Shale on the first watch. I stood still, waiting for the others to creep away from the main fire. The bow felt right in my hand, as though somehow I had been there to oversee the entire process of it being made. Usually dragonthorn felt heavy, almost too thick to be used for a good bow, but this... This must have been made by a master, because it felt like it weighed nothing.

I could feel Alistair coming closer to me and wrap his arms around me, nuzzling the back of my neck. "You should have seen him when we went to the shop. I've only seen him with that much determination in battle, and was he ever set on having this bow come out right."

I leaned back against him, welcoming the warmth of his body against mine. "It really is beautiful. I almost wish I didn't have to use it." I quickly bent to pick up the quiver and looked at it more carefully. It was slightly larger than the one I used currently, and just below the lip, on the exterior of it was a slot that looked as though it could... "Alistair, why is this..." He lifted my family sword in front of me and carefully slid it into the pocket.

"You wouldn't believe how many times I almost got caught when I snuck off with this."

"But why..."

He nipped at my neck, "Because you deserve it."

"I deserve it?"

"Yes. You deserve a bow as beautiful as you are."

I blushed and was grateful that he was standing behind me, "You think I'm beautiful?"

He took a great breath, "Of course you are and you know it. You're ravishing, resourceful and all those other things you'll probably hurt me for not saying."

"I could never hurt you, Alistair." I paused, then added, "At least, not without warning you first."

I felt him chuckle and he rested his chin against my shoulder, "Nor I you." We stood there for a moment longer, then he whispered, "You're missing a gift."

I smiled, "Oh? And whose might that be? Shale didn't get me something did it?"

He released me with a huff and mocked a pout, "Oh, is that all I am now? Half a dozen stolen kisses and a warm companion on watch?"

I giggled and turned to him, "And let's not forget a willing bed partner."

He turned crimson and rested his forehead against mine. "With talk like that, I'm surprised no one else has said anything."

I giggled, "Actually, Wynne has."

"What did she say?"

His grip on my waist tightened and I shrugged, "She just..." I pulled away from him, "She brought up a good point." I bit my lip, not sure how I wanted to say this, "We are both Grey Wardens, and like it or not you are the son of a king, and most likely the heir to his throne." He opened his mouth to protest, but I covered it with my hand, "Please, Alistair. Let me finish. We both have responsibilities that bear more weight than our more... personal... desires. As Grey Wardens we cannot afford to be selfish; we could be forced to chose between our own deaths and the deaths of thousands. What choice would you make?"

He looked hard at me, his eyes boring into mine, "Are you saying you want to..."

I shook my head, "No." I took his face in my hands and pulled gently on him, "No, Alistair. While I admit, I'm not sure what the future will hold for us, I'm not going to just give up because some old woman thinks I might get hurt." I smirked, "I wouldn't have Calen with me if I thought that way." He wasn't convinced, I could see it in his eyes. "Alistair, I love you. Did you hear me? I love you, and only you. There's no one else I could possibly love this much and no one else I want to spend what life I have left with."

His face softened, "You really mean that, don't you?" I nodded, and there it was. My heart on a golden platter waiting for him to stomp it into the dirt. Instead he brought his hands up to mine, kissed each knuckle then led me slowly to our tent. I woke the next morning alone to the sounds of the camp being dismantled, but on his pillow was a small pouch. Brushing my hair from my face, I sat up enough to open it and dumped the contents into my hand. It was a small golden locket, engraved with the Highever laurel. Inside was a rose petal, white as the snow surrounding the camp.

"Oh, Alistair." Maybe it was time for me to speak with Wynne about a silencing spell. After this gift, I wasn't about to hold my tongue.

The little voice in my head was screaming at me to get out, and get out fast. We shouldn't be involving ourselves in the political intrigues of the dwarven realms! Let them chose their own leader! You shouldn't be here! Ever since I was a child, I'd hated closed in spaces, they made my head hurt and reminded me of how small I really was, and the Deep Roads were no better. It seemed as though the world was in perpetual twilight and it was starting to strain my archers sight. I was thankful that I could still call an animal to fight by my side.

Just think about it, Felyca! This is where you're going to go when you die! Isn't it wonderful! You're going to be another rotting corpse here in thirty some odd years!

"By the tit's of my Ancestors!" Oghren had proclaimed when we'd entered, and now he was grunting something about Branka, the Paragon we were searching for, being a prime example of a dwarf gone schizoid. The voice was laughing at me as Oghren, Alistair and Shale fought beside me on our way through Ortan Thaig.

Great, more Darkspawn!

Look at that! Even more Darkspawn!

Are you ever going to get away from them?

SHUT UP! I shouted at myself, and finally the voice went silent. I couldn't think, and I could have sworn I heard a voice.

Oh, so you're hearing voices now are you? You know that's how it starts...

A dwarven voice.

"Broodmother." Hespith called, drawing us closer and closer. The walls around us changed from stone to stone-covered-with-rotting-flesh and made my skin crawl. We rounded the corner, and there she was in all her disgusting glory. My stomach roiled as I watched her writhe against the stone and what appeared to be not one but several, it looked like they were male, darkspawn.

Forget dying, you could become THAT! The voice laughed again, sounding like fingernails against fresh cut steel. I ducked my head and charged forward, ignoring the horrified looks from my companions... well, the one who could understand what my feelings were anyway.

So this is why there aren't many women in the Grey Wardens. Interesting; Felyca have you even considered how it would feel to be continually raped by Darkspawn for the rest of your life? Oh wait! Even better! What it would feel like, knowing that the children you birthed would only ever be darkspawn? How delightful!

I dodged the tentacles that lashed up from the flesh on the floor and slipped on the mush. I fell hard on my back and found myself staring up into the glazed eyes of the beast. We watched each other like that for what felt like hours, but I'm sure was only seconds, before a long well-armored leg between us, kicking the beast in the face. I felt stony hands grab my shoulders and yank me away as a flash of metal entered my field of vision. Once back on my feet, I readied Spear Thrower with one of the few specialty arrows I had and let it fly.

The shaft was of finely welded silverite ore, perfectly straight and while heavier than other wooden arrows, they were crafted by some of the finest in the Smith Caste and flew as fast as any other. My aim was true, and the arrow entered Broodmother's gaping mouth. I heard the satisfying clink as it passed through her skull and hit the stone wall behind her. Her body bucked as the arrow struck and then fell limp as blood poured from the two wounds.

Right... I'm not going behind her to fetch that arrow.

Yeah... She can keep it.

My companions cleared the room of the remaining frustrated Darkspawn, but I fell to my knees and stared in shock. Broodmother was slumped forward, her blood a thickly congealed mess on the floor below her, her multiple breasts slouching and the tentacles that were once waving manically now lay across the floor. "I am dying of something worse than death... betrayal." I could hear Hespith saying something above us, but I wasn't listening anymore. All I could focus on was the gruesome sight before me. I fought it or tried to anyway, but in the end I couldn't hold it in. The small meal we'd had in a secluded corner of the thaig reappeared on the floor in front of me, and didn't stop coming until my body wracked with dry heaves.

It was Alistair that held my shoulders as I swallowed bile and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I was about to look back up when he put a strong hand on the back of my head and hissed, "Don't... don't look at it. You'll just lose whatever you haven't already." He picked me up easily with one hand, my weaponry in his other and hauled me bodily out of the cavern. He found a suitable place and settled me down on a boulder just tall enough that he could kneel in front of me and watch my face. He sent Oghren and Shale ahead of us to keep watch as he produced a cleaner handkerchief to wipe my mouth. "Well, I suppose that answers that question." I looked at him, only half seeing him. My mind was still reeling with the giggles of the voice in my head.

"What question?" I gasped, reaching for the small waterskin I'd brought along and swishing out my mouth.

He half grinned, "Why there aren't many women in the Grey Wardens." I looked at him sharply, not sure if I should laugh. Or if I even wanted to.

I shook my head and smiled, "You are incorrigible, you know that right?"

He smiled broadly, "So I've been told." He tucked a finger under my chin and made me look into his eyes, "Are you going to be okay?"

I bit my lip, and nodded. He bobbed his head and stood, pulling me to my feet with him. His arms quickly tightened around me in a hug and I returned it. But as we continued on our way I couldn't stop thinking about it. After few more treacherous hours of eliminating more and more Darkspawn, I called for a rest, fitting all of us in a small alcove just above the Dead Trenches.

"Alistair." he didn't look at me, focusing rather intently on his sword and removing the darkspawn blood that coated it. I bit my lip, "Alistair, please. I need to talk to you."

He set his jaw and finally looked up at me, refusal in his eyes. "Yes?"

I swallowed hard, "I need you to promise me something."

He smirked, "Anything for you, dear one."

I glanced at my hands, which were fiddling with Spear Thrower, "I need you to promise me that you'll kill me."

The color drained from his face, clearly he didn't understand, "You want me to kill you? Whatever for!" I held up my hand holding Zevran's dagger and offered it to him. He shook his head and held up his hands in surrender, "No! I'm not touching that."

I hung my head and sighed, "Alistair. I don't want to become a Broodmother, not after I've fought all this way to stop the Blight. I'm not saying right now, but when..." I took a shuddering breath, "When my turn for the Calling comes, I want you to swear to me that you'll kill me. That you won't let me..." His hand clasped over mine, almost crushing it against the dagger.

"I won't be around, love. Remember? I've been a Warden for longer than you, the most likely outcome will be that I hear my Calling first."

I shook my head, "I know that! But just in case..." I couldn't find the words I wanted to say.

His grip on my hand shifted and he removed the dagger from my hand. Turning the dagger perpendicular to the ground, he knelt in front of me and looked up at me, perfectly serious, "I swear to you, my lady, that you will not become a Broodmother."

I took the dagger and replaced it on my belt, "Thank you, Ser Knight. You don't know what that means to me."

As he stood he wrapped his arms around my waist, and whispered in my ear, "But I ask a promise in return, my lady fair. That when your calling comes, you take me with you."

I put my hand against his breastplate and turned my face into his neck, "I so swear, Ser Knight."

"And then it was done, and Bhelen was made king. I chose him for his resolve at pulling Orzammar forward. And there was just something in his eyes that told me no matter what he'd done in the past, he was the right choice... the only real choice I had." Felyca took a slow breath, turning around and watching the healers tent, where Alistair now stood, his head hanging low and his foot kicking at the dirt as he waited for news about her body. "Let me talk to him, please. Let me tell him that I'm alright?" her voice was pleading, but the mage heard none of it. Urthemiel watched her as she stared at the weaker man. A human, a Grey Warden, a king. These things he could understand. But what he could offer her was so much more. He offered her a place among the gods.

A run-down temple hidden beneath the snow and ice of the Frostback Mountains? No wonder no one has been able to find the blasted thing.

Right... Andraste's risen? Why don't I believe you?

You're crazy, you know that right, old man?

I think you should just kill him and get this over with.

That's a very, very, very large dragon, Felyca. And just how do you propose to kill it? Your little arrows won't feel like much more than a mosquito bite on that hide.

No, wait... Alistair, don't just...

I suppose that works, you'll have to try that next time, Felyca.

"You abandoned your father and mother to Arl Rendon Howe, knowing that he would show no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?"

I sucked in my breath, "How do you know my past, Guardian?"

He smiled gently, "Your history is before me, in the lines on your face and the scars on your heart. The question remains, do you think you failed your parents?"

My heart was racing, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. My mind reeled with unvoiced emotion and my own fears. I looked at the floor, trying hard not to cry. Do you think you failed your parents? My breath caught in my throat, "Yes." I looked back up at him, feeling the tears roll down my face, "Yes, I failed them. I should have stayed to defend them, I should have made my mother come with me, I should have woken earlier to save Oriana and Oren, I shouldn't even have gone to bed at all. I should have stayed with my father, I could have helped him fight off Howe's soldiers. I could have insisted that Ser Gilmore follow me, I should have done a lot of things. Do I think I failed them? No, I know I failed all of them." By the end of my rant my chest was heaving and I was sobbing openly. I rubbed at my cheeks with the back of my hand and sniffed, closing my eyes, trying to ignore the stares I was feeling on my back.

Alistair was just behind me to my right and I heard him whisper, "You're too hard on yourself, nobody's perfect." I wanted to believe him, I should have believed him, but I just shook my head. The guardian went through my companions, asking each of them a question just as gut wrenching as mine. I heard it all, and ignored it all. I knew Alistair wanted to be with Duncan at Ostagar, I could understand Leliana's wanting attention at the Chantry, even if she believed her vision, and I knew that Sten had never made light of the murders he'd committed to be jailed. But this cut deep. I'd failed my blood.

Ghost after ghost asked me a riddle, and ghost after ghost got the answer. I watched their mist fly away down the great hall to a grand carved door. As I answered the last, I smiled to Leliana and tried to laugh. She smiled at me and we turned to make it through the doors when my feet stopped moving. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway, dressed in fine clothes and standing with a sense of command of not only itself and those around it. I could just make out the familiar set of those shoulders. "Father?" I whispered, my heart stopped beating. The ghost raised its head, and that beloved smile came across his face, "Father!" I gasped, stumbling to him. I made it to the doorway before I regained my senses and froze in place. "Father..."

"My dearest child." It was his voice, the voice that had soothed me as a youngster as I'd come crawling into his bed at night, terrified of the monsters lurking underneath my bed. The voice that had sung soft lullabies as I fell asleep in front of the fire, that had taught me how to wield a sword.

But I could see right through him.

My heart dropped again, "Why must you torment me like this!" I hissed, and the look on the ghosts face fell slightly.

"There is no torment that we could come up with that could rival that which you inflict upon yourself. You must mourn no more, my child. You have to be strong, there is so much ahead of you that you must be ready for." He gave me a pendant, cut in the shape of a lily. Four petals spread in a fan shape, made of a glazed glass and the stem tinted green. It was the same as the one my mother would wear on special occasions, one that I'd always admired and wanted for myself. The ghost raised a hand to my chin, making me look at him one more time, "I love you, pup, and I will always be proud of you."

I fell to my knees as he disappeared, clutching the pendant to my chest and letting the tears hit the ground. "Daddy..."