Thank you to everyone reading, favoriting, and reviewing! I hope you all continue to enjoy the story as we move into the post-game. Standard disclaimer—BioWare owns everything pertaining to Dragon Age and I just borrow.

Even with the city still in piles of rubble everywhere, it was a day of celebration. Reconstruction was proceeding at an astonishing pace. The people of Denerim were fanatically loyal to their city, and would not see it destroyed for long.

The entire company of travelers were at the grand feast held, for lack of anywhere better that was in appropriate condition, in the Chantry. The entire company other than Morrigan, that is. She hadn't been seen since the Archdemon was killed. The result of her ritual would, hopefully, not be known to them. Ever, Thora thought. She was seated at the head of the banquet table with Alistair, but spent very little time sitting. During most of the feast, she was moving about the room, talking to some people, arranging for messages to be sent to others. By the time the banquet drew to a close, she knew what she would do about rebuilding the Grey Wardens.

People began to leave in small groups, going back to wherever they'd found a place to stay. Thora's group had agreed to meet by the big fireplace in the kitchen at the Arl of Denerim's estate, that being as close as they would get to gathering around a campfire. They all knew this would be the last night.

But before that, she needed to speak with Alistair.

She strolled back to the Arl of Denerim's estate with Oghren. He was the other person she needed to speak to today. She eyed him appraisingly. Drunk, that was a given … but not so drunk as he would be later. "Oghren."

"Warden?"

"What are your plans, now that the Blight is over? Will you go back to Orzammar?"

"Not sodding likely! Being up here on the surface still feels like being drunk every day … without having to drink a thing."

"Then what will you do?"

He belched, looking thoughtful. "I could look up Felsi again. She didn't seem too happy to see me … but Little Oghren might convince her."

Thora let that one go. "I was wondering if I could ask you to stay with me in Amaranthine for a while?"

Oghren chortled. "Think the little Wardens could use some seasoning, do ya?"

"I think you could be very useful to me and to the new Warden recruits. Will you stay for a while? We can even try and contact Felsi for you."

"By the Stone, Warden, you've got yourself a deal! Let's drink to it."

"You drink, Oghren. I think I'll pass." They were entering the Arl of Denerim's estate now. "And Oghren?"

He burped at her.

"Remember to meet us in all in the kitchen later. And we'll be needing to leave tomorrow. Around midday. Okay by you?"

"If we have to go, might's well go soon. Before someone hands us a sodding can of nails and expects us to go to work, eh?" He laughed heartily.

"A good point." She took a deep breath, then headed for the Arl's study. She stood outside the door for several minutes, smoothing her sweaty palms over the dress someone had found and forced her to wear. She had reason to be thankful for the current styles, though … they made everyone look pregnant. Eventually she knocked on the door.

"Come in." Alistair was sitting behind the desk, leaning back in the chair, looking surprisingly comfortable. "You know, I knew you were there."

She looked at him, startled. "Ah, yes, the taint. Makes it hard to sneak up on another Grey Warden, doesn't it?" She took a chair on the other side of the desk. Armorless and seated, she felt small and vulnerable and ill at ease.

There was a long silence, then they both started to speak at once. Alistair held up a hand. "Me first. Please? Don't make me assert the royal privilege." She nodded, glad to hear him making jokes about being king now. "I just … wanted to apologize for how moody and sulky I've been."

"There's no need to apologize," she broke in. "It was … a lot to get used to, with a lot of uncertainty ahead. I don't think any of us were exactly at our best."

"Maybe," he said. "Earlier today I was talking to G—someone," he corrected himself. It occurred to him that perhaps Gorim's confidence had not been meant to be shared. "And I was reminded by that conversation that before we were … us," he stumbled over the word, and he saw her eyes close for a moment. Taking a deep breath, Alistair went on, "we were friends, and partners, and Grey Wardens. As you go forward to rebuild the order here in Ferelden, we will have to continue to work together. Not only because it will be your duty to report to the king." He gave her a self-deprecating grin, but she could tell he was starting to get used to it. "But also because I am still a Grey Warden, and I can't pretend not to be. Rebuilding the order is important to me, and I want to be part of it as much as I can. I assume you won't have a problem with that?"

"Of course not."

"So given all that, it would be nice if we could go back to being … friends. Partners in the Grey Wardens." He touched the amulet on its braided chain at his throat. "Some things will never change. You know that. I know that. But I will have to get married and provide an heir to the kingdom. Will you … will you be all right with that?"

Thora was staring at him, wide-eyed, but filled with pride. What a long way he had come in such a short time. "To be honest with you," she said, "I … have to be. Don't I? There's no other choice. Friends, partners, Grey Wardens? Absolutely, and with great pride. Throwing rice at your wed—" The word caught in her throat and would not be said. "Uh, ceremony? That I'm not so sure about. Hopefully I'll have some time to get used to the idea."

"I don't know how much time," he said. He wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed by her response. "The Landsmeet is determined to have me married off as soon as possible."

"Probably wise of them." She sighed. "I'll be all right with it. Or I'll have a very good excuse not to be here for the actual … ceremony. Come to think of it, wouldn't that be easier for you?" All she could think of was that it would probably be either when she was too vastly pregnant to show herself, or right after she'd had the baby. Either way, not the best time to attend her lover's wedding.

"That's a good point." He ran his hand over his face. "Yes, now that you mention it, that might well be best. I'll try to get you some extra warning before the event … whenever it is … and will make excuses for you myself. You're right. I'm not sure I could do it, either." It would be just like him to say the wrong name in his vows or do something equally foolish. Much easier if she wasn't there.

"So we're okay now?" Thora asked hopefully. "Past all the anger and the bitterness and the … everything? At least enough to perform our duties?"

He nodded.

"Alistair, do you— You don't regret … what we were, do you?" The words were nearly a whisper. But she needed to know, needed to hear it.

"Never. Without you, and … everything we were together, I would not be fit to sit in, well, in the king's chair," he said, remembering that he was currently sitting in the Arl of Denerim's chair. "Do you?"

With an effort, she resisted the urge to put her hands over her belly. "No. You've been—" But she couldn't finish. Not now. She put a hand up to her hair, which had a tendency to tousle now that it was short. It was a good look for her, actually, made her look a bit softer, he reflected, but he got the message and understood why she no longer had the words. Or couldn't share them with him.

"You wanted to say something," he said.

"I did. I wanted to tell you that we'll be leaving tomorrow. Wynne and Oghren are both going along with me."

"Really? I thought Oghren was off to find some dwarf woman. Folsi or Felsi or something like that?"

"He, um, seems to need to work up the courage for a while," she lied.

"And I was hoping Wynne would stay with me." He looked disappointed.

"I believe she plans to be back in a year or so. I think she said she wanted to get her fill of travel while she still could, and then is hoping to, ah, how did she put it? 'Rest her old bones in some comfy perch in the castle.' So see that you provide her one, young man!" She shook her finger at him in imitation of Wynne. They both laughed.

Sobering, he asked, "You're leaving tomorrow? That seems … soon."

"I know. But the sooner the better, wouldn't you say?" They stared at each other across the desk for a long moment. Thora was the first to look away. "As far as the Grey Wardens are concerned," she said briskly, "I'll be spending the next six months or so studying the order, learning whatever there is to know, and setting up Amaranthine. Thank you for that, by the way." He inclined his head. "As such, I won't be doing the active recruiting during that time."

"Who will be?" he asked in some surprise.

"I'm setting up a network. You, of course, should feel free to send on any promising recruits. First Enchanter Irving, Teagan, Sergeant Kylon of the Denerim Guards, Lanaya of the Dalish, Gorim in Orzammar, and Shianni in the Alienage will all be keeping their eyes open for recruits as well. Any they find will be sent on to Orzammar."

"Why Orzammar?" he asked. "Why not to Amaranthine for training?"

"They'll fight darkspawn under Kardol of the Legion of the Dead until he thinks they're ready. At that point, he'll send them on to me at Amaranthine, and we'll go from there."

"That sounds well planned, Warden Commander."

She stood up. "Is there anything else, Your Majesty?"

The dark eyes flashed, but he didn't protest. "No, I think we've said all there is to say. Don't you?"

"Actually, there's one more thing. Don't be surprised if I'm not back in Denerim until the anniversary of our victory over the Archdemon."

"That— That's a year!"

"I know. I think that's needed. You need to not be able to depend on my advice, I need to focus on rebuilding the Wardens, and we both need the lack of … distraction, if we're to succeed in our tasks."

Alistair sighed. "Fair enough. A year it is."

"Thank you. Are you coming down to the kitchen? It's our last night."

He nodded. "Give me a few minutes, please."

"As you wish."