And then, when my joy was at its zenith, when all seemed absolutely right and wonderful in the world… reality began to set in. What in the Maker's name did I think I was doing? I couldn't be a fair and just leader while I was feeling… whatever it is I was feeling toward Alistair. I had to remain objective. I had to remain vigilant. And more than anything… I didn't really think I deserved happiness. Last night had been one of the most magical, most perfect nights I'd ever known. Meanwhile, my mother and father were lying cold and lonely in their shallow graves, my brother was Maker knows where—though in all likelihood he'd met the same fate—and my childhood home was nothing more than rubble. How dare I feel anything but sorrow and regret?

On top of all that, Alistair was next in line to rule Ferelden. He could deny it until he was blue in the face; I knew it was coming. There was no future for me with him. As we all know, leading this little ragtag bunch of misfits was the last thing I wanted. What was I going to do? Become queen? Fat chance.

How could I have been so blind? So foolhardy? It all started with him giving me that blasted rose and everything since has been aftermath. He'd set my heart afire when he awoke me that morning, and then the song and the moonlight and the candles and… well… where it all led. It was like something right out of a storybook. Face it, Scarlett. It was time to grow up. It was time to stop believing in fairy tales.

I splashed some cold water on my face before I went to gather the others. The road to Denerim would be long indeed. I knocked on Leliana's door first.

"Good morning." She taunted with a slow grin. "I'd ask how you slept but I happen to know you and a certain someone were up rather late."

"Let's just… not go there. Would you please wake him for me?"

"Oh no… what happened?"

"I really don't want to talk about it. I just can't face him right now. Please wake him. I'll get the others."

"But—"

"Leliana. Please." I interrupted sternly. She nodded and went to go get him. Then I knocked on Sten's door.

"What are you playing at?" he asked sternly.

"Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine."

"You sat there last night and you drank wine and sang songs while our enemies grow stronger and the Blight draws closer. You are a foolish, foolish girl."

Great. This was just what I needed. And you know what? I couldn't even argue with him.

"You're right." I admitted.

"That… is not what I expected to hear."

"Yes, well, I've had some time to reflect this morning. I have something of a… renewed focus."

"Good." Was all he said in return. You know Sten—always so verbose. Zevran was next. Oh goody.

"Good morrow, my little songbird."

"I'm not your little anything. But good morning."

"Oooh so feisty at this early hour. I like it. Alas, you made it abundantly clear last night to whom your heart belongs. You cut me to the core!"

"Zevran, have I ever led you on in any way, shape, or form? Given you any reason to believe I was even remotely romantically interested in you?"

"Bah. Mere trivialities, my tall drink of water."

"Yikes. Your pet names could really use some work, Zev." And with that I left to get Wynne.

"Good morning, child."

"Morning." I tried my best to give her a smile but I just was not feeling it.

"You look… ashen. Are you ill?" She reached to feel my forehead. Oy. What did she think I was? Four?

"I'm fine. We're getting ready to head out."

"You can't fool these old eyes. Something is wrong."

"I appreciate your concern, Wynne, I really do. But I really just want to get moving."

"As you wish. I am here should you need anything." I gave her a nod and headed over to Morrigan.

"I need to speak with you." She demanded as soon as I opened the door.

"Oh. That doesn't sound ominous at all. Is everything alright?" I asked.

"I have been studying Flemeth's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I have found?"

"Um… sure. Lay it on me."

"Tis… not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells. A map of the power she commands. But this is not it."

"You're disappointed then, I take it."

"No, there is much of interest within her writing. Things I did not know. And one in particular I would never have suspected. Here, in great detail, Flemeth explains the means by which she has survived for centuries."

"… I'm listening."

She went on to explain that Flemeth basically raises daughters only to inhabit their bodies when her current one grows too old and weak. What a classy lady.

"If that's the case, why would she send you with us?"

"I do not know. It's possible she sees the darkspawn as a threat just as anyone else does. Or it's possible she thought the journey would make me more powerful. According to the tome, if the vessel is already powerful and trained in magic, it takes far less time for Flemeth to… settle in."

"This is beyond disturbing; you know that?"

"I do indeed." She paused for a moment and, I swear to the Maker, it seemed like she was about to lose her composure. I even saw some tears welling up in her eyes, although they never fell. "I am sorry. This simply takes me by surprise. I would have thought I would have had some inkling… some notion…"

I had never ever seen her this… vulnerable. The only mother she'd ever known had only kept her around to eventually use her as window dressing. She meant nothing to Flemeth. That had to hurt, even someone as shatterproof as Morrigan. It made me feel for her. It made me want to help her.

"I… I'm sorry, Morrigan. I don't know what else to say."

"Do not be sorry. I am not. I am angry. There is only one possible response to this: Flemeth needs to die. And I need your help to do it."

Ah. Of course.

"Didn't you just tell me how that book outlines, in rather excessive detail, that she cannot do that very thing?"

"True, she will not be gone forever. But we will… slow her down."

"And why do you need me to do the slaying, exactly? You seem more than capable."

"Because if she is slain while I am near, I am not certain that she will not just take possession of me right there. So obviously, I cannot be the one to do it."

"Obviously." I rolled my eyes.

"My life is on the line here. I would not ask this of you if I did not trust you. Please. Do not make me beg."

"I don't wish you any harm, Morrigan. I really don't. But I need to devote all of our time to securing those alliances."

"Oh, all of your precious time? You seemed to have no problem wasting time helping those mages trapped in the tower. And those villagers whom you did not even know. Or traveling all the way to the Circle to save that boy when you could have ended that impertinent woman's life and been done with it." She spat her words at me as though they were poison. After a moment had passed, her tone had softened, "I had begun to see you as something of a friend. Do not betray that."

I hung my head and sighed. All good points, but this was doing nothing for my attempt at so-called "objective leadership."

"Very well. If we have reason to head back that way, I will do this for you."

"I suppose I will have to take you at your word."

"I suppose you will." I left her room and went to retrieve Meatball from the kennels.

And so our journey began as they so often did. I was in the front with Meatball at my side and Alistair was behind me—much to my chagrin. I knew I couldn't keep avoiding him forever. I couldn't even meet his eyes when he said good morning; I just stared at my feet and uttered something I'm not even sure was remotely intelligible as human speech. Ugh. What a nightmare.

I knew the others were behind me in some order or other, but looking back meant I had to look in Alistair's direction—something I'd been avoiding like the plague. We walked mostly in silence. Between Alistair sensing something was wrong between us, Leliana knowing something was wrong between Alistair and I, Wynne thinking I was falling ill, and Morrigan's thoughts lingering on Flemeth, I guess no one was really in the mood for small talk. Fancy that.

When we stopped for a rest, Alistair cornered me.

"…What is going on? I expected a little awkwardness but this is… something else. Isn't it?"

"We need to keep moving." was all I offered.

"You can't keep ignoring me. Talk to me. Please." He grabbed my hand and I made the somewhat fatal mistake of looking into his eyes, and I could feel my heart beginning to break in two. Maker's breath, it was one blasted kiss! …Alright, a few more than one. But still! Why was this so difficult?!

I let go of his hand as though I were touching a hot stove. "Not here. We'll talk when we set up camp, alright?" It was the best I could do.

"Fine."

A little further down the road we saw a bunch of soldiers ganging up on one isolated man. Not cool. We had the high ground and remained unnoticed so I took the time to look at the man a little closer. He looked… familiar. He was wearing the uniform of King Cailan's honor guard. I think… yes… I remembered him from Ostagar.

Rather than charging immediately, I decided to see how the situation played out. Before I could even process what happened, one of the guards ran the man through with his sword. The phrase 'he who hesitates is lost' immediately sprung to mind. Maker, could I do nothing right?

I ran down to see if we could do anything to save him.

I knelt beside him and asked, "Hello? Can you hear me? I want to help you."

"Thank you. I didn't expect the Bann's men to notice my escape so quickly. I tried to hide here in the woods, but there wasn't time. And now I'm a dead man."

"Wynne, is there anything you can do?"

"Unfortunately not. Not for a wound this severe. All we can do now is ease his passing. I'm sorry."

I hung my head in defeat. "I'm sorry. I should have charged sooner. I didn't think…"

"Shhh. I know your face. You were there in Ostagar. You know how things went. For me, it was either this, or die in some darkspawn's belly or… or be hanged as a deserter."

"You're a deserter?" I asked.

"I daresay people think the same of you and me. If not worse." Alistair offered. True enough.

"I fled the battlefield when Loghain betrayed us. I abandoned my men, and they died, and Cailan with them. He was my king, my friend. He entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest. If anything were to happen to him, he said, it was vital I deliver it to the Wardens." Interesting.

"Do you still have this key?"

"I was afraid. I thought I would lose it on the battlefield, so I stashed it in the camp. Please—it's probably still there, behind a loose stone at the base of a statue. I'll draw you a map."

"You'll be taking me along, won't you? Call me sentimental, but I left behind some darkspawn that really deserve a sword through the middle." Alistair requested.

"The events at Ostagar still haunt my thoughts, Warden. If that is where we are headed, I would like to accompany you." I guess Wynne was having trouble forgetting what happened after all.

The dying man went on to explain that there were some important documents of Cailan's that could do a lot of damage if they were to fall into the wrong hands before he passed. And although I am the first to admit I did not agree with the way Cailan handled things at Ostagar, he was my king. He was Alistair's brother. He deserved better than to be left there to rot.

I nodded. "Ostagar it is. And before any of you protest and say this is not important, let me be the first to remind you that a rather large faction of the darkspawn horde invaded that very spot. Slaying the ones who remain there will mean a substantial blow to their forces. Not to mention these documents of Cailan's. We need to get to those before Loghain does. Maker knows what he'll do with them."

Sten grunted but I suppose he couldn't argue with my logic. One point for me.

"I am all too happy to head that way. I do recall someone giving me her word that she would take care of something for me there, should we return." Morrigan reminded me in her uniquely patronizing tone.

Brilliant. Walked right into that one, didn't I?

All too soon the sun was beginning to set and Maker, was I dreading setting up camp. Not only because of my exceedingly stubborn tent, but because I knew it meant I had to face Alistair. Ah, speak of the demon…

"Well, we're in camp."

"That we are." I nodded.

"Care to tell me why you've all but ignored me all day?"

I took a deep breath and tried my damndest to muster the courage to explain. "I… I've come to the realization that last night was a mistake." The words sounded so uncaring I was tempted to look in a mirror to ensure I hadn't suddenly turned into Morrigan.

"A mistake…" he repeated, his face long and crestfallen.

"Yes, I'm sorry."

"But you… I…" he stammered.

"I know. It was foolish of me. I didn't mean for things to go as far as they did. I became so wrapped up in fantasy that I lost sight of reality."

"But it wasn't a fantasy. It actually happened… and it was wonderful." He uttered the last part barely above a whisper. "You can't tell me you felt nothing for me last night. I know you did. I saw that look in your eyes when you sang to me. I felt you."

"What I may or may not have felt last night doesn't matter. You and Morrigan so generously elected me to lead this expedition, remember? I cannot carry on with you and effectively do my job. I will not jeopardize this mission because of some school girl crush."

He furrowed his brow and looked utterly confused, hints of anger playing across his face.

"You know what I think? I don't think this is about your ability to lead at all. This is about control."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do. For the briefest of moments last night your precious walls came tumbling down and you let me in. You let me see the real you. And it was genuine and passionate and powerful. And the very thought of you losing control with someone terrifies you."

I just stared at him with wide eyes. Where the heck was this coming from? "I… No. No. You're way off the mark here."

"No, I don't believe I am. You're thinking you can stop this before it starts because the future is uncertain and you can't handle that. So what do you do? You end it, because that's the only way you know you can control it. Well guess what, Scarlett? This thing between you and I, it's already started. You can't undo it. You can't control it."

Now he was starting to make me angry. How dare he presume to know me? I could have fit everything he didn't know about me in a bag the size of Zevran's ego. Rather than continue the argument, I just went over to my tent (which I managed to cobble together myself this time, thankyouverymuch), grabbed the rose, and extended it to him.

"You gave this to the wrong girl." I declared obstinately.

He let out a brief, harsh laugh. "It was a gift." He pushed my arm back toward my torso. "Keep it."

And then he left camp and I didn't see him again for the rest of the night.