Note: The link to the illustrated version of this story (all chapters posted) is on my profile page.

Alistair was pretty sure that Lis didn't stop worrying just because he'd asked. Well, not asked, 'told,' and to stop blaming herself, not to stop worrying. That worked about as well as trying to tell Lis to do anything. But then, you really couldn't control anything that went on in people's heads, and it would be bad if you could.

Worrying, or blaming herself, Lis was very quiet on the journey to Amaranthine, and that was unlike her.

And yes, the way their plan had gone awry worried him, too, but not as much as what Lis might do should Anora react the way he suspected she would. It's not like anything was that very different for him. The situation had never been good.

He tried to tell himself that Anora might not notice the chatter about his activities, she might not find out that he'd announced that she'd brought him back herself, that gratitude for his help might outweigh the threat of his continued existence—if he promised very, very nicely to be behave.

But he knew those things weren't likely. And he knew Lis would blame herself. He just didn't know what to do about it.

He tried to put what might happen to him out of his mind. Kallian and Avernus were what he needed to be thinking about right now, not a future that had never been a beacon of hope.

They'd already been to the Deep Roads entrance in the Knotwood Hills, and it seemed unlikely that Kallian would have a blood mage experimenting on people at the Vigil. Alistair decided the abandoned silverite mine in the Wending Wood was their best bet. The Architect had found it a good place to do all manner of disturbing things, perhaps Avernus would as well.

After they made camp in the Wending Wood, setting up their tents, and making a late dinner, Alistair opened a bottle of wine that Leliana had bought in Denerim, and gathered everyone together.

"Tell us about the silverite mine, Anders."

"Well, the most important thing to know is that we can't get in through the main entrance. It's blocked. We were trapped there by the Architect and he put a sleep spell on us so he could steal our blood—not everyone's of course, just those who were Wardens."

"Piss and damnation!" Lis scowled and her fist pounded her leg hard enough to make Alistair wince. "All this stealing of blood is…bah! More people need to die for that than do."

"That sounds rather personal." Anders tilted his head and looked at Lis.

Alistair shook his head. "Leave it, Anders."

Glancing at him, Anders raised his eyebrows. "Right...back to the mine it is…. We'll have to get in through the back entrance. That leads to a couple of surprisingly grand rooms—ruins of some earlier structure, I'd guess.

"The first is huge, like an arena. It has a balcony in it that could be used by archers or mages, if they've decided to guard the entrance. There's a passage behind it, maybe to the Deep Roads, but the Architect closed the entrance. We didn't find another, so I don't know how they'd get up there.

"The second is just a glorified staircase leading into that room, but there are platforms on either side where attackers could be waiting, with alcoves beneath."

Anders picked up a piece of kindling and started sketching a rough map in the dirt. He pointed at two small rooms just past the staircase. "If the blood mage is living there, this is probably where. It's where the Architect and his tainted lady friends lived."

"Oh, I soooo don't want to know." Alistair shifted sideways, giving Anders more room to draw. "What's all that?"

"I think it was the actual mine, a whole bunch of caves and tunnels. They were full of darkspawn when we were there. And this…" Anders drew another section on the top left of his map. "…is the Architect's research area—if you want to dignify it with that name." He looked at Alistair. "If there's something going on down there, that's where we'll find out what it is."

"Of course, the living quarters and the work area are on opposite sides of the blasted mine—typical." Alistair sighed. "I suppose we'd have to search the whole thing, anyway." Refilling everyone's cups, he said, "Tomorrow, we go to the mine, then."

Alistair stood and walked away from the fire. This could all be over very soon. With any luck, Avernus would be dead, and Kallian…well, he'd probably have to kill her, too. He knew that. What he didn't know was how he felt about it—and that was confusing in itself.

It wasn't that he had any kind of feelings left for her. She's betrayed him more than once. She's tried to kill him in the most cold-blooded way he could imagine. And he'd spent most of the last three years wanting to kill her a good bit of the time. But the idea of really doing it was unsettling, even so.

He turned back to the fire and looked at Lis. She was listening something Anders and Leliana were talking about, her expression intent.

Anything could happen tomorrow. He could die. Any of them could. Lis…no, not unless he died first, not if there was anything he could do to stop it.

If they survived, if Kallian and Avernus were both dealt with…he'd have to go to Denerim to report to Anora. Anything could happen then, too.

His thoughts chased each other like a mabari pup chasing its tail, circling around and around. Before he knew it, he'd walked back to the fire with the urgency of a man pursued, and was staring down at Lis, feeling a little frantic.

She looked up at him.

Now he had to say something, or she'd think he was a lunatic. "Lis…. Uh, could we talk for a minute?"

"Certainly, Alistair." Lis rose to her feet. "Is everything all right? You look a little…."

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Everything is—Maker!" Alistair took a breath, and then waved a hand toward the edge of camp. "Can we just…?" He led them into the woods until the fire was no longer in sight, out from view, and more importantly, earshot. An audience was the last thing he wanted.

When they were entirely alone and some distance away, he stopped and turned to Lis. "This could all be over soon, and I don't know what will happen, so there's something I need to say."

He looked away from her, into the trees. "I haven't really told you about what happened after the Landsmeet, about the Free Marches, or Orlais. It's not something I'm proud of, but I was in a very dark place. I…had no hope. I didn't believe that would ever change."

Alistair faced her again, stepping toward her, hoping she could see how very much he meant this. "You changed that, Lis. You gave me hope. I need you to know that, no matter what happens, it was worth it. Absolutely worth it." He brushed his fingers across her cheek. "This might not end the way I'd like, and if that happens, I don't want you blaming yourself. Nothing about this is—"

"Alistair—"

He raised his hands "No, wait. Let me finish." Taking a breath, he tried to steady his nerves. He wanted to say this right. It might be his only chance. "I've come to…care about you—very much, and those aren't feelings I thought were possible, either. I…shouldn't be saying anything. It's not fair for me to bring it up, given my situation, but I wanted you to know—just in case."

"In case…?"

"In case I don't…." Alistair waved a hand. "Hope and certainty are two different things. That's why I can't…. I won't ask if you feel the same, because I have nothing to offer you as things stand, not even the certainty that I'll still be…in Ferelden by the end of the week, but if I am, if it turns out that—"

Lis shook her head.

"Oh. I thought you might…okay." He started to turn away, his heart sinking like a stone.

"Alistair!" Lis grabbed his arm and pulled until he turned back to face her. "I'm shaking my head because it's ridiculous that you think you have nothing to offer, not because I don't care about you!" She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned close to give him a long, slow kiss that left his heart pounding.

Drawing back just enough to speak, her breath warm on his cheek, she said, "Nothing is ever certain, as we both well know too well. I'm not going to bide my time until you've decided things are perfect enough, lest I wait forever."

She kissed him again, her lips soft, but moving against his with an urgency that echoed everything that Alistair felt for her. He lost all capacity to resist. He didn't know what the right thing was anymore, and Maker help him, he didn't care. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him and let that kiss be the only thing that mattered.

When Lis lifted her lips again, his breath was ragged, and his self-control was all but gone.

She spoke, her voice uneven. "I'm concerned about Anders."

What? Lis wanted to talk about Anders now? That was…weird. And probably not good. "Anders?"

Her mouth was moving along his neck, his jaw, oh, Maker's mercy, his ear….

"He doesn't have a tent. He might catch cold. I think you should give him yours."

"Mine? But where…oh." He smiled. "Right. I'll do that…in just a…."Alistair kissed her again, his fingers slipping into the long dark hair that he seemed to have freed from its usual confines, his lips moving downward until he was stopped by her armor.

"Oh…Maker…. Alistair, if we don't go back now, I'm going to start shedding armor right here and I don't fancy having bits of forest poking me in the bum."

Lifting his lips from the smooth skin of her neck, Alistair grinned. "Your desire is my command." Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back to the path and they hurried back toward the camp hand in hand, slowing only when the fire's light became visible through the trees.

As they reached the edge of the clearing, that warm glow fell on Lis's face. It touched her smiling lips and tousled hair. Her eyes shone as she gazed at him with an expression that made everything he'd gone through worthwhile, if that's what it took to bring him to this place and time.

His heart swelled. Alistair was both speechless and filled with a need to act on the joy that overwhelmed him. He pulled Lis to him, enveloping her in a tight hug, burying his face in her hair.

When he pulled back, there was a question in the lift of her eyebrows, although she said nothing.

"Just congratulating myself on being alive." Touching her cheek, he ignored a sudden flutter of nerves and said, "I love you, Lis."

She covered his hand with her own. "I love you, too, Alistair. Don't ever doubt it or think that will change." Smiling, she took his hand again and drew him into the clearing. "Come on. Let's go give away your tent."

All eyes were on them as they approached the fire. A little smile played on Leliana's lips. Oghren smirked, but was mercifully silent.

Anders lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "Way to go, Templar-King."

"Uh…my tent…. You can have it."

Anders looked at Lis, his smile widening. "Sure you don't want to wait until you find out if his feet smell or he drools on the pillow? Give it a trial run, as it were?"

Lis gave Alistair's hand a squeeze. "I'll be in the tent."

"Coward." His hand tightened on hers before he let go, smiling. "I'll just get my things."

Ducking into his tent, now Anders's, Alistair slung his weapons on his back, grabbed his pack, bedroll and spare armor, then carried the unwieldy armful across the camp. He dropped the bedroll twice and the breastplate once. Two trips would have been much easier, but there was snickering from the campfire and Oghren was talking. Whatever he was saying, Alistair knew he didn't want to hear it.

Lis heard him coming and pushed open the tent flap, reaching out to take the splintmail and drag it inside. She'd stowed it on one side of the tent, next to her plate, which she'd already removed, leaving herself clad in a blue gambeson and buckskin pants. She looked beautiful—and touchably unarmored.

He handed her his sword and shield then pushed the pack into the tent ahead of him, crouching to get through the entrance. Nodding to the pack, he asked, "Where do you want this?"

"Anywhere you like, Alistair. This is our tent, not mine." Lis grinned. "Of course, if I were to make a suggestion, I'd say…there." She pointed to an empty space near her own pack.

"Right. Suggestion taken." Alistair moved the pack to the place she indicated. He knew how suggestions from women about living space went.

Once the pack was stowed away, he reached through the tent opening to grab his bedroll, pulling it inside where he could unroll it next to hers. The tent was just big enough to allow that.

Closing the entrance flap, he dropped down next to her and let out a huff of air. "Well, that was about the most blatant thing I've ever done. Am I blushing? I am, aren't I?" He leaned over to pull the last remaining pins from her hair so that it tumbled down her back, shining and dark.

Lis reached out to unfasten the straps holding his breastplate in place. "I predict more blushing in your future, then. I can think of much more blatant things we could do."

Alistair turned so she could reach the ones in back, grinning. He liked the sound of that. "Are you going to enlighten me?"

"I think I'll just show you when the occasion arises." She lifted his breastplate off and crawled past him to put it with the rest of their armor, giving him a lovely view of the backside of her buckskin pants.

Maker's breath.

Alistair leaned over to unfasten his greaves, trying to decide whether to bring up one last thing that he thought needed to be said. He didn't want to, and it probably wasn't something that Lis would want to talk about either, but….

Keeping his gaze firmly on his greaves, he forged ahead. "Lis…uh, I was wondering…well, I like Fergus, and I'm grateful to him. If we do this, is he going to feel the need to kill me? Because I'm not very good at secrets, and he's probably going to be able to tell how I feel about you—that we're…together. And I don't want to keep it a secret from Fergus. He's your brother and…my friend, I guess."

"You don't have to guess, Alistair. He is your friend." Lis lifted his hands from his greaves, and pushed him backwards so that he was lying on her bedroll, his head pillowed on a folded blanket. "What would you do if I said he'd be waiting at the gates of Highever, sword drawn, hmm?" She undid the last of the straps and pulled his greaves off, first one leg, then the other.

"Lis—"

She pulled off one of his boots, tossed it toward the pile of armor, and gave him a wide smile. "He won't be, Alistair—he likes you. He respects you. Fergus also knows that I wasn't made for a conventional life, married to some arl and running his household."

The second boot joined the first. "I love fighting and I love the freedom of the road. I'm happiest living a warrior's life. Fergus will be happy that I've found someone with whom I can share that."

Alistair had a notion that a brother's feelings about such things might not be so simple, but as Lis pulled herself toward him, her body brushing the length of his before lowering herself to him, he decided to accept what she said.

It was more because he wanted to believe it than because he thought Fergus would be thrilled that his sister had take up with a bastard prince—one with nothing to his name and a dangerous life, but he couldn't walk away. He wasn't leaving unless Lis asked him to. Maybe not even then.

As he reached up to run his hands through the soft hair hanging around her face, Lis said, "That is, if you haven't changed your mind."

He lifted his head from the improvised pillow so he could see her more clearly. She wasn't smiling. "You don't think that, do you?"

"I'm just saying that if you want to go back to your tent until you've spoken to Fergus…."

"No! That's not what I want at all." Alistair's arms tightened around her and he rolled them over so he could look down into her eyes. "This is between you and me, Lis. If you want me here, there's no where else I want to be. Not ever. I just don't want Fergus to think this is…casual, or that I'm—"

"A cad? A scoundrel? A bounder in knight's clothing?" Lis was smiling again, thank the Maker. "He's met you, Alistair, remember?"

She moved beneath him in a way that refocused his attention entirely. "Now, if honor is satisfied…." Lis unbuttoned his gambeson. "And you're staying…."

Pulling off the padded shirt, Alistair reached for Lis. "I'm not going anywhere. Not willingly."

Alistair was lying beside Lis, head leaning on one hand, when she awoke. He smiled at her—really, he just widened the smile that wouldn't go away, and a foolish one it was, he had no doubt.

She blinked at him, yawning, then stretched.

Andraste's mercy! He sincerely hoped that he got to see that every morning for the rest of his life.

"Alistair, were you watching me sleep?" She blinked again and rubbed her eyes. "That might be a little disturbing if you didn't have such a sweet expression on your face."

Okay, sweet was good, not particularly manly, but much better than foolish.

"Why are you wearing your armor—do you enjoy peculiar things you haven't yet shared with me?" She squinted at the opening to her—their—tent. "The sun is rising! You were supposed to wake me when you finished your watch!"

He sat up. "You were sleeping so soundly, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I went to sleep—without the armor. I only got dressed when I heard Anders get up, so I could ask him a couple of questions about the mine." Alistair reached out a hand to brush a tangled lock of hair back from her face. "I wanted to wake you, believe me, but I don't know what we'll face today, and I want you at your best."

"If you wanted me at my best, you would have woken me last night." Lis grinned.

Alistair lifted an eyebrow, smiling. "That couldn't be more true." He leaned down to kiss her. "Second best, then."

Rolling onto her side, Lis propped her head up as Alistair's had been a moment before. "So instead of a charming lover, I wake to find an armored man in my bed." She winked at him. "I won't ask about the sword."

"Maker! You're as bad as Oghren!"

"As heroic as you look in full plate, I think you look more heroic in nothing at all." She reached up and ran a hand along his jaw.

"I could get used to hearing things like that. Speaking of which, have I told you that I love you?"

Lis smiled and gave a little nod.

"Yes? Well, it won't do you any harm to hear it again, will it?

She shook her head and pulled herself closer, sitting up to wrap her arms around his neck. "I love you, Alistair." Giving him a kiss, Lis pulled back to look him in the eye. "And that plate you're wearing is bloody cold. I better get dressed."

Alistair spotted her gambeson at the end of the tent near her feet and handed it to her as she wiggled into her pants. That was fun to watch, too.

As she did up the last button on her gambeson, she looked up at him with a smile that was very different than the others she'd given him that morning. "Let's go kill a blood mage."