Author's notes: I'm trying something different here, in the second part. Got inspired by one of the wonderful stories I'm following. Hope you'll enjoy!

The next couple of days were fairly busy for both of them. Work had piled up in their absence: people to meet, paperwork to settle, disputes to arbitrate. Kaylee also met with the court physician and the resident mage to assess the condition of her health. They gave her a strict diet to follow, as it was determined that she was severely lacking some important nutrients. He also gave her precise information on her fertility cycle, which he always did. It just wasn't relevant before. But now…

Alistair was pretty busy himself, and she sometimes went through whole days without even talking to him. He would already be gone when she woke up and went to bed long after she was asleep. Still, he found little ways to let her know he was thinking about her. She found a single rose on her pillow when she went to bed alone one night. He had a beautiful necklace of silver and greenstones delivered to her in her office, on a day she was so buried in paperwork she just felt like throwing all the carefully arranged piles of papers out the window. She frequently found little folded notes in her pockets, her books, under her plate. "I love you," they were all saying.

One day, she had a note of her own delivered to him in the middle of a meeting with his counsellors. "Tonight. I'll be waiting. Don't be late. Love you too."

For Leliana, Zevran and Nathaniel, life at court was not so busy. It was, in fact, lazy, bordering on boring. They saw very little of their royal friends. There had been no word about some eventual visit from Weisshaupt representatives, no new idea on how to help a certain someone survive a very fatal loss of blood. They divided their abundant free time between training and sparring, reading, and spending lazy, comfortable evenings in front of the often deserted dining hall fireplace, playing some friendly gambling games with complicated rules or listening to Leliana sing.

That evening was no different. Zevran and Nathaniel were trying this new card game one of them had learned from some mercenaries at the Gnawed Noble, and neither of them knew half the rules. It made for some interesting, if moot, debates. Leliana was sitting by the fire, idly playing her lute.

"So now I show you my hand, yes?"

"Yes. I think. No. Wait. We show it together."

"All right, then. On three."

They both laid their cards on the table, eyeing the other player's hand, comparing it with their own. A long silent moment passed. "So… who won?" Zevran finally asked.

"I have absolutely no idea, so I'm gonna say… I did."

"Oh, that's just cheating."

"No, no, see? I have more of these cards here."

"You don't even know if that is good or bad."

"Well, neither do you."

They looked at each other for a minute, then sighed simultaneously, pushing their chairs away from the table.

"This is a stupid game," Zevran declared, sitting on the floor and leaning back to rest against Leliana's legs. Nathaniel sat in a chair opposing them.

"How about a story, then?" he asked. "You were a bard. You must have tales to share."

"You sound just like her," Leliana smiled, shaking her head. "It is true I have not been I a storytelling mood, these past weeks. All of the stories I can think of are horrible and sad, with… inevitably fateful endings."

Zevran reached back to put a tender hand on her knee. "Tell us, amora. It might make you feel better."

Leliana stayed silent for a while, and the random notes she was playing slowly took a more defined, soft rhythm. The music was sad and sweet, when she began to talk.

"Once upon a time, there was a kingdom overlooking the sea. It was a small, beautiful kingdom, and the people that lived in it were industrious and happy. The king was strong and just, and he was married to a beautiful and caring queen. They had one child, a daughter, and she was their pride and joy. She was as fair and kind as her mother, and as fierce and just as her father. The people in the kingdom were all happy to know that one day, she would be their queen."

"But in the forest, not so far from the castle, lived an ugly, angry witch. She would watch the happy royal family in the castle from a distance with hatred and jealousy. 'Oh, how I wish I could be as happy and beautiful as the princess, and how I wish I could be queen and have all this power!' she would whine in the solitude of her small, dirty hut."

"One day, a desire demon heard her plea and came to the witch. It promised her beauty and power, and the which accepted the offer. The demon taught her blood magic, and it promised to come back in ten years to take possession of the witch's body, for such was the deal she made."

"Once in possession of these immense powers, the evil which started terrorising the villagers, throwing awful evil spells to ruin their crops and kill their cattle. Soon, the people went hungry, and called to their king for aid. The king sent his most trusted knight to deal with the witch. When the knight arrived at the small hut, he only saw a sickly old woman curled up on her pallet. Misled by her fragile appearance, he let his guard down, entering the hut to offer his help. The powerful witch then unleashed her magic on him, extracting all the blood from his body to feed her power. She discovered that she could use other people's blood to replenish her own body, making it younger and more attractive. She began her terrorising strategy anew, hoping to get more of the precious blood from her victims."

"The second knight sent to the hut by the king found a lovely young woman waiting for him, beckoning him enticingly from the pallet she was laying on. No more prudent than the first one, he entered the hut unguarded and met with the same fate as his predecessor. The evil witch grew younger and more power-hungry than ever before."

"When the third knight came to the hut, he was wary, for he didn't know what had happened to the first two. He did not fall for the witch's carefully prepared act of seduction. He stayed on his guard and asked to speak with her from a safe distance. When the witch reluctantly agreed, he asked her what she wanted in order to leave the peasant's crop and cattle alone, so that the people could eat. 'I require blood,' she said. 'On the first day of each month, one of the villager will bring me his firstborn in sacrifice. Only at that price will I leave the peasants alone.' The knight brought the dire news back to the castle."

"Overwhelmed with sadness, the king mad a public announcement in front of all his subjects. 'If there is a man who can kill this witch and bring peace back to our kingdom, I shall give him enough gold to cover him entirely, and as much land as he can see without moving. But until such a hero shows himself, I am afraid we have no choice but to agree to the evil woman's demands. Each month, every father will take a pebble from this jar. They are all black, except one which is red. The father who takes the red pebble will sacrifice his firstborn to the witch.'"

"And for months, it was so. The attacks on the farms ceased, and the peasants started working in their fields again, although the village was now a scary and unhappy place to live. Those who tried to flee the kingdom found themselves caught in the witch's traps, and the villagers heard her laughter as she feasted on their blood. On the first of every month, every father took a pebble from the jar, and the father who took the red pebble led his firstborn to be sacrificed to the witch. The people knew that such was the price of everyone else's life."

"But the witch had greater plans, and her time was running out. She had grown powerful and gorgeous, but it was not enough. So she changed her appearance and went wandering in the village. The peasants tried to convince her to get away, afraid that the beautiful young girl they thought she was would be seen and killed by the evil witch. When the girl asked to know what was going on in the village that had everyone so scared, they told her the whole story. She cried and wailed in sorrow with them. 'But I do not understand one thing,' she said wily, and the people gathered around her to listen. 'Is the King not a father? Why does he not draw from the jar as you all do? Surely it is his duty to keep you all from harm from the evil witch? Maybe…' she leaned closer to them, whispering enticing, convincing words, putting them all under her spell: 'Maybe if the witch could have the blood of someone as pure and lovely as the princess, she would stop asking for more sacrifice.' The crowd surrounding her murmured in anger and revolt, and went looking for the king at the castle, shouting and brandishing pitches and forks, demanding that the king took a pebble from the jar in the next draw."

"While the King had the great doors of the castle barred to protect his family, the princess stood at her window and listened to her people's plea. She finally appeared at her balcony, raising her hands to demand silence. 'My people, I have suffered with you as your children were taken, and I can suffer no more,' she said. 'If you believe that my sacrifice will stop this madness, then there shall be no draw on the first of the next month, for I have already decided that I will be the one to be sacrificed to the witch. May my death bring joy and peace back to the kingdom.' As the crowd erupted in cheers, the king, who had heard his daughter's speech, sat on the floor and cried, for he knew there was nothing he could do now to protect his only child. In the crowd, the disguised witch was smiling wickedly, for she knew she had taken the first step to ruining the royal family and reign in their stead."

"There was someone else in the crowd who had heard the princess's speech, and it had filled him with despair. It was the third knight, the only one to survive the encounter with the witch. He was not the bravest of the knights, nor the strongest, the fastest or the quickest, but he had secretly loved the princess since they were both children. He decided he could not let the princess die and so he saddled his horse and rode far and wide in search of a solution. The witch, still in disguise amidst the people of the village, did not see him leave and so did not stop him. The knight spoke to hundreds of people, explored countless ruins, read a thousand books to try and find a way to get rid of the witch. But the month was ending and he wasn't any closer to finding a solution. He resigned himself to riding back to the castle unsuccessful."

"On the last night of the month, he was asleep and dreaming in his tent when a spirit came to visit him in the Fade. 'I am a spirit of Valor,' he said to the knight. 'I have watched you for some time now, and have found you worthy. Tell me what is it you wish to accomplish.' And so the knight told the spirit about his love for the princess and about the evil witch that wanted her death. The spirit listened to his story and recognized the evil ways of a demon working in the shadows. 'I shall help you in your quest,' he said. 'Take this bow. You need to dip the point of the arrow in the water of the castle's fountain. This water is pure and enchanted. When you see the witch absorbing the blood from her victim's body, that is when you need to strike, for that is her only vulnerable moment. You have to shoot her in the heart, and she will die.' "

" 'Thank you,' said the knight, and just then everything went black. When he awoke in his tent, the spirit's bow was at his side, and the sun was rising. He rode to the castle as swiftly as he could. When he got there, however, the guards told him that the princess was already on her way to the sacrificial altar. He dipped an arrow in the fountain, then got back on his horse and rode as fast as his mount could carry him."

"Meanwhile, the King was escorting his daughter to her death. He cried and sobbed as he tied her up to the altar, but she remained calm and serene, and even found the will to comfort her desperate father. When she was bound he turned his back on her and left her there, as the ritual demanded. The witch came to the princess when she was left alone, bouncing with glee, for soon she would feast on the most noble of blood."

Leliana's voice trailed on the last word, and she remained silent for a while after that, her fingers still playing the chords on her lute. Both men were staring at her expectantly, holding their breath: "And then?" Nathaniel finally asked. Leliana shook her head.

"There is one happy ending to this story, but the legend says it is not the real one. In the real story, the knight arrives too late at the altar. He gets there just in time to see the last of the blood leave his beloved's body, and by the time he notches his arrow, the witch is gone, and the princess lies dead. He goes back to the castle and wait. The princess's blood makes the witch more powerful than she ever was. As the witch uses her new power to storm the castle gates and kill the royal family, he gets another chance and kills the witch with the spirit's bow, saving the King. He then drops the bow, walks out of the castle and throws himself off the cliffs overlooking the sea. He wanders the Fade for eternity, forever in search of the love he could not save. Sleepers claim to have seen him in their dreams, crying and asking for help before mysteriously disappearing."

They all stared silently at the fire for a long time, after that. There wasn't anything else to say.

Kaylee was sitting at her vanity, slowly brushing her hair, when Alistair finally came in. She looked at him in the mirror as he walked to the table, discarding boots, vest, untying the laces of his shirt. She glimpsed his eyes widening slightly as he noticed she was wearing a thin satin nightgown that barely made it past mid-thigh, and nothing else. Her lips were silently moving as she tried to keep counting brush strokes, but she had lost count a long time ago and had been repeating the same numbers for a while, now. It was as good a delaying tactic as any.

He grabbed the liquor bottle on the table, poured two glasses, and walked to her. Putting the drinks in front of her, he gently took control of the brush, setting in aside. His hands lingered on her shoulders and, after a while, she reached up to touch one of them, her other hand closing around her glass. She sipped, not meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"Come," he murmured, taking her hand and leading her to the fireplace. She sat in the comfortable chair and leaned towards the fire, rolling her glass in her hands. He sat by her, nursing his own drink.

"If we wait," he said suddenly, "we could buy you more time. We have three years. If you get pregnant now, we might not even have that." She could see it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

She shook her head. "But if we wait, three years may pass without me conceiving. And then the throne would have no heir." She raised her hand to silence him when it looked like he was going to argue. "If we do not have a child in three years, I will still have to fulfill my promise. And if I… don't come back… then you will have to remarry. And consummate." Her gaze fell back on the flames. "If we have an heir… then you won't have to." She sighed. "I'm sorry. The thought of you with another… I just can't stand it. Even if I'm gone. It was hard enough the last time…"

She got up to refill their glasses, then sat back with a sigh, leaving the bottle at her feet.

"The options we have right now are not much of a choice. But if we wait just a little, at least until we find a way to keep you alive…" he pleaded again. She interrupted him.

"I want this. I don't want to wait. Don't push me away now, love. I need you…"

"I would never push you away. Never." He reached out to her, pulling her in his lap. Her head came to rest against his shoulder, and her lips trailed along the curve of his neck, found his earlobe and suckled lightly. She heard him suck air in through his clenched teeth, and he surrendered to her with a slight bow of his head, a soft sigh.

Alistair stood up, picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He put her down gently, laying himself down at her side. She rolled to get over him, her hands on each side of his head, her hair falling in a curtain around his face, and peppered slow, lazy kisses all over his cheeks, his closed eyelids, his chin, finally resting her lips on his mouth, and waited. He raised his head a bit in an automated response, applying some pressure on her mouth, and started kissing back, softly at first, then more fiercely. But his lips were hard under hers, his jaw unyielding; his kiss did not taste of tenderness and passion, but of sadness, and a hint of desperation. She broke the kiss, held her head back to look at him. He didn't open his eyes, turned his head to the side as if to avoid her gaze. "Alistair, please…" she breathed, and saw his face wrinkled as if her words had caused him pain. She bowed her head to kiss his neck, teasing the soft skin with her tongue, and she felt his throat shiver as he let out a strangled gasp. "Please…" she repeated softly, and with a sigh he slid his hands under her nightgown and pulled it over her head, then pushed against her shoulder until she lay on her back. He sat up, removed his own shirt and pants and tossed them on the floor. He leaned over her, naked skin against naked skin, and kissed her briefly, without meeting her gaze. His lips traveled down her throat, along her shoulders, then lower, between her breasts. She let herself get lost in the sensation of his mouth on her, and moaned helplessly when his tongue found her nipple. He stopped at the sound, and she felt his whole body shudder above her, his forehead resting against her breast. He pressed his whole face against her skin, inhaling a deep, shaky breath, then he collapsed on top of her, crushing her under his weight. He let out a muffled sound, halfway between a groan and a sob, and she felt her heart break.

Without a word, she slid her hands in his hair, smoothing his blond locks with her fingers. He crawled up her body to lay his head on her shoulder, his forehead against the curve of her neck. His hand came resting on the soft skin of her belly.

"I can't do this…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm sorry… Each time I touch you, kiss you, I feel you're already slipping away. It's like I'm pushing you to your death. If I love you tonight, and you bear a child from this love, it means we only have nine more months together. This was supposed to make us so happy, and now it just feels like a horrible nightmare…"

She slid a hand under his chin and forced him to look up at her. "This is not what's going to happen," she said with absolute certainty. She sat up and he followed her movement, finding himself on his knees beside her. She got on her knees herself, facing him on the bed. "Listen to me," she urged him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "We're going to find a way out of this. We always have so far." He shook his head, unconvinced. She took his hands in hers, placed them on her hips. His fingers started caressing her skin almost automatically. She shifted closer to him, one of her knees slid between his thighs as her arms wrapped around him and her hands clawed firmly at his back.

"What we have between us… this thing that's only ours… it has always been about fire," she murmured in his ear. She let her tongue follow the edge of his earlobe, felt his hands pause on her hips as he inhaled sharply. "The lightest touch, the briefest glance, is all it has always taken to light it up, to make it roar." Her fingernails scratched their way down his back and she felt his body respond, almost involuntarily. "Ours is a fire that burns, and cleanses," she breathed, hot air brushing his skin, and she took his earlobe between her teeth, nibbled at it, while her hands continued their way down and clawed at his buttocks. He moaned softly, his hands grasping her hips and making them grind against him. "Fire that warms, and comforts." She let her body slide down his, her hands still firmly gripping him, holding him against her.

"Fire that consumes to give strength, energy, life." Her lips trailed down his throat, his chest, punctuating each word with a light kiss. He groaned wildly, grabbing her by the arms and making her straightened, bringing her up to look at him. His eyes were dark, and burning, and hard, and she returned his gaze without flinching.

"I need it. I need you to keep me burning," she said fervently. "I need to feel you, to touch you, to feel the heat. If I am to keep going and get myself out of this mess, I need this fire inside me, to fuel me." She lay on her back, dragging him with her, looking intently in his eyes. "I want you," she whispered feverishly. "I want your strength inside me, to complete my own. I want to bear your child, and make it so he can grow up knowing his mother." Their faces were mere inches from each other. She could see the determined set of his jaw, the burning intensity of his eyes, and she clenched her teeth, stifling a moan as she felt him thrust himself deep inside her. They began to move, slowly, purposefully, silently, staring at each other with a consuming passion. The steady rhythm sped up as the heat built up inside her, their breathing more and more shallow, and she wrapped her arms around his back to claw at his shoulders, holding on to him with all her strength. He didn't close his eyes, looking at her with the same fiery intensity and she stared right back as their body moved as one, grinding and arching and finally releasing in an explosion that left them gasping for air.

He collapsed onto her once again, and she chuckled softly as she ran lazy fingers up and down his shivering spine. "You were amazing," she whispered. He groaned against her skin. "I can't move," he sighed. "The things you do to me, my love… the Chantry was right to warn me." He tilted his head back to look at her, resting his chin on her chest. She ran her fingers through his hair. "There is nothing we can't do, if you're with me," she said fervently. "Never fear, love."