A/N: This is a really short chapter. Way shorter then what I usually write. However, I do have others written, they are just not where I want them to be. I've been MIA for the past few months. I was ill and now our family is expecting another child. So that has made me feel a bit ill lately as well. I'm hoping my next few chapters won't take as long to post. Until next time, I hope you enjoy this little up date. And as always, thank-you all for the lovely comments and support!

Disclaimer : Waiting on DAI...still none of this is mine...

Chapter Twenty-One : Things Lost

The breeze is still crisp, the smell of morning dew still lingers in the air. Alistair can hear the crackling of a fire somewhere off in the distance. Too sleepy to move, he remains still. Muffled voices just outside his tent remind him that they are once more on the road. Immediately, the absence of a proper and comfortable bed is the first thing he misses most. As a wave of pain starts to pool in his lower abdomen, he begins to open his eyes. Gritting his teeth together, he tries to carefully push himself up from his bedroll.

"Your body has not yet finished healing." Morrigan informs as she places a light hand on his shoulder, easing him to lie back down. "We were not able to mend everything. The poison on that dagger was strong."

"How long...have I been out?" Alistair tries to adjust his posture, but he just can't seem to get comfortable. Noticing that he's a bit chillier then usual, he lifts the blankets. To his utter embarrassment, he discovers something rather discomforting. "And where's my armor? And for the love of Andraste...where's my clothes?"

Rolling her golden eyes, annoyed by his bashfulness, Morrigan holds back a snip remark. For now. "To answer your first question. Two and a half days. Your armor and clothing are being repaired and cleaned. With the amount of blood you lost, I'm surprised that you're still able to turn such lovely shades of red."

"Two and a half days..." Alistair repeats this information, stunned. "We need to get moving...we've wasted a lot of time." Again, he tries to prop himself up on his elbows.

"T'was unavoidable." This time the Witch means business and forces him back with less caution. "There have been a few unexpected turn of events. Amell will speak with you of this later, once you've had something to eat and are fully clothed."

"Right." Raising a curious brow, Alistair glances in her direction. "Why are you here?"

"I...I'm just making sure you do not cause yourself further injury. You fool." Morrigan picks up the book she'd been reading and proceeds with ignoring the bastard prince.

"Uh huh...So this is your way of saying 'thank-you Alistair for saving my skin.' " He fails horribly at mocking her voice and tone.

Just as she's about to scold him for impersonating her, Alistiar begins to have a small coughing fit. Hissing in pain, he holds his injured side. Morrigan's eyes land on the bloodied hand print that stains the fur cloak he had lent her. Her features soften once more. Hoping to remove the blood, she had tired to wash the cloak unsuccessfully in the river "Yes. Thank-you." She continues reading. "But do not mistake this as anything more then casual gratitude."

"You're welcome." He smiles and shuts his eye lids. "I'll just rest a for a little bit then I'll get up, get dressed and eat. We really need to get moving again."

The dry leaves crunch under the weight of their footsteps as they continue their journey. As the party continues to head south, it somehow feels as if they are back tracking, even in some small way, wasting valuable time and effort. Keira feels a bit guilty thinking this way, but she can't help it. In part, it's true. Besides the documents and the sword that Elric had informed them of, there really wasn't any real reason to be going back. It just seems a little reckless to be endangering all of their lives to be chasing after pieces of parchment and a dead Kings sword.

However, as she catches a glimpse of Alistair, she notices his posture. Shoulders low, his hands curled around the straps of his pack, he continues following the group. His expression blank, he continues to march on. Out of everyone here, he's the lease happy about heading back. But he's still moving forward.

To the place where his mentor and savior had been killed. To the place where his brother and his King had been betrayed and left to his death. To the place where everything had went wrong and ended for him.

Reexamining everything they've done, Keira decides that this is probably something he needs. A way to final lay his demons to rest.

Tired, Amell pulls out her map and assesses their current progress. They are not as close to Ostagar as she would like. Sighing, knowing she has little options left, Keira quickly makes her way over to Alistair. "Do you think we'd be welcome to rest at Redcliff castle even with The Arl in Denerim?" This is more of a hidden question. An 'are you alright with going to Redcliff' and he knows it.

"Uhm...I'm sure we'd be more then welcomed." Chewing at his inner cheek in a bit of a daze Alistair studies the ground as he kicks at the dirt.

The mage grips his shoulder gently. "Alright, we'll head there. We'll continue traveling as soon as day breaks."

Good thing they had arrived a few hours before supper. The dinning hall is filled with lit candles, and the sounds of chatter. The food is warm and full of flavor, the ale is smooth and the Arl's staff has been very inviting. Everyone's spirits seem to be a bit higher, well everyone's accept Alistair's. Keira frowns at this thought and tries not to dwell on it. Her fingers dance quickly through the pages of yet another ancient book.

"Still reading?" Thalia takes a seat across the table. "You're aloud to have a break every now and then you know. And not just when you have migraines, because I know that's what you were going to say." She winks at the other mage.

"But this helps me relax." Keira's eyes never leave her book.

Gently Thalia reaches over the table, takes the book from her friend and shuts it. She runs a delicate finger over the spine and then places it on the table. "When's the last time we just got to sit with each other and talk?"

"Honestly, I can't remember." Suddenly, Amell feels a bit ashamed about this. Her best friend sits directly across from her, but yet it feels like ages since they've seen each other or even just talked. "How can that be?"

Thalia shrugs her shoulders. "We've been apart quite a bit in the past few months." Her small hand smooths out the tattered cover of the book. "We've been busy."

So much is said in this moment. No actual words were used to describe it, but they both feel it. They're just different from the women they were back at the Tower. "Yeah. Darkspawn and all..."

Thalia's eyes continue to study the book beneath her palm. "How long?"

The other mage understands this question. "You mean..." Me and Cullen, she wants to say out loud. She doesn't need to, Thalia nods, acknowledging her train of thought. Keira lets out a breath of air and pushes stray strands of hair behind her ears. "Since the night you arrived in Orzammar. If that's what you're asking."

"I see." The elven mage glances down the long dinner table to see that everyone is too preoccupied to hear their conversation.

"And you?" Keira thrusts her chin in Fergus's direction.

Surana smirks. "Since we met with the Dalish." She pushes the book aside and folds her arms on the table. "Guess we've both been preoccupied." The elf snorts.

"I guess." The dark-haired mage follows suit and leans her arms on the table. "So why Fergus?"

"Why Cullen?"

"Ha. Fair enough." Amell traces the wood grain in the table with her finger. "But, you know why."

Thalia can't help but grimace. "He's a Templar, Keira."

"Was." Amell corrects. "And that really doesn't bother me. It's actually quite handy."

The elf contemplates this and a disturbing memory replays in her mind. When her friend had been out control, her voice barely recognizable and her behavior had been terrifying. Alistair had to react, to intervene. "I guess...but Alistair was a Templar."

"And?" Keira pushes a frustrated hand through her hair and regards her friend. "This has nothing to do with Cullen being a Templar. Does it? What do you have against him?"

"Nothing." Thalia defends and sits up straight and smiles. "It's just, I guess some part of me always wanted you to live happily ever after, with a prince." She chuckles at this now ridiculous and romantic thought. "You know, like in those books we use to read."

Laughing silently, Keira can't help but be amused. "That's sweet...really." The mage sighs. "But it could never happen and you know it."

"Sure it could." The elf shoots the male Cousland a quick glance. "He wants to get married. At first... I thought he was crazy. But the more I thought about it."

Keira licks her lips quickly. "Marriage. And...you're...wow."

"I wanted you to know, that I've accepted. And when all of this is over, I'm heading back to Highever with him. To help rebuild and start a new life." Thalia reaches over the table and grips her friend's hands in her own. "I'm happy. But you're still a big part of my life and..."

Content and overjoyed, are the first two words that come to mind when Keira studies her friends face. "I'm happy, for the both of you. He's a good man. But you know it won't be easy, right?"

"I know." Surana smiles thinly. "I've gone over it a hundred times if not more in my head. It's the most absurd thing I've ever thought of doing. But it just feels...right."

Keira shakes her head and leans back, her eyes find her silly Templar, laughing and drinking with Ty. "I know."

Thalia follows her friends gaze. "You really do love him." Keira silently nods. There's a loud roar and the men at the far end of the table begin laughing. "I understand. It's just, he's more of a brother figure to me."

The dark-haired mage laughs. "And I was just starting to forgive you."

"For what?" Thalia raises her brow.

"For walking in on me and Cullen. You thought I wouldn't have figured that out?" Keira can't help but bust out laughing at the sight of her friends ghostly complexion.

The night continues with little event. The ale passes around the table, more then a few times. Kate is one of the first to head to bed. Soon after, most of their little group has either turned in for the night, or continues to try and keep up with Oghren's drinking game. Alistair sits by the fire place, starring into his empty mug. This is the first time since Duncan's death that Keira has seen him so depressed. Even then, he wasn't as detached as he is now. He's silent and always seems to be by himself somewhere.

"I'm worried about him." Keira places a hand on Cullen's forearm as she looks over at Alistair. "Could you..."

"Talk to him?" He fills up his mug and grabs an extra one for his fellow Templar. "You look tired. Why don't you head to bed."

"Thank-you." She places a kiss on his temple before she leaves the dinning hall.

Taking in a long heavy breath, Alistair is just about to place his mug on the floor when Cullen hands him another. "You look like you need another."

A bit startled, he accepts the ale and leans back against the high back of the chair. "Thanks." Alistair brings the glass to his lips and takes a generous drink.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You know...head back?" Cullen clears his throat, hoping he's not making the situation worse. Discreetly, he studies the other mans body language and demeanor .

"I...it's not that." The prince rakes a shaky hand through his hair. "I think Eamon's right. That I should fight, for the Throne." Alistair snorts, he can't believe the words leaving his own mouth. "I think in some small manner, I'd be doing both Kailan and Duncan justice if I fought for the Crown. It might even help out the Wardens in the end. Just because I'd be King, doesn't mean I'd stop being a Warden."

He notices that this entire time, Cullen has actually been listening to him. Not just hearing his words, but focusing on what he's actually saying. "I think you're right." The Templar Knight takes a drink of his ale. "You know that no matter what you decide, you'll have all of our support."

"I-I...thank-you." His attention returns to the liquor in his glass. His mouth unable to word how much he appreciates the sentiment. Well that and it wouldn't be very manly of him to say anything more.

Cullen leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He swirls his drink gently and studies the bubbles as they form a small foam. "If you don't want to take up the mantel of King...you don't have to."

Alistair laughs, covering his mouth with a fist. "I know." He hiccups a frothy exhale of air. "But I think it's the right thing to do. Besides, I really do think there's a potential to help the Wardens. Assuming I live through any of this." He takes the last of his ale in one large mouth full. "Plus, with all the time I've put in on the field as a Grey Warden, I'm sure that will come in handy later on."

"Don't forget your Templar training. That's bound to be of good use." Cullen snickers and rubs a tired hand over his brow.

Looking serious, the prince wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He leans closer and brings his voice down low, making sure they are the only two that can hear this conversation. "How are you doing?" He waits for the other Templar to answer. With no response, he presses further. "I've noticed your hands...shaking. Not all the time...but here and there."

Cullen clears his throat and deposits his mug onto the floor. "It...started in the deep roads. I was fine...for the first few days." He rubs his hands together, stretches his back and sighs. "All that raw, exposed Lyrium. I-I guess it was just...too much." The Templar rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable with where this conversation has lead.

"Have you talked with Keira about this?" Alistair sees the Knight shake his head.

"I'm sure she's noticed. We've just been so busy...with everything." Cullen looks over his shoulder to the doorway where the mage had existed not long ago. He brings his attention back to Alistair. "I'm not going to lie. It feels a bit strange...talking to you about this." He rubs his palms over his knees, embarrassed and at a bit of lost as what to do next.

The prince smiles, grips his friend by the shoulder and laughs. "It's quite alright big guy. Better man won and all that. My manly feelings will heal in do time. And as for your...Lyrium issues." The last part he says almost in a whisper. "I would speak with Amell. I'm sure with the amount of reading she's been doing lately...she's probably the one person that knows the most about the subject."