See I haven't forgotten, but as with BfF, I was struggling with writers block. Anyway, one first draft finished (which is terrible) and rewrites to finish this story well in progress, we can get back to it. My main thanks to Darkly Tranquil for reading the terrible first draft and plenty of suggestions on how to fix it up a bit, and also for a few rewrites on the bits that I am just terrible at….

Seated in a tavern, nursing a tankard, Alistair found it inconceivable to think that he had once missed this life. In his first year as King, Alistair had yearned for the open road; the feeling of the road beneath his feet and the anonymity that being a simple Warden had given him when he laboured under the misapprehension that he actually had some control over the direction of his own life. Yet looking back, when he took the Joining it was just another way of binding him to a different life and he would never truly be free of responsibility to something greater than himself; his blood bound him to both the throne and a terrifying fate in the Deep Roads. When he should have been entering a joyous time in his life where he might be blessed by the birth of a child he had never thought he would be able to have, he was instead slinking away from his pregnant wife in the middle of the night to put to rest the results of his past failures

At the thought of Elissa, guilt flooded him and he felt like a wretched excuse for a man. He had left the Palace like a thief in the night, both he and Nathaniel in plain armour so that they would not arouse too much attention. The Grey Wardens were still looked upon dubiously in Ferelden; Aedan Cousland had done nothing to allay the country's fear of the enigmatic order that had once been banished for attempting to rebel against Ferelden's King. He had hoped that travelling anonymously and quickly they would catch up with Morrigan before anyone in Denerim actually realised he had gone, but the witch appeared to be able to stay just out of reach of them and he had already been gone a month. Alistair was somewhat surprised that the Royal Guard hadn't began searching for him to drag him back to Denerim, but it seemed Elissa was content to allow him to continue his mission, although her reasons for allowing it were unclear. It was entirely possible that the Queen was so furious that she did not want to see him as he had left whilst still on bad terms with her. Not that he could blame her if she was furious; she would never understand the true horror that Alistair had turned a blind eye to two years earlier and how dangerous the child Morrigan had birthed could be, not just to his and Elissa's future, but to their child's as well. This was his one chance at putting that right despite it being at the possible detriment to Elissa's safety.

He knocked back the rest of his mead as Nathaniel joined him at the nondescript table at the back of the tavern. Alistair had taken to leaving Nathaniel to do all the talking least he blow his cover because while he was in plain issue armour, Alistair was a little too well groomed to properly pass as a solider now. So while it was all well and good being undercover, one wrong move and Morrigan would vanish again when Alistair really wanted her out in the open…

'She'll be alright,' said Nathaniel, mistaking Alistair's dark expression being one born from concern for Elissa. 'Even now, she's tougher than she looks. She always has been.'

Alistair shook his head, having seen Elissa at her most vulnerable he knew the mask that Nathaniel saw was just an act that she had spent a lifetime perfecting. 'Elissa isn't the same woman she once was,' he said, his voice a little dark as he wondered on the connection the eldest Howe might have had to his wife in their youth.

She had never mentioned specific suitors from her past, barring Dairren Loren, although most of his knowledge of Elissa's former betrothed came from Fergus, not that there was much to tell in any case. No one had ever mentioned a former attraction to the eldest Howe, but he clearly knew something of Elissa for him to remark on her so casually.

'Did you know her well before you left for the Free Marches?' Alistair asked the Commander.

'Not really,' admitted Howe. 'My father singled me out as the black sheep quite early and thus I did not often see the Cousland's outside of formal events, although I was required to escort her dinner when the Teryn and his family visited the Keep. At the time, it was the worst honour in the world. I was glad to escape to the Marches where I didn't have to be paraded about after receiving stern words about not embarrassing my father.' He chuckled darkly as he took a mouthful of ale. 'The Queen doesn't like me in Denerim, does she?' he asked as he put down his tankard.

'You're father ordered the murder of her entire family,' Alistair reminded the Commander. 'After what she endured because of that, I do not blame her for feeling trepidation when you attend court.'

'Nor do I,' said Howe. 'What happened in Highever was awful; killing innocent women and children.' He shook his head, lifting his tankard again. 'I found some of my father's papers after Aedan recruited me, most of them were destroyed when Aedan arrived at the Keep, but my father didn't keep everything important in the same place and the Keep has many hidden spots.'

Alistair raised his eyebrows, interested in what Nathaniel had to say on the matter. 'Why did he do it? From my understanding, your father's friendship with Bryce Cousland dated back to the Rebellion.'

Nathaniel nodded his head gravely. 'Indeed, they both survived the battle at West Hill together, as the Teryn used to tell it, he and my father were trapped behind the enemy lines pretending to be dead for several hours before escaping under the cover of darkness in Orlesian gear which nearly got them killed were it not for Leonas Bryland having the wits to recognise them.' He chuckled at the memory of Bryce Cousland telling the tale in such a manner that would draw laughter from anyone at the table. The memory passed and he looked up, his expression grave. 'I assume you are aware that our infamous Hero assisted my father with the attack? Providing him with all the necessary information on how many troops were to remain in Highever, that Elissa was to be governing the Terynir in their father's absence and where all the family heirlooms were kept.'

Alistair cursed under his breath. He was aware that Aedan had been involved with the attack. Elissa had once told him not long after the youngest Cousland had been banished from the Kingdom that she had suspected his involvement in the deaths of everyone in Highever. As he had listened to her speak about it one night, a good few weeks before she really began to let him in, he had wanted to hold her and tell that her brother would never do anything like it again. At the time, she would never have yielded to his touch nor could he promise such a thing either.

'My father wasn't always like that,' Nathaniel continued on. 'He was a good man once, although there was no doubt he was nothing if not ambitious. I always thought he'd find a way to marry Thomas to Elissa, or Delilah to Aedan, I never dreamt he would allow Aedan convince him to slaughter everyone in that Castle. Why couldn't he see it was needless?' Nathaniel looked Alistair in the eye. 'I want Aedan dead, if he ever sets foot in this Kingdom again, then I will confess that if I find him first I will end him.'

'I suppose it isn't worth pointing out that murder is an executable crime in Ferelden,' said Alistair, 'and not even an Arl is safe from that sentence.'

Nathaniel smiled wryly. 'With all due respect, it would be a Warden matter and I would only be answerable to my superiors.'

Alistair nodded sagely. 'Like the Senior Warden of Ferelden?' he asked his tone of voice just as wry as Nathaniel. 'Who just also happens to be the King of Ferelden?'

Nathaniel chuckled heartily. 'This one could continue well into the night. Am I not your superior so far as Warden business is concerned?'

'Depends on the business,' said Alistair smirking a little bit, enjoying watching the Commander squirm a little. 'After all, we are a long way from Weisshaupt.' Then he shook his head. 'You might think I have more cause than anyone to want him dead, but I've killed a man in revenge before and it didn't make me feel better in the end. However, I will run my own sword through Aedan to protect Elissa but if anyone gets to him first, well, I certainly won't begrudge them. His is a death sentence if he returns to Ferelden, and therefore, justice will be served.'

Nathaniel looked at him surprise, lowering his tankard back the table unsure what to make of the man beside him. As they had travelled across Ferelden, he had seen different sides to the man who was fast becoming a legend. Nathaniel had expected to be dealing with a vengeful King intent on retribution on behalf of his wife. But instead, more often than not he saw a man who did nothing but consider the future, with his only desire being to rectify a mistake from the past even though that mistake had saved his life. Although Aedan had performed the blood rite with the witch, it had only been to save his own measly life in case it came down to single combat between him and the Archdemon; Nathaniel thought on balance that it had been Alistair that truly benefitted from that rite. Neither man had ever confirmed who slew the Archdemon, but if Nathaniel were to put a bet on it, he would bet it had been Alistair given that Aedan didn't crow to the heavens that he had killed the beast that had haunted the nightmares of every Grey Warden for a year.

There were those who said the King was nothing more than a puppet with Eamon and Elissa pulling the strings, but Nathaniel certainly didn't believe it as he watched the man finish his drink and leave for bed. For a moment, Nathaniel pitied the witch that they were hunting because against Alistair, a Warden and Templar both, she didn't stand a chance against the man now. Then he remembered the evil she had created with Aedan and all his sympathies vanished, wishing only to see the bitch and her spawn ended for the greater good. After that, he'd find a reason to head north to the Marches if Aedan didn't show up in Ferelden first. He smiled as he downed the rest of his drink, revenge might not be in the blood of the King, but Nathaniel had nothing to live for; what better cause than to avenge his father's downfall to that little bastard. He tossed a few coins on the table and headed up to his own bed, a plan already starting to formulate in his mind.

-…-

Elissa did not like the Palace without the constant presence of Alistair. She had never fully appreciated how much her husband's energy made the Palace warm and inviting. The quietness and long shadows in the rooms she called her home made even her favourite places of solitude feel unwelcome and threatening. Everything made her feel on edge; Alistair's prolonged absence, the threat of Aedan possibly making a move on her and the constant presence of men she did not know shadowing her wherever she went. Despite being furious when she had discovered he had left without a word under the cover of dark with Nathaniel Howe, her anger had waned so that now she only longed for his safe return. Leliana's convenient return to the Palace had left her with a greater understand of her husband's ire where Morrigan was concerned. The woman sounded despicable; it was little wonder that Aedan had shown interest in her if even half of what Leliana was true.

As Elissa stood on the balcony in the cool air as the first flakes of snow began to fall, she hoped that she would not be alone for much longer. She sighed heavily and turned to go back into her chambers, seeking out the fire as her stomach rumbled for food. As far as Elissa was concern, that was the only improvement in her life at the moment. Her appetite had slowly returned over the past few weeks and it seemed to be making up for lost time. Leliana had remarked one evening that she was now on a par with Alistair's appetite, which she knew not to be true; no one could eat like that man. She smiled fondly before looking up to see the pile of paperwork she had brought with her from her study, slightly despairing at the size of the pile.

The Bannorn had recently gotten wind of the fact that their King was not in residence and they were getting agitated. With the Blight and the Civil War only a few years behind them, the country needed stability to continue its recovery and they were eying the empty throne with trepidation. In the last ten years, Ferelden has lost two Kings and they weren't ready to lose another, in particular one who was successfully guiding them through the reconstruction in the wake of the most horrific war of the last four hundred years.

Her stomach grumbled for a second time and she looked towards the door torn between allowing herself to be shadowed by the guards down to the kitchen or to sneak off through the hidden passages. Running from the Royal Suite to different parts of the Palace, the hidden corridors had been built to allow Ferelden's first family the ability to escape should the Palace become occupied by enemy forces; it was how King Brandel had escaped with his young daughter Moira in tow when the Orlesians finally managed to take Denerim. However, Alistair had discovered that they were really good for sneaking down to the kitchens without a battalion of men on his heels. Thus, Elissa chose to use the route as her means of getting down to the main kitchen. She decided that one good thing was that if she was supposed to be in one place but had secretly moved to another, anyone who wanted to target her would do so where all her guards were waiting for such an event to occur. In theory, she would be safer in the kitchen than where she was meant to be.

The kitchen looked warm and inviting; with the cook having realised that Elissa was making frequent visits she often left out slices of cake or boiled sugar sweets that she seemed to be craving. She hummed tunelessly under her breath as moved around the kitchen putting together a plate of her favourite things, glad to be away from the stifling pressure that came from being trapped in her study nearly all day, every day as she handled both her work and Alistair's. After a month of it, it was little wonder that he hadn't wanted to be King in the first place – in her role as consort she did not have to put up with quiet so many unreasonable and frivolous requests. Her appreciation of Alistair's ability to handle the Bannorn had significantly increased, and perhaps Eamon's early input had helped Alistair get on his feet more than either of them truly realised. Perhaps she had been too harsh in her judgement of the elder statesman when it had come to the crunch several months ago.

She wouldn't have minded a bit of extra experience at the moment in smoothing down the concerns of the Bannorn because she knew her reassurances where not helping particularly when some still believe it was her pulling the strings behind the scenes. A sigh escaped Elissa's lips as she sucked on one of the lemonly syrup sweets that the cook had left out for her. She looked at her plate, bread, meat, cheese but there was something missing. She headed over to the larder and pulled open it open so that see might rummage around for a delicacy that had arrived from Orlais – chocolate. Her father had often returned from his travels there with a few bits for her and her brothers to squabble over when they were young but it was her that had grown up with an enduring desire to eat the stuff regularly. The cook always left it hidden, just in case anyone else were to visit the kitchen, but Elissa knew where it was and the cook knew it was Elissa who took it.

As she laid her hand on the sweet, the pottery plate behind her tumbled to the floor shattering into a thousand pieces, spilling the lemon sweets everywhere. Elissa spun around and looked around at the kitchen that had seemed so warm and inviting but now it was not; the torches in the doorway had somehow blown out but what was more concerning was the crossbow bolt on the floor surrounded by the shattered remains of the plate. She glanced towards the store cupboard, back to the door, then to the plate before her eyes rested on the kitchen knives. Mindful that she had left her dagger in her rooms, she reached over and pulled one of the larger handled knives from its block all the while wondering what under the Maker's Sun had made her believe she was safe here? She wasn't safe anywhere, given that her position of Queen probably made it more fun for those who had a mind to kill her.

A hand wrapped around her middle and over her mouth before she could even scream, causing her to drop the knife as she was dragged into the darkness of the wine cellar behind her – why hadn't she considered that an attack would come from there? She recognised the hand clasped over her mouth and nose, the scent hadn't changed in the year he had been gone and neither had the tone of his voice changed as he whispered in her ear with venom.

'Well, dear sister, what are you doing down here alone?' he asked as he pushed her down the short flight of stairs in front of him before kicking the door shut. 'No one knows you're down here do they? You're little guards are all stood around upstairs thinking you are in your rooms, working on whatever pithy complaints have come in from the Bannorn like a good little Queen should.'

She couldn't see anything but his outline in the dark, but she got to her feet and began reaching out around her for something else that she could use to protected herself with.

'No pleasant welcome home, Elissa?' enquired Aedan as he came down the steps he had just thrown her down. 'A bit impolite of you, didn't Eamon teach you how to greet a Teryn when he returned?'

She could hear the mocking in his voice, the anger mixed in and she could imagine the blaze in his eyes as he advanced on her.

'Or are you incapable of doing anything without Eamon's say so?' He caught up with her and he grabbed her throat. 'Because the rumours aren't true about you, are they, that you are the power behind the Throne? I've seen you Elissa, I've watched you and you are nothing but a pathetic child happy to play the whimpering consort to your precious King.' He tightened his grip on her. 'And where is that precious King of yours now? What a delight it will be when he finds your broken body in the bed you share?'

As the air started to squeeze from her lungs, Elissa brought her fingers up to his wrist and she dug her nails in and dragged them as hard as she could over the taunt skin on his wrist. Aedan let go, hissing before he back handed her in rage, sending her tumbling into some wine barrels and to the floor. She cried out, forgetting that her brother possessed the unnatural strength of a Warden. In her idle hours, she had speculated what it would be like to see Alistair unleash that strength, as she had never had the opportunity to see him fight in a real battle. She had never expected to experience it first-hand like this, at the mercy of her monster of a brother.

'Why are you doing this?' Elissa asked quietly, trying not to let the fear in. 'Why couldn't you have just stayed gone and left us in peace?'

'And let you get away with taking my life from me?' asked Aedan. 'You took everything from me, sister, even before you realised you were doing it. Father's favourite and Mother's little protégé while all the while I was left behind in the shadows with no chance of being anything more than the Teryn's third born child, not even the spare!'

Elissa looked up at Aedan's silhouette. 'They loved you,' she replied, 'they wanted you to make something of yourself outside the confines of the Cousland duty.'

She had asked her father once, why he was not as strict on youngest of the Cousland siblings particularly after rumour had reached them that Aedan had put one of the serving girls with child. Her parents had never been overtly strict, but they had higher expectations of their heir and for their daughter to marry well and make a good marriage. Had they still be alive today, it could be argued that she could not have done better for herself in terms of position or happiness.

'Oh yes, and what was I supposed to do? Join the Chantry and become of drooling Lyrium addled Templar like your husband? Or become of Grey Warden of my own free will and subject myself to this constant barrage of song, driving me to seek, seek, seek?' he spat. 'Or become the Teryn of Highever and show the world what a third child can do, what he can become?'

'You've showed the world what a third child can do,' she said hoarsely. 'You ruined the lives of every single person you have touched all because you didn't understand what our mother and father were trying to do for you.'

He walked over to where she was sat, and dragged her to her feet, his hands going to her shoulders and clamping down hard on her. 'I should have been King, my crowning glory for what I did to save this pathetic backwater of a Kingdom. I led them, not that pathetic bastard that you look up to. They all followed me but he gets all the glory and the Throne, and to add insult he makes you his Queen! You should have died in that attack, cut down just like father was, and mother.' He pushed his sister against the wall. 'He made her beg, our mother, made her kiss his feet as our father died beside them begging for mercy,' he told her with a hiss. 'Imagine what they would have done to you?' He chuckled as his hands came back to her throat.

Fear flooded Elissa as Aedan began pressing down on her windpipe again, but instead of yielding to the instinctive panic that assailed her, she forced herself to think. During her lessons on self-defence from Alistair, he had taught her that the key to survival in a fight was to remain in control and to be aware of your surroundings at all times. Focusing on what he had taught her, she remembered the hunting knife Aedan habitually carried on his belt; she knew it was there because she had felt it poke inter her back when he grabbed her from behind at the beginning of his attack. Dropping her hands so that he would assume she was weakening and lower his guard, she reached out and grabbed hold of the hilt of the knife and then swiftly drove it up into his arm. Aedan bellowed in surprise and indignation, his hand coming away from her throat to grab at the wound she had inflicted.

'You little whore,' he yelled as she ducked away from his grasp.

Her eyes were immediately drawn to the exit of the cellar. If she could just make it to the door, she would have a chance to flee and alert the palace guards. But as soon as she made a move towards the door, she was knocked flying by another still blow from her brother, sending her reeling towards the bannister. She knew she should have dropped the knife, but she was determined not to give Aedan any additional advantage, so she held onto it even as she crashed painfully into the staircase, the sudden impact driving the blade into her body just below her ribs. Elissa gasped in shock and pain as she withdrew the knife from her body; in the sliver of light emanating from the kitchen above, she could see her blood coating the length of the steel blade, running off the point to drip to the floor at her feet.

Aedan chuckled at the sight of it, seeing the blood dripping to the floor, the rapidly spreading stain on her clothes, and the horrified look on his sisters face, her mouth twisted in a grimace as she comprehended at what she had done to herself. 'You've saved me half the job,' he said before he lunged towards her.

Driven by fear and desperation to protect herself, she raised the bloodied knife just as Alistair had taught her as Aedan lunged at her, and drove it into the side of his neck as hard as she could. The sensation of driving a blade into flesh, the feeling of steel grating against bone and the surge of hot blood that poured out over her hand as she withdrew the blade, was something she had never discussed with Alistair during their lessons and it left her shocked and horrified, more so because it her own kin that she had struck. Aedan staggered back from her with a surprised grunt and fell back on the floor like an Orlesian marionette with its strings cut. Lying on the floor in rapidly expanding pool of his own blood, he feebly attempted to put his hand over the wound to staunch the flow, but it was clearly a vain effort. For a few scant moments, Aedan gasped and twitched as the life ebbed from his body, then he went limp as his struggle to cling to life ended.

Exhausted and weakened from blood loss herself, Elissa expended the last of her strength to drag herself away from her brother's body and the expanding pool of blood around it. She made it to the stairs and, using the bannister to haul herself upwards, dragged herself towards the light of the kitchen and the possibility of assistance. As she laboriously ascended the stairs, her who body shook from the shock, exertion, and blood loss of her struggle for life; she grimaced with every step, one hand pressed grimly to the oozing wound in her belly, idly wondering in her pain induced haze if the small miracle of life had survived the onslaught that Aedan had subjected her too.

'I'm so sorry,' she said to the babe. 'I should have… I'm so sorry…' Her mind drifted to Alistair as she collapsed back into the stairs, another whispered apology to the man she loved and then nothing.