She pulled back the sword tip, tilting the blade into the air and resting it lightly against her shoulder. "You have a point, Riordan."

"What?" Alistair stared at Elissa as though her head had turned into that of a mule. "I...I can't..." He turned to stare at Riordan.

"He tortured you - how can you overlook that? Elissa," he attempted upon his commander, his love, "He branded us traitors, nearly killed us! Slandered the Grey Wardens! How...how can..." Removing her eyes from Loghain as he rose from his position on the floor, she gave Alistair a long, cold look. The same one she hadn't lost since killing Howe; the one he remembered from when they had visited his sister in Denerim. The person standing in front of him was someone he had never known, had never wanted to know. Not in her, not even in himself. He looked back to Riordan, finally realizing that he would have to be the one to bring justice to Duncan's...to Cailan's murderer.

"Teryn Loghain Mac Tir, I place you under arrested for crimes against the crown, including the murder of King Cailan Theirin." A few simple words, things that could never be unsaid, and now everyone knew that he intended to take the crown. The crowd's murmurings grew louder, punctuated with a gasp or two.

"I invoke the Right of Conscription." All noise in the room silenced. Her voice was steady and clear, but to Alistair's ears, the phrase was a cruel whisper in the dark. He stood, stunned, turning quickly to look at her in...horror? How? How could she?

"I won't allow it! As king-"

"You are not king yet, Alistair," Anora supplied, rather smoothly. Applying salt to the wound. He turned to look at Loghain's daughter, the to-be de-throned queen, and wanted to cut the smug looking smirk off of her face with his blade.

"I became king the moment my brother was murdered," he replied, a steel edge to his voice that brought surprise even to her eyes.

He looked back to Elissa, who had an approving look in her own face, still the stoic expression but she approved of this? There was no reason to fathom, no reason to understand. His face scowled, and he turned away from her. He felt...betrayed, hurt. Even those simple words were not enough to describe the emotions warring within him.

Maker help him, but he wanted to strike out at Elissa as she had at him - isn't that what she had done? Denied him the one thing he had been striving for? Stopped him from making peace with Duncan's death, forcing him upon the throne when he had wanted nothing of the sort? What possible good she could be seeing in this he couldn't begin to imagine. She had flouted the power of the Grey Warden's in his face; forced him into a position where he thought he would be in control, and still there was nothing he could do.

"So be it. Take this woman," he waved a hand at Anora, who suddenly grew very pale, "to Fort Drakon. I will deal with her after the battle; there's still a whole army of darkspawn out there and I don't intend to see my country laid to waste." Glancing at Elissa, he saw hope flicker in her eyes. Of what? He couldn't bear to look at her, at Loghain, at anything. His world was spinning and he knew that if he didn't sit down soon, he was going to pass out. Turning away from her, from his enemy, from everyone in the room (including Eamon, the one who had proposed this folly in the first place, his foster father of sorts, another Maferath) and walked away.

Elissa watched him go, pride fluttering in her chest at his words and actions. Here was the man she had imagined, the man who would be strong enough to lead the country out of this chaos and into a golden age. He would hurt, oh she knew how he would hurt - he hadn't wanted this, had denied it with all of his heart and soul. Refused to acknowledge the path fate had laid out for him. But this was her purpose, among many - restoring the throne, righting the country, all at the cost of everything she had ever loved and wanted.

And as she watched him walk away, she wanted to pretend that she felt nothing.


Later she found him in a guest room, far from the throne room and everyone else in the castle. The door was locked and she had banged on it until he had let her in, unlocking the door and moving away from it before she had even entered. Closing it quietly behind her, she pressed her back against the door and snapped the lock into place. He was facing the stone wall at the rear of the room, next to the bed in the corner. How familiar this scene was.

"Alistair, I-" She stopped because suddenly the words wouldn't come. She knew what she had done - knew that there was no forgiveness for it. But she had done what she had to do, and damn this feeling of guilt! Apologies were useless. There was nothing left to be said. And yet she said it anyway, knowing already that it was over.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"What? Just had to pardon Loghain, after everything he's done? After all the people he's killed?" She watched him shudder as he tried to control himself. He turned from the wall and sat on the bed, looking out of place: battle-scarred steel armor in all the luxury surrounding them. Her own leathers were broken in, hard, flexible to movement and worn thin. They would need replacements before the battle, if they were to survive.

He stared at the floor but she could not look away from him - deep within her, she was begging him to just look at her, but another part of her dreaded what she might find lurking behind his eyes. The hurt, the accusations. They floated in silence for a time.

"Why?" Rather than sounding of a petulant child as he had in the past, his voice was rough and dangerous. Slowly she found herself walking towards him, ever drawn as a moth is to the flame; then stopped mid-way through the room, suddenly unsure of herself. She was treading on ground ready to give way beneath her feet for but one wrong move.

It shocked her to hear him speak thusly; the only violence she had known in him had been protecting what he stood for and cared about. The idea that he was threatening her now was foreign. Clenching fists as a slight anger rose in her belly, she gritted her teeth as she searched for words to explain.

Explain, why should she have to explain, she was the leader and no one had ever questioned her before. No one had the right to - but it was him.

"It's political, Alistair, if you would just think on it-"

"What reason is there to think on it? What reason could you give me for sparing the life of Duncan's murderer?" He launched himself from the bed and stalked towards her, then stopped and moved away, near pacing, and for a moment she felt fear bolt through her. Neither were armed - that was inappropriate within the palace walls - but that didn't mean that he didn't have other weapons at his disposal.

"The people love him, Alistair! If we can win the people over-"

"Stop, Elissa, just stop." He put hands to his ears, attempting to drive her words out, but she couldn't stem the gushing from her mouth.

"-then they'll disregard the lies he spread about us, about the Grey Wardens. They'll acknowledge-"

"Elissa, I don't want to hear it. Shut up!"

"-that we're in the right, and that will rally everyone together-" He stalked towards her again, and she stepped back to give ground, unsure of what he intended. Suddenly she felt her back against the wall, and there was nowhere to go as she saw...was it hate?...something rising in his eyes.

"-even open the gates for the Wardens in the future! Isn't that what you wanted?" He was standing before her, the kind and caring face she was so used to built in a facade of cold stone. It was an alien look for him, causing her to shiver at the sight of it. What had she done to him? She willed him to speak, opening her mouth and then closing it quickly before another word might send him into a frenzy.

"What...I...wanted? You think I wanted this?" He leaned into her, putting hands on the stone walls and blocking any available exit. "You've slandered the Wardens name worse than Loghain ever could. Accepting him into the ranks showed that we ourselves are thieves, traitors! That our good deeds are nothing but a wall we hide our sins behind! There is no excuse for his crimes, nothing will exonerate him of that!" His face was inches from her, so akin to previous nights when she had found his presence comforting. Now the fear had given way to anger - yes, she had hardened him, made him grow up from the charming little boy she had met at Ostagar, but it seemed he was unwilling to let go of his old self.

"And his followers? Would you continue on this path to civil war when you make him a martyr?" Her voice was growing in pitch.

"His crimes are clear, and his supporters will fall into line," Alistair supplied quickly.

"Did Fereldens fall into line with Queen Moira?" she continued, recalling her own lessons in her country's history. "As I remember, her own countrymen killed her; when you give men a strong enough cause, threaten to take everything away from them, they will do anything! Do you want to wake in the middle of the night with your throat slit?"

"I never wanted to be king!" He thundered in reply, and her mouth grew hard. They paused, more words pushing forward but it was obvious that they were going nowhere. She had begun to lean forward into his challenge, no longer willing to settle back against the wall. Faces mere moments from touching, the friction was palpable. She wanted to smack him, wanted to kiss him - here he was, being absolutely infuriating, but what a leader he would make!

But still she found the chinks in his armor, in his argument. She always would, for she knew him best. She leashed her anger and raised a hand to his face; the skin beneath her fingertips was rough. His breath caught as her hand made contact - and for a moment, she thought he might relent, might accept her decision and step back into rank as any other good little soldier. For a moment in time they were frozen, leaning into each other, the attraction strong.

"Everyone deserves a second chance," she started slowly, almost teasingly, changing tack; speaking of themselves, asking his forgiveness. For once, showing weakness, normally abhorred by her common sense. But she also appealing to his goodness, saying that Loghain had once been a good man and would be, again.

"What of Howe? Did he not deserve a second chance?"

Her hand jumped away from his skin as though pulling away from a snake poised to strike, her face registered disgust. The words cut deep, so deep that she thought she might actually bleed from the wound he had dealt her. Again, a flash of the strong man, but now he was twisted into cruelty.

"Howe deserved what I gave him. Deserved that death, and so much more." Her words were cold and a flicker of hate sprang up in her mind. No, she didn't want to hate him, couldn't, he was the last good thing that was still hers... "It's his fault we're here in this mess - it's his fault that Loghain has fallen so far, his fault that I-"

"Loghain is an old and bitter man; his own history shows that much. Your justification is your family? What about mine? Duncan was all I had," he continued, leaning into her as she removed herself from him both physically and mentally. She screamed internally - what of me? Am I nothing to you?

"Should I have let you die when the poison was coursing through your veins? Let you drift away from me then, before I knew what you would do later? Before I learned how you felt?" Each question was a blow, striking her further and further down. This was why she could not let anyone in - they would leave, or hurt, or betray. Never mind her own actions, done for the good of all. Never breaking contact, the anger became a new tie between them, overshadowing all else.

"Maybe you should have. But Duncan's death does not merit risking the survival of a whole nation for your petty revenge. Loghain is a necessity, and I will have him. He will die when I deem it so - he will fight in the battle he should have fought in at Ostagar." Her words were flat. Nothing more need be said between them - a rift so wide it was unimaginable that there was anything they could do to cross it.

"Get away from me." For a moment he didn't move, perhaps the shock of her words stunning him to paralysis. When he did nothing further, she reacted with flat palms against his chest and shoved as hard as she could. "Get away from me!"

He responded with a startled cry, and his fist rang out to hit stone right next to her head. Both stood with wide open eyes, unbelieving of what had occurred. They froze for a moment, locked in a tableau that neither one of them had seen coming.

"Your majesty? Is everything all right?" A knocking interrupted them as a manservant attempted to open the door and inquire about the shouting. Alistair stepped back, extracting himself from the scene and pulling himself together before facing anyone outside of the room. Elissa moved away from him, walked towards the door and unlocked it.

She opened it and was gone without a second glance towards the man she had loved or the servant. She had a duty - a people to protect - an ancient enemy to slay. She continuously walked away from what she wanted and towards what she must do. Such was the path of a Grey Warden.