He was a liar and a coward.

Alistair sat hunched over the desk in Eamon's study, forehead resting on his arms and his eyes closed as he tried to ignore the pounding of his temples. Various papers were scattered around him. Most were routine orders authorising an assortment of uses of Crown goods and money as a means of aiding the recovery of Denerim. Only waiting for his approval since Eamon had already discussed each and every one with him, there was nothing strenuous to the task and certainly nothing that could not wait another night. But if he pretended that the documents were of urgent importance then perhaps he could fool himself that he did not have to go bed. And if he could persuade himself of that then the question of which bed he should go to would not have to be answered.

Eamon had made no further comment about Elissa or an heir but Alistair had little doubt that it was not through any compassion on the Arl's part. The sheer volume of details and issues which the Arl presented him with had absorbed both men's attention for the remainder of the day. Eamon had at least been patient with him as they worked, explaining each problem, its implications and then offering a solution. Eventually Eamon had taken pity on the inexperienced monarch and suggested they take a walk through the city to clear his head. Alistair had readily agreed but found himself regretting his keenness as the Arl's ulterior motives became apparent. Paraded through the streets under the guise of overseeing the instructions Eamon had already issued, the only benefit was that Alistair had at least been able to speak briefly with Oghren and Zevran. Sten had remained taciturn as always but the Qunari had at the least acknowledged him. The sign of begrudging respect was hard won but Alistair had resented it as another reminder of how things had changed for and between them all.

But there had been an unexpected advantage to Eamon's charade. Very much their Hero, their gratitude and concern for Elissa overrode any sense of propriety and the people goaded one another on until a few brave souls had addressed him directly with their concern for her. Murmuring that she was recovering, there had been a mixture of responses from a squeeze of the hand to a grateful prayer to the Maker. With each kind word for her, his smile had grown warmer and his response less stilted. Witnessing the change in the demeanour of their King, their confidence had grown and interspersed between platitudes for Elissa were shy congratulations and good wishes for their betrothal. With each remark, Eamon's expression had grown increasingly disapproving and he had intonated that perhaps it was time to return to the estate. With a sense of reluctance, Alistair had bowed to the older man's pressure and excused himself from the centre of the crowd. But the warm sense of relief that whatever the Arl had initially thought, it would not be a simple matter for their betrothal to be dismissed allowed him to meet the brewing storm on Eamon's face without flinching.

Not that it was the betrothal itself which was the real issue. Eamon himself had acknowledged Elissa's bloodline. It was the heir. And he was not so foolish that he could not appreciate the logic of Eamon's argument. The problem was that he had no wish to be logical. Even so, Eamon's words continued to echo around his head and now finally left to his own devices as the sun vanished below the city walls behind him, he found himself dreading the thought of returning to Elissa. And he felt a deep hatred towards Eamon settle in the pit of his stomach for that.

With just one short conversation, the Arl had stolen any peace he found being at her side. And not because the conversation had changed how he felt about her but because it had served to highlight even further the strength of his feeling for her. But by continuing with their relationship, he would threaten to destroy them both let alone the country they had risked all to protect.

Eamon had not spoken of it but both men were aware of the potential solution. He found it to be a bitter reality that as King he was expected to provide an example to his people and yet a betrayal of himself, his future wife and their vows taken in front of the Maker could and would be tolerated if necessary. No. There would be no mistress and no bastard child, demon or otherwise, to provide an escape from the already restrictive reality of his new role. But then to make such a decision only seemed to cause the problem to wrap itself all the more tighter around him. It made no sense to fight against the inevitability that he and Elissa would be unable to conceive an heir. With all that they were faced with, perhaps it was better to break apart, take comfort from what had been and allow each other to go their separate ways.

No, there had to be another way. Maker, he would find another way. Please.

The sudden burst of resolution prompted Alistair to sit up and push away the darker thoughts that he could already sense on the periphery of his mind. He rubbed at his eyes and took a steadying breath, picking up a paper at random and squinting at the writing in the dim light of the candles.

The spluttering of the flames as the door was thrown open only served to hamper his attempt further and he looked up to be met with the sight of a dishevelled Zevran. Normally cool and collected, the elf was breathing heavily with his armour caked in dust and his face streaked with dirt.

"Zevr..."

"The Orlesian Grey Wardens are at the city gates. They are..." the elf tried to steady his breathing while he was searched for a word to accurately convey the reason for his current state. Failing to find a suitably ornate phrasing, he settled for, "Discontented."

Alistair cursed under his breath, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. Eamon had mentioned that some messages had arrived during the chaos before the Horde had attacked Denerim, including the news that with Loghain's death the borders had opened and that the Grey Wardens were travelling to Denerim. No further message had been sent or at the very least, received. On top of all else, Alistair did not relish the task of telling them that Riordan had died.

"I thought you would be interested," Zevran nodded.

"Come with me," Alistair stalked out the room, gesturing that the elf fall into step with him. "Do you know anything else?"

"No," Zevran had to lengthen his stride to keep pace with the man. "I came here as soon as I heard."

The maze of corridors between Eamon's study and the entrance hall seemed to stretch on. But their quick pace meant that even if the time seemed longer, the time taken to cover it was shorter. As they neared the hall, a servant crossed their path and Alistair called out to him. The young elven boy balked at the sound of the man's voice and froze, casting eyes to the floor as he waited for the reprimand he expected.

Alistair threw a helpless look at Zevran who just shrugged.

"Uh... it's alright. You're not in trouble," Alistair tried to reassure him. "Do you know if the Grey Wardens have arrived?"

The elf gave a small nod. "They are waiting to be received. I'm to inform the Arl."

"It's alright, you don't need to bother Eamon. I'll speak with them," Alistair ran a distracted hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. "Would you see that food is made available for them in the hall?"

The boy bowed and scuttled away towards the kitchens.

Alistair drew himself up and took a brief moment to gain some composure. Zevran watched the obvious effort with some amusement, arms crossed across his chest as he himself exuded an outward calm that was the result of years of practice. His breathing had stilled and aside from the dirt which remained on his armour and skin, there was no outward sign that the elf was affected by his companion's anxiety.

Stepping through the door, Alistair felt as the six pairs of eyes bored into him. Three humans, two dwarves and an elf. All men and all shared the same aura of self-confidence which both Duncan and Riordan had possessed. Suddenly very aware of his own status as the second-newest Ferelden recruit, Alistair desperately looked for some sign that would help him identify who the commanding Warden was.

"Our greetings to you, Warden," one of the dwarves stepped forward and offered a hand. "I am Argarth, one of the Warden-Commanders in Orlais." He gestured at the elf who was studying Alistair intensely. "This is my Second, Torih." The elf acknowledged his Commander's introduction with the slightest incline of his head.

"You're very welcome," Alistair looked to all members of the group as he extended his courtesy. "I can't promise the greatest hospitality but we'll try our best."

"Any small amount of generosity will be welcome after our journey," Argarth completed the necessary parlay of manners.

"I've asked one of the servants to send some food to the hall. If you would..." Alistair began but trailed off as Torih began to fidget, shifting on his feet and shooting a look at Argarth that was clearly intended as a demand of some kind. The tension between Commander and his Second caused the remaining Wardens to glance between themselves. There was the smallest movement as Argarth shook his head and the elf gave a muffled growl of displeasure.

With a heavy sigh at his Second's blatant indiscretion, the dwarven Commander turned to Alistair. "Where is the other Warden?"

"She is resting," Alistair tried to hide how the behaviour of the elf was unsettling him.

"But she is alive?" Torih demanded before Argarth could speak.

"Yes." The caginess of his response did not go unnoticed and the elf bristled.

"If she is alive then we must speak with her. Now," he hissed at the dwarf.

Argarth held up a hand to quieten him. "My apologies, Alistair. We have much to discuss and Torih is not one for patience." His jaw clenched as he shot a silent order to the elf. "It is late. We can discuss everything in greater detail tomorrow."

For different reasons, both Torih and Alistair gave a reluctant nod in agreement.

"Now, you mentioned food?" the dwarf enquired.

"Uh, yes," Alistair signalled one of the guards standing near the doorway. "Will you show the Wardens to the main hall? And will you ask for rooms to be made ready for them? The ones nearest mine are empty."

The guard saluted and the group of Wardens fell into step behind him. Argarth lingered behind for a few moments. "Torih is right in that there is much to be explained. Can I expect a full report from you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Alistair responded to the air of authority with which the dwarf spoke.

Argarth clapped Alistair on the shoulder before moving to join Torih who had stopped in the doorway to wait for his Commander. Both elf and dwarf vanished from sight and Alistair allowed himself to breathe again. Turning back from watching after the small contingent, Alistair caught Zevran's eye. The look of distrust etched on Zevran's face echoed Alistair's own suspicions.

"What do you think?" he asked the elf.

"Perhaps it would be advisable to check between your shoulder blades for a knife?"

Alistair snorted, massaging his temples. "So you got that feeling too?"

"It seems my distrustful nature is rubbing off on you," Zevran allowed himself a sly grin. "I am glad to see something of mine has."

The grimace which greeted the statement caused the elf to laugh outright. "Alistair, we must keep our sense of humour, no?"

"Let's just keep your sense of humour separate from mine, shall we?"

Zevran gave a dramatic sigh but obediently turned his attention back to the point in hand. "Perhaps we are overly suspicious."

"Maybe," Alistair studied the doorway through which the Wardens had vanished as though he could determine the hidden intent simply from studying the space through which they had passed. "Where's the Guard-Captain? Actually, who is the Guard-Captain?"

"Don't worry, I'll go find him. What are your orders?"

"I want two guards posted outside Elissa's room, on a constant rotation. None of the Wardens are to enter her room."

"As you wish," Zevran bowed to him before heading towards the main doors.

As the elf disappeared into the night, Alistair turned and deliberately headed away from the main hall. A few months ago he would have eagerly chosen to join the Wardens but the need to evade the details of recent events required more energy than he had right now. He really needed to go to bed.

With a rueful sigh, he discovered that the unexpected arrival of the Grey Wardens had at least helped him address one problem. He had finally decided on which bed to go to.

Standing at the window with the night breeze drifting across her face, Elissa felt the telltale scratch of the taint even before Alistair knocked on the door. Her slight movement as she turned towards the door in expectation caused the mage to look up from the healing poultices she was crafting in the corner of the room.

The knock which came was soft and the mage rose to answer it. The various candles dotted about the room spurted in the draught and some blew out as a murmured conversation went on between the mage and Alistair, though he was yet to enter into the room.

The woman looked towards Elissa who gave a small nod, guessing that the mage was seeking clarification as to whether he should be allowed in or not. With a small nod, the woman stepped away from the door and gathered up her various herbal ingredients. She spared a smile for Elissa before she left. "I will see you in the morning, Warden."

Without waiting for a response, the mage slipped from the room, nimbly manoeuvring around Alistair who had stepped in. As he closed the door, more of the candles blew out and the room was left in an odd gloom that was interspersed by small flares of light and the dull glow from the embers of the fire.

Still at the window, Alistair crossed the room and curled his arms around her while his chin rested on the top of her head. There was a small thrill through her body as his arms provided a barrier of warmth against the coolness of the night air. She leant into him and they stood in silence for a while.

The peace in the room was disturbed by metallic clink of armour plating echoing from the corridor outside. The eligible daughter of a wealthy Teyrn, it was a noise that was not unfamiliar. For whatever reason, there were now guards outside her door. The lack of reaction from Alistair revealed that he had expected and was waiting for the telltale sounds which confirmed the execution of his orders.

Elissa wrestled out of his hold. Holding him at arm's length, she searched his face for a clue as to what was happening. "Something's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong, love," he made to draw her back against him but she dodged his touch and retreated from him. Her legs came up against the side of the bed and she stumbled back against it, sitting down abruptly.

He was lying. More than that, he was lying to her.

Elissa studied him as best she was able in the dim light. He had stayed next to the window, aware that he was the source of her anxiety even if he did not fully understand why. Framed as a silhouette against the clear night sky, the tension that now flooded his body was evident. None of the relaxed ease with which he usually held himself, even the way he titled his head as he watched her was oddly controlled.

He was struggling. And he was trying to hide it from her.

Elissa chewed at her lip. It would be so easy to accept what he was telling her. What did it matter if armed guards had been placed at her door on his order so long as they remained on that side of the door. It was no longer her responsibility to worry about what happened on that side of the door.

But he wasn't on that side of the door.

Tentatively she pushed herself off the bed and took a half step towards him but the thought of knowing exactly what was wrong and then the inevitability of having to do something once she knew made her stomach heave and she ground to a halt once more. What use was there to her knowing? There was little that she could offer; her mind was too shattered to provide any type of solution so perhaps there was no point in pushing the matter.

But then it was not the matter itself that truly concerned her; it was the effect it was having on him.

Closing the gap between them in a rush so as to prevent any further doubts, she wrapped her arms around him and willed the tension from his body to diffuse through her. Surprised by the sudden intensity of her response, he snaked his arms around her waist and rested his hands against the small of his back in the same way he had done whenever they were alone in camp. But the intimate familiarity of the movement was disrupted by the stilted way he leant down and placed a self-conscious kiss on her cheek instead of pulling her against him as he had always done.

The conflicting messages confused her. This from the man who had still told her he loved her even as she had attempted to distance herself even further from him? The tickle of his breath against her ear sent a shiver up her back and she turned her face upwards as he made to straighten. The movement caused him to hesitate and she took advantage of it, tilting her head and drawing him into a kiss. Her touch was gentle this time without the frantic desperation that had motivated her on the rooftop. Her tongue lightly traced across his bottom lip and if she hadn't already suspected, the odd mixture of reluctant eagerness with which he allowed his own to find hers spoke more than anything else.

Partly to test him further and partly because the rediscovery of a connection to him was difficult to resist, her hand wound up towards his neck and drew him harder against her. Even as she felt the small beat of the pulse beneath his ear quicken, his response to her kiss became even more restrained and the confirmation of the contradictory signals forced her to pull away. Stopping only inches from his face, she searched it intently as she finally forced herself to challenge his lie. "Yes, there is."

Her insistence was rewarded by a weary half smile as Alistair gave up the pretence. He moved past her and sank down on the bed with a heavy sigh. Seeing him so closed off while he dealt with whatever demons were haunting him, she had a small flavour of the pain he must have felt each time she had shut him out from the increasingly heavy burden she felt resting on her shoulders.

At a loss, Elissa settled next to him with her feet trailing back and forth over the cold flagstones. Her small toe caught a rough edge and she stifled a hiss at the sting, drawing her legs up to examine the cut.

"What's wrong?" he turned his gaze from his hands to her foot.

"A cut," she muttered, wiping away the small bead of blood with the back of her hand. Her hand stilled as she examined the smear.

"What is it?"

"I did the same, that night. Well actually it was against the edge of the fireplace. I was pacing, got out of rhythm, stubbed my toe," the triviality of the subject freed her tongue. "Hurt like hell."

The splutter of laughter warmed her even more than the arm he voluntarily laid across her shoulders. "Pushed through, did you?"

The smile that had almost reached her face faded. She fixed a hard stare on her toe. "Must've."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, seeming to prise them even further apart.

"We need to talk about what happened," Alistair found the courage to bridge the gulf. "Maybe not now but we need to talk. About... everything."

It took her a few moments before she was certain that the words would not stick in her throat and suffocate her. "Now. Let's do it now."

He turned to eye her. "It's late, love."

"Either we talk about what happened or we talk about what's worrying you now."

Alistair shook his head. "It's nothing that can be solved tonight."

"Then let it go until morning," she placed a hand on his knee.

There was a long sigh before a nod. "Alright. Us, it is."

Elissa swallowed, her partial bluff called. She agreed that it needed to be done but in truth she wasn't sure she was ready to talk. But then what time would be right to explain all that she had to? In an attempt to gather herself, she moved from the bed and snuffed out the remaining candles until only the embers of the fire provided any light.

Disorientated, she shuffled back towards him with arms partly outstretched. Alistair caught hold of her and guided her back to her seat next to him. Enveloped in the dark, with only the sound of his breathing and the gentle touch of his hand resting on her leg to remind her that she was not alone, it was as easy as it was ever going to be.

Elissa took a deep breath. "I should probably start..."

Alistair lay with his eyes closed and Elissa nestled against him in the crook of his arm. The cool edge to the night had eventually forced them beneath the bedding and they huddled together in an effort to regain the heat that had slowly been stolen away from them as they had talked.

It had been an odd discussion. Conducted with a sense of inevitability which helped them both to keep their tempers from exploding or their guilt from overwhelming them, there had been no raised voices or tears. Yet the anger and resentment had been palpable; on both sides. Months of unresolved tensions that neither had even really been aware of, too caught up in the tumultuous events that had reached into every part of their lives and snatched away any sense of routine, were suddenly laid painfully bare. Frustration and exasperation at habits and traits that had become ingrained in each of them; hurt and betrayal at the overlooked or unnoticed needs from both sides; guilt and shame of the failures each had committed to the other.

And then finally a mutual acceptance. Unremarkable and unannounced, the sense of it washed over them and cleansed the last of the doubts and fears from them. Acceptance that mistakes had been made, acceptance that each had regrets and acceptance that forgiveness and understanding would take more than one night of soul baring.

It was the closest he had felt to her and he hated it.

"Love," the word was whispered in his ear as Elissa twisted from her position next to him.

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and made a face as he squinted against the very early light of dawn. Elissa had her hand poised over his chest about to shake him from the sleep she thought he was in.

"It's morning," she added, seeing his eyes open.

The revelation was met with a muffled groan. "Barely."

She did smile at that. "Close enough. Tell me, love."

"Tell you what?"

"Whatever problem you need to solve."

It was the closest he had felt to her and he hated that it was being twisted and corrupted by the dark repercussions Eamon had created in his mind. Even while he had reached out to her with heart and soul, he had heard the poisonous whispers from deep in the back of his mind remind him that unless he could find a way to allay Eamon's fears then he would have to find a way to wrench himself apart from her.

"No."

The briefest flare of anger streaked across her face at his resolute refusal. It was reminiscent of the temper he had once or twice been on the wrong side of but it vanished almost before he had time to register it. He was sure that Elissa herself had not been aware of it.

"Please don't bear this alone," she murmured.

Alistair brushed his nose against hers and caught her in a quick kiss. He did not doubt that she would not miss the deliberate avoidance but he hoped she would overlook it.

"Well," she glanced towards the window then back at him with a grudging smile. "I suppose it is a bit early."

"It is. It's very early. It's extremely early. It's so early that it's late," he nodded solemnly.

"Not quite," the grudging smile bloomed into a genuine one as she gently teased him. "It's just as well you didn't become a Templar. There would be a daily exodus from the Circle before breakfast."

Alistair felt a grin surface on his face. "Mages, they're wily."

The smile on her face faded as the mention of the Circle and its mages brought an immediate association of Wynne to both of them.

Elissa sat up, drawing the sheets closer around her as she stared down at Alistair. "The mages told me about the others. They said Morrigan is missing."

"She came and checked on you before she left."

The silence which followed the statement confirmed his suspicion that Elissa had known Morrigan had always intended to leave.

"I'm glad she was there for you," she murmured at last, sneaking a tentative look towards him. "I... wasn't sure."

"On some things, we see eye to eye."

Her gaze flickered to the ring on his hand and her fingers reached out and traced the arch of it. "She didn't mention that. Do you know what it is?"

"I guessed it was enchanted."

Elissa gave a little nod but didn't expand further. "Make sure to keep it safe, love." In the brief pause before he could respond, she squeezed his hand and seized on the chance to divert the topic away from the Witch and the child she carried. "Tell me about Leliana."

"I haven't spoken to her. She was sleeping when I checked on her yesterday."

"All they would say is that it will take her a long time to recover," the catch in her voice betrayed how close she was to tears. "They wouldn't let me see her." She raised her head towards the door, a pained expression contorting her features and causing a few stray tears to trickle down her cheek. "Not that I tried."

Alistair sat up and caught her face in his hands. He gently kissed the tears away, tasting the salt from her skin as he did so. "Then maybe it's time we visited her."

"I can't..."

"Elissa."

The sheer terror that flashed across her face at the thought of being forced to confront whatever inescapable horror she believed existed outside the door felt like a knife in his heart. To anyone else it would seem to be ridiculous but the knowledge of his complicity in at least one potential horror gnawed at him and ripped the cut even wider. But if he failed to find a way through this then he had to know that she would have someone. And of the two others he trusted implicitly to watch over her, only one remained within his reach.

"Together, love. Come on," he coaxed her.

"She... she'll be asleep..."

"If I'm up then everyone's up," he forced himself to inject some humour into an increasingly tense atmosphere.

Elissa was too distracted to respond although she permitted him to take her hand. With reassuring murmurs that even he was too anxious to pay much attention to, he guided her to the door. Opening it, the two guards turned in surprise but were quick to salute. At their mark of respect, he felt her tug against him as she tried to overcome the urge to run back to the safety of the bed. Alistair tightened his grip and moved out into the hall as Elissa practically tripped across the threshold of the doorway. He caught the bemused looks of the guards as they bore witness to the strange battle of wills that was being fought out in front of them.

In the seemingly endless stretch of hallway, the frailty of the Hero of Ferelden was marked. Shaking and pale wit blood on her lip where she had bitten down too hard, there was a wild look in her eye that caused a surge of fear to course through him. Her nails dug into his hand as she searched constantly for the beginnings of the nightmare which she believed would consume her. It seemed an age that they stood, watched by the guards, while she adjusted to the stillness that was the reality. Gradually her grip loosened and her shoulders lowered as she began to breathe more readily. Alistair took the break in the internal storm to persuade her further down the corridor towards Leliana's room. He decided against knocking and instead pushed open the door.

Inside the room, Liahn rose to her feet with a whispered objection on the tip of her tongue at the invasion of her patient's space but stopped as she recognised Alistair. Her gaze moved past his face, down his arms and to the owner of the hand that was enclosed in his. Seeing Elissa, the mage moved to intercept them both.

"This could have waited until both were stronger," Liahn snapped at Alistair although the need to speak in hushed tones to prevent waking Leliana diluted much of the rebuke.

"How is she?" Elissa was fixated on the sight of the sleeping Bard lying in the bed, her own distress forgotten through the security of being surrounded by closed walls again.

"There is internal damage to her hands and feet that I can't repair," Liahn glanced between Elissa and Alistair. "Her face will be badly scarred as well."

Alistair winced as Elissa's nails dug into the small cuts they had made only a few minutes earlier but save for the small movement, she remained impassive.

"She has been asking for you," Liahn continued.

"Has she?" Elissa tore her gaze away from Leliana only long enough to assess whether the mage was telling the truth.

"If you wish, you may stay but you must allow her to sleep."

Elissa made no response and he sensed her conflict between wishing to remain with him and wanting to be at the side of her friend.

"Go on, love," he gave an encouraging murmur and she glanced at him. "I'll come by later and check on you both."

Still distracted, Elissa gave an obedient nod and released his hand. As she moved towards the chair beside the bed, he turned to Liahn who held up a hand in anticipation of what he was going to say.

"I will watch over them both," she promised.

"Thank you."

With a lingering glance towards Elissa, he stepped out the door. Signalling that the guards take their position outside Leliana's door, Alistair began to make his way towards the rooms Eamon had given him. Seeing the effect that simply leaving her room had had on Elissa, there was a renewed desperation to keep her at his side. He had to find a way through this that did not rest on a hope and prayer. How, he still had no idea. But he had to. It was as simple as that.

But first, the Grey Wardens.