Chapter Twelve: A Royal Cremation

Alistair, Kyra, Oghren and Wynne, chased an Emissary through the snow laden ruins of Ostagar. They rounded the corner and suddenly stopped in their tracks. The Emissary was gone. Before them was the great bridge that connected the Tower of Ishal with the rest of Ostagar.

"He must be on the other side," Kyra said, panting. Frustrated, Alistair swung his sword, lodging it deep into the trunk of a tree.

"Maker's breath…" he grumbled as he tried to dislodge it again. The four of them stood there, taking a minute to gather themselves.

"I hope the others are alright…" Wynne said the words that were on everyone's mind. The attack of the previous night had rattled everyone. Most of them didn't sleep the rest of the night. Morrigan and Zevran had stayed behind to look after Leliana and Sten. Everyone hoped that the darkspawn didn't try to attack again. Something caught Kyra's eye and she moved closer to get a better look. Something was on the middle of the bridge…it looked like…

"What is it?" Alistair asked when he saw her expression. All she could do point in the direction.

"Maker help us…"

They stood in front if Cailan's body, which had been pinned up to some sickly structure that the darkspawn had erected. They had stripped him bare and used him for target practice, from the look of all the arrows that were sticking out of his body. Kyra looked at Alistair, who just stared up at his once half-brother. Kyra saw him clench his teeth, and tighten his grip around his sword and shield. She looked at Wynne, who wore a worried look on her face. Oghren, for once, had nothing to say. She looked back at Alistair who hung his head and held his eyes shut. She reached out to touch his shoulder, but a familiar sound drew all their attention away from the mangled body of the former king. On the other side of the bridge was the Emissary, who was laughing, spinning a new spell. Alistair looked up at his brother and then back at the darkspawn.

"Forgive us, my king. Once we've flushed the darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time, we'll be back to see you to the Maker." Kyra saw the fire burning bright in his eyes.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Alistair sheathed his sword and stowed his shield, as they returned to King Cailan's body. They had chased the Emissary all the way through the Tower of Ishal, and down onto the battlefield below, massacring every darkspawn they came across. They're weapons were thick with their blood. The fire in Alistair had helped him deal the fatal blow to fell the resurrected ogre they had fought in the battlefield. He still held onto the dagger's he had pulled from the creatures chests…the daggers that both he and Kyra recognized to be Duncan's.

"They just left him here to rot…" Alistair said sadly, barely able to look at Cailan's body, "We have to do something." He turned to Wynne.

"He is of royal blood," she started, "he deserves a pyre." Alistair nodded and looked back up at his brother.

"He was a good man who hoped too much…and died too young. He deserves what little honour we can afford to grant him." And so, they managed to bring down the structure and Cailan's body. Wynne even made a make shift stretcher as to carry him more dignifiedly. They took him to a slightly wooded area on higher ground, that over looked the battlefield. It was there they placed the king, folding his arms across his chest. It was there that Kyra and Wynne stoked a fire to cremate him.

"Are you alright, Alistair?" Kyra asked, sitting down next to the Warden. He picked up one of the pieces of Cailan's armour and turned it over in his hands.

"I don't know…" He shrugged, a dark scowl on his face, "It just feels…wrong to find this here, pawed over by the darkspawn and thick with their rot. It was his." Kyra sat quietly, watching him. His eyes seemed to look past the armour, past everything.

"I know he was not the first king to die in battle…or the first to fall to the darkspawn, nor will he be the last. But this wound…this wound cuts deeper."

Kyra placed a hand on Alistair's, bringing him out of where ever he was in his head, "And it will bleed longer. But all wounds heal. They grow back shut and leave only a scar. You just have to give it time…" He looked at her the look on his face pleading her.

"I don't want scars, Kyra. I want my brother back…" Alistair looked away, "I may not have been close to him…Maker, he didn't even know that I existed, but he was still my brother. He was the only family I had left. Father, dead. Mother, dead. Goldana…well," Alistair scoffed, "…and now, Cailan…"

"Goldana?" Kyra asked.

"Yes, she is…was my sister. She lives in Denerim. I went to visit her. I thought that she'd be pleased to see her brother…boy, was I wrong." Alistair shook his head, "Even Elissa…she's gone…the last person that was holding it all together. Now, now I have no one."

"That's not true, Alistair," she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, "you still have us. It's not family, in the sense that you want it…but I think it's a pretty good replacement."

"You think so?" Alistair looked up at Kyra again, her mismatched eyes glowing softly.

"I do. In all my years of travelling…this is the best group I have ever travelled with. You all understand each other, just by a wave of a hand or a glance, you'll know what the other one meant by it. Even though you may not admit it, you all care immensely for one another...and that's what really matters. Not whether you have the same blood flowing in your veins."

Alistair smiled, "I suppose you're right. They've been there for me far more than what my family ever was."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

They were now travelled to Denerim. They had spent the previous night, after the long journey back, at Redcliffe castle, glad to be in a place that gave them warmth from the cold and a safe place to sleep at night. Arl Eamon had called for the Landsmeet and all the nobles were to be in Denerim by the end of the week. They were due to arrive a few days earlier, allowing them time to prepare. Alistair though did not seem to be relishing the idea of the Landsmeet. He had been even more depressed since they had returned to Redcliffe. He knew that there his fate would be laid out before him. It was there that the decision would be made of who was to rule Ferelden…and the rising fear in his stomach didn't help to comfort him.

They travelled along the Imperial Highway. A convoy of armed guards and mounted rider rode up front and alongside them, to protect them from whatever may come, be it darkspawn or bandits. Everyone was in a frenzied state, everyone talking amongst themselves in hushed tones about the 'miracles' that had happened. Leliana's broken arm was healed and so was Sten's broken ribs. Many of them believed it to be the grace of the Maker, once again shining down on them. Others were more sceptical…

"Leliana, please! Keep that arm of yours in the sling!" Wynne scolded. Leliana was dancing about, swaying her arms about, laughing and giggling. She, of course, believed that it was the work of the Maker that she and Sten were well again.

"Oh, Wynne! My arm is fine! As if it had never happened!" She laughed skipping around Wynne. Wynne wasn't impressed and glared at her.

"Child, please!"

"Leliana, do as Wynne asks, before she dies from worry!" Alistair said, joking with Wynne, though she didn't appreciate it much.

"Alright, alright," Leliana sighed, falling back in line, placing her arm in the sling again.

"Ser!" One of the guards shouted from behind them. Everyone turned around. Two of the guards were knelt down, Kyra lying on the floor.

"Maker!" Wynne rushed to her side.

"Is she alright?" Alistair asked, kneeling down.

"I…I don't know…" Wynne pressed her hand against Kyra's forehead, "She seems alright." Alistair had noticed that when Kyra joined them earlier in the morning, she had seemed…different. Like the morning in the Brecilian Forest. Her eyes were foggy and unclear, and she had dark circles around her eyes as if she hadn't slept in days. Alistair had noticed that she had seemed weak and disorientated too. But when he asked her about it, she had dismissed it as nothing.

"Lay her down in the back of Bodhan's cart," Wynne suggest. Alistair picked Kyra up and laid her gently down in the space the dwarves and cleared out for her. Alistair looked worriedly at Wynne, and even at Morrigan.

"There's nothing more we can do," Wynne replied, Morrigan nodding in agreement, "We should keep going."

Alistair walked along with Bodhan and Sandal, keeping a watchful eye on Kyra all the way.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It was a crisp, cool night as they sat around the camp fire eating dinner that Morrigan and Wynne had cooked up. They had set up came in a clearing, just off the road. Everyone felt a little bit safer with Arl Eamon's guards around. Alistair finished his bowl of stew. He turned around and looked at the tent Kyra was in. She hadn't stirred one bit the whole day, and frankly, Alistair was worried. He filled up another bowl and stood up, thinking to try his luck to see if he could wake her.

He entered the tent, Kyra still sleeping in the same position they had left her in. Alistair lit a candle as to see better. He sat down beside Kyra, the warm stew next to him. The light softly lit her face, and Alistair found himself tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked peaceful and calm. Alistair chuckled to himself…in the months that Kyra had been with them, Alistair formed the idea that she was like a dragon. A High Dragon to be more precise. She was tough and resilient and her words could burn just as painful as any fire or sword. She was someone to be feared and also respected. But she also had this fire in soul that few people had, this spark that never went out, no matter how it flickered. She too was…majestic like the dragon. Alistair found himself captivated with her, by the way she moved in battle, graceful but deadly, by her intelligence, by her unique and rare beauty. She was almost like an enigma, a puzzle, a story that had yet to be read.

Alistair's train of though was interrupted. Kyra stirred, moving underneath the blankets.

"Kyra?" Alistair whispered. She eyes opened and shut a few times, as she grew accustomed to the light.

"Alistair?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. He couldn't help but smile at the way she said his name.

"I brought you something to eat," he said, picking up the stew. Kyra sat up, the dark rings around her eyes less prominent now.

"You shouldn't have…Thank you," she took the bowl from him, cupping it in her hands. Alistair watched as she ate, spoonful after spoonful. She looked alright, but Alistair just didn't know.

"Are you alright?"

Kyra slowed, hesitating. She looked at him and studying his eyes.

"Yes, I'm…fine."

"You collapsed in the middle of the road. I wouldn't call that fine. What happened?"

Kyra wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth. She felt safe in his gaze, in the warmth of his hazel eyes. She didn't know why but she did. She trusted him. She felt that perhaps that he would understand. But she couldn't bring herself to utter the words. Instead, she shrugged, eating another spoonful. Alistair gave a heavy sigh. He took the empty bowl from Kyra before standing to leave.

"You know…" He turned to her, "you can tell me what's going on. I know we don't know each other very well…but out of everyone here, I feel like I can trust you, Kyra."

"Thank you, Alistair…" Kyra smiled at him, "but I'm fine. Really." Alistair sighed again before leaving. Kyra lay back down, pulling the blankets up to her chin. She lay for a long time just thinking…thinking about a lot of things. She then reached out for her pack and pulled out Elissa's journal. Kyra knew she shouldn't actually be reading it, but curiosity had gotten the better of her.

"…in the midst of all this chaos, there is but one thing that is keeping me firmly to the ground. One person, I should say. Alistair; oddly charming with his awkwardness and wit, not to mention devilishly handsome looks. If mother could see me now she'd halt the entire Blight, just so that we could be married! It may have been only a few months…but it is impossible not to like him. He's always smiling and jesting…he always has the words that make me laugh when I don't even want to smile. Sometimes it is difficult for me to see how he could ever be king! Even when I mask my feelings so well that no one else notices, he looks right at me and knows. Knows that something is wrong, that something is weighing heavy on my heart. Perhaps the taint in our blood binds us in more ways than one. I don't know…I am just forever grateful that he is here with me. Together we are the last Grey Wardens, the two last souls sworn to stop the Archdemon. I don't think I would have made it this far without the man. He is forever watching over my shoulder…but all I can think is who is watching over his?"

Author's Notes: I'm not compeletely satisfied with how this chapter came out. It feels...choppy and inconsistent. I don't know...I guess I'm not over my writer's block yet. I might go over it again and redo it...I'm not sure. Do you guys have any suggestions? Things I should add/change/remove? It doesn't feel finished.

And I really fucking hate it when my changes don't get saved. Excuse my language.