All Over Again

Leliana could barely believe the changes that swept over Aedan. Energy flowed through him, exciting and tangible, and he seemed barely able to contain it. His blue eyes sparked with his renewed vigour and each and every time he caught her gaze, her heart leapt and she was reminded of their first days together as lovers when every touch had been deliberate, every word remembered, every look long and lingering, exclusive of other company and the rest of Thedas.

How long had it been since they spent an entire day together, in bed? Too long – years probably. They spent the hours closing the gap between them, physically, emotionally, mentally. They made love, they exchanged words of love, they touched and they talked. They exchanged stories, their hopes, dreams and fears. They shed no more tears and shared more than a little laughter. They pretended they were children and played games, rewarding each other with more adult prizes. Finally they slept again, wrapped so closely about one another they should not have been comfortable.

She woke before he did and in the fading light of day watched him sleep. How was it he could look so much the same and yet different? More than the number of his new scars changed him. She counted them absently as her eyes roamed from the mark across his forehead to the new bump at the bridge of his narrow nose. Beneath the mark across his cheek she saw some of the new maturity that defined his face now, a hollowness that might never disappear, lines about his eyes and mouth, faint, barely visible, but indelibly etched. The perpetual stubble across his jaw barely hid another scar and, just like her, reaching over his shoulder, one of the new, long lines that scored his back. His ribs were marked in many places, not all of these scars new, and the arm about her had a horrible reminder of the wound that had gone untended for nearly a week. But he was whole and healthy and sound and he looked like Aedan. Now he acted just like Aedan too and this made her smile.

Thedas finally intruded in the form of a hesitant knock at their door. Aedan opened his eyes and in the dimly lit room, Leliana thought the shadows had returned to the cool, blue depths. They had not; he blinked and saw her and his entire face lit with the life he had carried back down from the tower. She almost wished she had gone there with him and shared the moment he remembered he was alive and, ruefully, she wondered if she should have shared her secret earlier, of how Riordan came to be. But it had been his moment and it had happened when it was supposed to, as if divined.

She had told Aedan over five years before that she believed the Maker had led him to her and her to him. She still believed that for many reasons – their quest and their love. The night she had told him she carried his child Aedan told her he believed Riordan was a gift from the Maker. Together, the night before, they had decided he still was. They had both felt the presence of His unseen hand and though they did not dwell overlong in theological discussion, they shared a common belief. The Maker may have turned His back on the world, but He still watched and waited, and every now and then, He encouraged.

Their shared gaze, during which Thedas once again threatened to fall away, was interrupted by another knock, this one less hesitant. Luke's voice sounded through the door.

"Aedan? Leli?"

They were called to dinner and they went, but not before the five Couslands spent a proper hour together during which Rory spoke seriously of his day and demonstrated the fruits of his labors by disappearing and reappearing again across the room, soft footfalls, a quiet bump and an even softer whisper betraying his small journey. Leliana grinned and held out her arms to her son, proud of his determination.

"Next we will work on walking softly, so even gravel will not sound beneath your step."

Aedan snorted and she winked at him, knowing her tall warrior more than made up for his lack of stealth in other ways.

Grace had been practicing too, though not as determinedly, and her path across the room was marked by giggles and flashes of blonde curls as she lost her concentration and decided to turn the display into a performance of a different kind, adding a little dance at the end.

Luke sat through it all with a grin so wide it almost looked comical and he entertained them with a story of his and Alistair's visit to the kitchens and their attempt to make off with a tray of still cooling pastries. Not one of the five Couslands wondered why the king had tempted Luke to steal food rather than simply ask for it. They all had a little rogue inside them, even the noisy warriors.

Over the next few days the rest of Thedas fell away from her and Aedan over and again as they rediscovered one another and Leliana fell in love with her husband once more. She had never not loved him, but as had become obvious over the past few months, they had both changed, so very much. They lived in a world that challenged them constantly, but even without the darkspawn, politics and the trials of their particular choices, they would have met similar problems. They both hungered for knowledge and every fact absorbed changed one's perception slightly. They had their own friends and purposes that would occasionally draw them apart. They had children. No one could have children and not grow with them. Determinedly, they cast aside their differences and past hurts and worked to embrace the changes and incorporate them into the new thread of their lives. They did not ask each other for forgiveness and they did not dwell on the past. There were moments, still, when conversation would falter and a ghost would intrude, but united they said: "It doesn't matter anymore," or "We'll talk about it later, when we are settled." They had time now, not everything had to be said and done in the space of days.

A few instances were not so easily put aside, however.

They were sitting in the gardens watching Rory and Grace play a new form of tag: stealth chase. As always, they touched, their hands loosely clasped together between them.

Aedan leaned over to kiss her neck, his fingers brushing her hair aside, his lips lingering and then he straightened and said, "Why don't you wear the perfume I gave you anymore?"

Turning to look at him, Leliana saw that if she did not want to answer, he'd not press. But she knew this would be something he saved for later. Andraste's Grace, the flower and the scent of it, had become a symbol between them, one of their most enduring connections. It marked the very beginning of their friendship. He had named their daughter for it, to honor her and her mother.

Casting her gaze back over the grass beneath them, Leliana reached out to pluck a thick blade and thread it through her fingers. When she looked over at Aedan again, he watched her hand and the way the stripe of green wrapped about her fingers one by one as she moved it through a simple pattern. He looked calm, restive, thoughtful. Would she wrest the peace from his expression with her story? Guilt flickered briefly as she remembered why she had not told him about Riordan right away, why she smoothed over details of many such things – in her over protectiveness she had wrapped Aedan in a layer of the stuff that had come between them, distance.

"Because I cannot separate the scent of it from Val Royeaux," she finally said, her voice soft. At his perplexed look, she continued. "We have killed so many men, Aedan, I cannot count them. I do not know why it bothers me so that I chose to kill Paul Le Trene." Understanding washed through his pale blue eyes and he squeezed her hand softly. Taking a breath, she attempted to explain it, to herself and to him. "I thought you would die, Aedan. Even if I killed him, Marjolaine would never have been satisfied. His death would have been meaningless, though most deaths count for little, do they not?"

They had talked about Paul Le Trene before and Aedan had comforted her to the best of his ability at the time, he had stayed present long enough to hold her and tell her how sorry he was, but as always, the nothingness had taken him away soon after, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Now he attended her properly and his attitude reminded her of the way he had listened during the Blight, when she had told him of her capture after Marjolaine's betrayal.

"You're right," he said. "Marjolaine would have killed me sooner rather than later. I only have so many bones and, while mad, she was no fool. The less of me that remained, the less of you she would have had, and her attempt at gaining your loyalty would have soured with the stench of my wounds."

Aedan usually spoke very plainly, except when he wrote. His letters always seemed oddly poetic to her as he rarely hesitated to put his heart on each page. Every now and then that poetry would slip into his speech, particularly when he talked of things important to him. She realised now that he'd given Marjolaine's motivations a lot of thought – this should not have surprised her, he'd had ample time for thinking – and she also realised that he had reached the same conclusion that she had. Marjolaine had never intended to let him go, or live.

The twist of grass had started to fray about her fingers and Leliana lifted it to her face, taking in the fresh, green scent of it. "There is a moment frozen in my memory," she said. "As I took aim at his heart it was as if Thedas took in a breath and held it. I could feel my pulse, I could hear the bow stretch and I could smell only one thing: Andraste's Grace." Aedan's fingers touched her cheek and she looked up at him. "I should let it go," she murmured, "and reclaim what is mine."

He looked wistful for a moment as he gazed at her, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "Whatever you decide, Leli." That he would be there with her did not need to be said. His arm moved about her shoulders and he held her close for a few moments, letting his presence comfort her. Then he smiled and a familiar, cheeky glint sparked in his eyes. "We can choose something else, if you like. Many of the scents you have worn over the past few months have been quite nice." So he had noticed all of them… she smiled, surprised and not at the same time. "The lemony one, I'll admit I did not like so much, but there was one that smelled of smooth wood," he laughed, "smooth wood? Ah, you're a minstrel, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. You smelled of apples one day, I liked that also. Reminded me of apple pie." Then his stomach growled and he leaned into nibble at her neck. "Mm, pie…"

Her giggles were joined by Grace's as the children decided that Aedan's attentions looked like play time and joined them on their patch of grass, climbing and crawling, squealing and snuggling.

Their duties separated them for a few days as she sat in almost stunned silence beneath the sheer volume of Lanford Ackerman's words and Aedan spent time with Oghren, Luke and the Wardens. While no longer the Warden Commander, he still had more knowledge of darkspawn than most and he had now had the presence of mind to properly absorb the news of the tainted plague and the Mage. He studied maps and made notes of his own discoveries for the Wardens. He wrote letters to the Order in Orlais, he wrote letters to Orzammar and he attempted to pass on all he knew and to outline all he had planned. His work was apparently well received, according to Luke. He was doing what he could not before: letting go. He was handing the reigns over and tidying his affairs. When they left Denerim, he would leave it all behind – not the brotherhood, but the Order.

Another instance of oddness caught up with them at Fort Drakon one afternoon.

She and Brenna walked over there to watch the sparring matches that seemed to spring up in the afternoon when the soldiers seemed to tire of paperwork and drills. With the Wardens in town, many of the matches had been spirited and both Rory and Grace enjoyed watching Luke and Aedan fight. Rory liked to drag a large wooden dagger about and poke the men in the legs with it, much to the amusement of all his victims and everyone took turns 'sparring' with him. Grace seemed less interested in the weapons than she did her new found stealth and Leliana had to keep an eye on her lest the little girl disappear and reappear in the middle of a match. She and Aedan had decided to give both the children basic lessons in the use of a dagger when they settled at Gwaren. He agreed that learning to hide was invaluable and she agreed that learning to defend themselves was equally important.

Runir and Zevran were sparring and both Rory and Grace became rapt in the display of stealth during combat, the pair of rogues masters at it and neither of them shy in demonstrating their skill and finesse. After briefly watching the spinning daggers and shadowy forms, Leliana looked for Aedan. She saw him sitting next to Alistair and noted his attention seemed to be on the match in front of him, an odd look on his face, then he glanced unerringly at her, as if he'd known she stood there. Leliana shivered in that instant, caught by the unusual intensity of his eyes as he pushed off the bench and strode towards her. His expression softened as he reached her side and he greeted the queen as he usually did, a warm smile and a kiss to the cheek. Then his arm encircled her in a possessive manner and he kissed her cheek also, lingering there as if he'd like to do more. Then his lips moved against her ear and she heard his quiet whisper, "Marin watches you too intently for my liking." There was no accusation in his words, only a statement of fact. Then he dropped down to greet his children and Leliana turned her head just in time to catch the gaze of the Orlesian Warden standing behind her on the steps of the fort. Marin ducked his head and disappeared up the steps and through the dark shadow between the two large doors.

The weight of Marin's eyes had touched her on and off over the previous two weeks. He always acted appropriately, but she never forgot what she'd seen that night at the inn and now she became aware of his attention at odd moments. He never acted other than he was, a gentleman, she knew he'd been raised by noble parents in Val Royeaux and had manners to spare though he never relied upon them. As the third son, his future had been fluid and he'd taken that to heart, escaping the nest of Orlesian politics and taking to the sea at the age of eighteen. It had been on board a ship he'd learned how to cook, having first lied to say he could in order to secure a position, and then having to actually learn to keep his job. He'd sailed for ten years before landing in Ferelden shortly after the Blight, enticed by rumours of a new Order, of dedicating his sword to something other than the next skirmish and his life to something beyond the next port of call. He was a good man, Leliana firmly believed that. He was also a man with a once sided infatuation born first of friendship and second out of care for a friend he perceived as suffering. He would never touch her, she knew that, but his regard would not do him any favours, romantically or in the eyes of his brother.

When Aedan straightened, Grace in his arms, Leliana caught his wrist. "He means no harm, it will fade," she said.

Studying the depths of her husband's blue eyes she saw something she'd never seen before: jealousy. Aedan had never displayed it, he had always been confident in their relationship. He noted other men's interest in his wife with pride and good humour and she had see his eyes stray as well, he naturally looked at attractive women and even commented on their assets on occasion, again, always with good humour. Now he regarded her possessively as if he realised he'd effectively been absent, for some time, and he might have lost her for reasons other than his own distraction. Leliana reassured him the only way she knew how to there and then, she kissed him, properly, knowing everyone around them would be rolling their eyes and exchanging looks at display, knowing it was nothing any of them had not seen before. His looked somewhat mollified when their lips parted and they exchanged a smile.

Alistair and Brenna surprised their friends and the citizens of Denerim by announcing their plans to adopt Henric. Leliana applauded their decision and Aedan added his whole hearted support. The father of two adopted children, he could only repeat over and over how glad he was they had decided to start their family a little early.

Leliana knew Henric and thought him a sweet and wonderful child. He would blossom beneath Brenna's love and Alistair's attention. Aedan took to him immediately, but then, Aedan liked anyone who didn't try to kill him, the one exception to that rule being Zevran, of course. Zevran had an odd attitude towards the boy and Leliana guessed immediately at the cause of the wistful look in the elf's amber eyes.

Moving next to her friend she said softly, "But for the twists and turns of fate, we might all be the sons and daughters of kings."

Zevran turned to smile at her and dipped his head in acknowledgement of her words. "Do you ever wonder where you might be had circumstances been different?" If her mother had not died, if Lady Cecilie had not been kind, if Marjolaine had not recruited her upon the death of her guardian.

"All the time, that is why I tell stories," she answered.

"Perhaps one day you can tell me mine, my friend, the version where I am not the son of a whore or branded by the Crows."

Leliana wondered at his tone, he did not often express bitterness at his fate or the course his life had taken. Another of those odd shivers passed behind her shoulders and she looked closely at the elf. She had no idea how old Zevran was, a little older than her, she thought, old enough to have a life time of bitterness and joy lurking behind his warm, light brown eyes. He would be leaving them soon, she realised then. Aedan would no longer stalk the Deep Roads and Luke had become a man because of (or in spite of) their care. Zevran was not a Warden and only his loyalty to an oath, long released, kept him in their service. That and the ties of family they had wrapped around him and his deep affection for Kayley. He was at a crossroads, Leliana guessed. In one direction he saw the endless patrols with Luke, in another he saw his blades gathering dust in Gwaren. Did he look to the other side, to a future with Kayley or did he currently glance behind, at his past, and wonder when it might overtake him again.

"Zevran," she started, and he looked up from the huddle of children, his face plain for a change, the thoughts she guessed at lurking just beneath the surface. She placed a hand on his arm. "Do not ever forget we are your family."

The lurking thoughts flickered in his eyes and he nodded, and then be became Zevran once more. "And an odd one at that. Have you forgotten my attempts to lure you into my tent, Leliana?" He winked as she chuckled, remembering his offers to show her his tattoos and his indiscreet attempts to enquire how long it had been since she last 'knocked boots'. Aedan glanced up at her laughter and his eyes flicked between her and Zevran and she wondered why he never exhibited jealousy at the closeness of her friendship with the former Crow. She did not ponder it for long, her own words circling back: we are family.

"Will you come to Gwaren with us Zevran, for a while?" Before you leave us…

"Yes." Again his face appeared naked before her. Did he do it deliberately or did she know him so well she could see through his many guises? Now she saw a longing in his eyes, not entirely wistful, but tinged with indecision. "I think it is time to pluck Kayley from those dark tunnels and reintroduce her to the sunshine." He smiled, the curve of his lips almost lascivious, but not quite.

"A good plan," she agreed.

They planned to leave Denerim at the end of the week. It would be a parting of many. The Denerim patrol would accompany them to Gwaren and the Northern Patrol would resume its route. Travers and the men from Highever would return home.

Two days before they were due to leave a man arrived at the front gate of Denerim with news of ghouls. According to Luke and Alistair, this had happened on and off after the plague and the Wardens had dutifully investigated each incident. They had only found evidence of ghouls once and then it had only been the lingering traces of the taint. When Luke described the scene to her, Leliana watched his face carefully, thinking at first she looked to see how he handled seeing so much death at his age, then realising she watched for something else – what he held back. The young Warden idolized Aedan, would it be ridiculous to fear he would turn out too much like his adoptive father? But as Luke spoke, she saw the proper horror in his eyes and the relief that replaced it as he offered his story and let it out. No rage lurked in the depths of his brown eyes only the occasional bewilderment of a young man.

He described the one instance they'd found evidence of ghouls: "Had we not been Wardens, we might never have known the awful, tearing wounds on the bodies were caused by hands that used to be human. They forget, Leli, what it is to be a man."

She remembered. They had encountered many ghouls during the Blight. And of course, the fate would be personal to Luke. He might have become one. Eyeing the slender line about his neck, Leliana resisted the urge to touch it, smooth it away. He did not cover it, he seemed to accept it as scar, a mark of passage, but did not like to talk about it.

While it might be easy to discount news of ghouls from a ragged man at the front gate, a man who looked in need of a bath and a good meal, who had the look of the road and could be a traveler manufacturing tales in hopes of just that: a bath and a good meal, certain details marked his story out from previous such tales. He had come from the road south and said his party had been ambushed by the ghouls. Not fallen upon, ambushed. He also had an arrow wound. Ghouls rarely used weapons and never a bow. They clawed with their hands and they used knifes, stakes, whatever they had about their person. Their weapons were crude and ill kept – a wound from one might fester as badly as any they inflicted with their unnaturally long fingernails.

After the man was made comfortable at the fort Leliana slipped into the meeting between Oghren, Alistair, Aedan, Travers, Rolf and Ben, the leader of the Denerim Wardens.

Aedan looked up at her entrance and beckoned her to his side, a sign of their new, united purpose. Whatever was decided regarding the supposed ghouls lurking on the road to Gwaren, she and he would work together.

"We should all move towards Gwaren, escort the Commander there and investigate the ghouls on the way," Rolf said.

"The Northern Highway has not seen Wardens in over a month, Rolf," Ben put in. Darkspawn sightings were rare, mostly because of the Warden presence. The Northern and Western Patrols moved along their respective highways towards the other side of Lake Calenhad. Even when they met no darkspawn, they carried with them something almost as important, peace. Fereldans watched them pass and welcomed them into their homes and taverns. They felt safe seeing the Wardens on the road, knowing that so long as they were out there, ever vigilant, the darkspawn would remain as they had been for ages: something on the pages of history.

"But if they are after Aedan…" Alistair started.

"No," Aedan interrupted. "I am just one man, Alistair. Rolf is right. The Northern Patrol should resume its course north." After a pause, he added quietly, "In peace, vigilance."

Travers cleared his throat and all looked towards him. "This may seem too simple a ruse," he began, "but if we were to travel north with the Northern Patrol, back to Highever, in much the same formation as you were to travel south, perhaps we might draw the foe in two directions at once, split their focus."

Oghren spoke up. "Before the mage, I'd not have credited any of the blighters with a thought between them, but it seems to me this could be a trap of sorts? It's well known the Commander is on his way to Gwaren, maybe the damned ghouls or whoever is driving them plan to lure you out of the city a few days early, Warden. Before you're ready."

Everyone nodded and made considering noises. What Oghren suggested was entirely possible. The conversation moved back and forth for a while and Leliana listened with interest as the six men tossed out ideas, abandoning some and championing others.

Alistair then turned to her and asked, "What do you think, Leliana?"

All six men looked to her with genuine interest and Leliana moved from the circle of Aedan's arm to the map they had spread on the table before them. Glancing up at Travers, she said softly, "I think Travers' plan has the most merit." She did not ask if the knight was willing to risk his men again, she did not have to. Besides the fact he had already put forth the suggestion, she knew he acted out of genuine fondness for Aedan, concern for his well being, and out of loyalty to the family he had given his oath to, the Couslands. Had Aedan been of Redcliffe instead, Travers might still have made his offer, he was not knight captain of Highever simply for his ability to wear armour and wield a sword. He was a knight in the truest sense.

Seven heads bent together then and a plan was formed.

They did not leave Denerim early, despite the temptation too, Oghren's somber warning keeping them to a schedule of their own choosing. Leliana left the planning to the Wardens and soldiers and spent the remaining two days with Brenna and the children. The queen glowed not only with her pregnancy, the slightest curve now visible beneath the waist of her dress, but in her new role as a mother. Henric often seemed bemused by her attentions, and seemed to adapt well to his new circumstances. Brenna had given him a small room of his own, thinking a large one might overwhelm him and to Leliana's mind, that had been the proper decision. Children's spaces could grow with them, she thought. In the palace Rory and Grace shared a room and complained not a whit, they enjoyed one another's company for the most part.

Their last day in Denerim Leliana ran into Marin in the palace, literally. She rounded a corner, her thoughts inward as she mentally packed the rest of the belongings strewn about their apartment. The children were with Brenna and Aedan was at the Fort. She had been down to the kitchens to check on provisions and the laundry to collect the last of their clothing, a large pile of which she held in her arms. She saw his shadow a moment too late and stepped wide to avoid colliding with whoever approached from the opposite direction. Marin stepped out also, probably to do the same, and they collided. His arms immediately reached to steady her and the folded laundry she held fell about them in a soft explosion of colour, shirts and socks dotted here and there across the floor.

As soon as he recognised her, Marin dropped his hands quickly and stepped back. He looked so uncomfortable and embarrassed and a wave of sympathy for him caught her.

"My apologies, Leliana," he murmured in his familiar accent before he knelt down to begin collecting the clothes.

Leliana knelt also. "I was lost in my thoughts, Marin, it is no matter." She smiled brightly at him, hoping to ease his discomfort. She did wonder at his presence in the palace, however.

He explained it right away. "I came to see you," he started quietly, not looking at her, his attention instead on gathering balled up pairs of socks.

"Marin…"

"Just to say goodbye," he finished. Looking up, he smiled and handed across his collection of laundry. "You look happy again, both of you do. It is… a great relief."

"Thank you, Marin."

"He is a good man, Leliana," he said and she looked at him oddly, wondering at his thoughts.

"As are you, Marin," she offered quietly. "You have always been a good friend to us."

He stood and she followed, her arms once again full of laundry.

"I…" his brows drew together and his gaze seemed caught by a mark on the floor beside his boots. When he looked up, she saw it in his face again, the care and regard he had for her and rather than make her uncomfortable, it saddened her that he still held to it. "I apologise if I made you uncomfortable. I would never have… you are…"

She touched his hand. "I appreciate that you were looking out for me, Marin. I am fortunate to have such a dear friend." Tilting her head, she said quietly, her tone lightly teasing, "She is out there waiting for you somewhere; take the time to find her."

Marin smiled at her advice. "Ah, Leliana, perhaps you have a sister, hm? Someone for the rest of us."

She chuckled at his humour and realised that with it, he determined to move forward. He had come here to say goodbye, in more ways than one. Marin looked up at a step behind her and Leliana did not have to turn to know who had entered the hallway. She knew Aedan's step, she knew his presence, and she saw the apprehension in Marin's face. What had brought her husband to the palace, to this hallway, at this precise moment? Had he been guided by that unseen hand? Or merely the twists and turns of fate?

Marin crossed his arms and bowed. "Commander."

Aedan stopped beside Leliana and nodded his head towards the Warden. "Marin."

An awkward and uncomfortable silence enveloped the three of them, full of all that they knew and all that they thought they might know.

Leliana spoke first. "Marin came to say goodbye."

After a brief pause, Marin said, "There will be a large crowd at the gate tomorrow; I sought a more quiet moment."

She felt her husband tense slightly beside her and held her breath, knowing what Aedan was capable of, knowing intimately the darkness that lurked within, the deep well of rage that seemed to be capped but would probably always be there, somewhere.

Marin again took the initiative. He extended his hand towards Aedan. "I wish you all the best, Aedan. The Order will move forward without you, but only because of you."

Aedan took the offered hand in a firm grip and Leliana let her breath out slowly. "Thank you," he said.

Marin continued, his words taking on a more personal tone. "You look well again, Aedan. Truly. Take care of yourself, hm?"

A forward step had Leliana catching her breath again and something like surprise briefly flashed across Marin's features before Aedan enveloped the man in a close embrace. "Take care, brother," Aedan murmured. Pulling back, he smiled and said, "I will miss your cooking, Marin."

With a grin, Marin replied, "I will not miss yours."

Aedan laughed. "Come fishing at Gwaren in the spring," he invited.

"I will. Cooking fish, as you know, is my specialty."

And just like that, the air between all of them cleared. Marin moved off down the hall and Leliana turned to face Aedan. He watched the Warden retreat then turned to her and said, "I am a lucky, lucky man."

Rather than ask his thoughts, what had led him to choose friendship over animosity towards Marin, Leliana simply smiled and agreed with him. "Yes, you are."

The day of their departure dawned cool and clear and from the city gates Ferelden seemed to spread wide before them, the sky blue and cloudless, the road south long, quiet and beckoning. The children bounced, Luke bounced. Leliana grinned to see the boyish man moving about on his toes, his entire bearing proclaiming his eagerness to be at his work again. In fact, smiles and cheerful sounds abounded. Despite the fact they knew they likely headed towards danger, there was a sense of optimism. They moved towards more than ghouls and ambushes. A mystery would be unraveled and beyond it lay their home and their future. A new beginning where they might start all over again.

After everyone finished their extended farewells, hugs, kisses and prayers, Aedan stepped forward and took her hand, his long fingers curling through hers in a way so familiar.

"Ready for the next step in our journey, love?"

"Always, my sweet Warden, always."

A/N: When I wrote the first hint of Marin's infatuation, back at the inn on the road, I only meant it as another element, a possible direction things could take if Aedan and Leliana were to separate. I don't know that Leliana would have chosen another Warden, to be honest, but I am sure that Marin is not the only man in Ferelden, or the Order who is a little bit in love with her, which is why I included the reminder of Zevran's antics during the Blight. If anything, it was another subtle push for Aedan and something for Leliana to think about.

I did not know how that particular thread would end – I had originally planned for Marin to find Leliana in the garden after Aedan had stormed out of their suite. He would offer comfort (not in a cheesy way, just a hug) and Zevran would find them and escort Marin away. Or perhaps Aedan would find them and break the poor guy's nose. But then Aedan decided to go to the tower and become 'born again' (*lol*) and it just felt out of character for him to resort to such a stunt. So when I wrapped the thread up here, in this chapter, I could easily imagine him stepping forward and hugging Marin as a brother. Marin is one of my oldest Wardens and he and Aedan have been friends for a long time. I'd like to think that superseded all else and that Aedan is man enough, gentleman enough, to take the high road here. I never doubted that Marin would be a gentleman throughout. He's always been one of my favourite Wardens. I'd like to write his story: him leaving home and learning to cook aboard that ship, could be a fun one.

Enough rambling – on with THIS story. Luke is up next to tell us about what they encounter on the road to Gwaren. After that I have only a few chapters left. We'll hear from Aedan again, twice, Leliana, once and Fergus has a sparring match with Lucy. I know this hasn't been my usual sort of story – but thanks to all who have taken this journey to Gwaren with Aedan. Turns out he and Leliana still had a lot of healing to do…