A/N: I think I assured people there would be a bit of fluff incoming, and here it is. My way of trying to make up for being pretty hard on the characters the past couple of chapters. Don't expect it to last, of course. ;)

Non-account reviewers-

Witchy Bee: I understand not using an account any more, I have one that I've abandoned. ;)

Lea: Lol! I did the same, to be honest. I got so mad when he dumped me that I was like, "Screw doing the right thing, my character has done too much for this ugly little continent NOT to get the guy!" And yes, some fanfic can be totally awesome. A lot of the stuff on the Dragon Age boards here at is really, really good -- the quality seems to be better than for a lot of the more popular fandoms. Definitely worth digging around!

Shadowlore: If you do, let me know! =)

Akana

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"
- The Joker; Batman

They were in the courtyard, now. The moon hung pale and full above them; it would still be a few more hours till daybreak. She'd thought that she'd still be stuck in that masquerade by this time. Funny how things worked out, wasn't it?

She'd told Alistair that she needed some fresh air, and he'd brought her here. It was the perfect gesture: like being outside, without having to deal with anyone coming up to them. They walked, hand in hand, amongst the small orchid. Akana was calmer now than she had been, but it wasn't because of any tranquility of the soul -- she had simply cried until she couldn't any more.

Wynne was gone. The only person who'd ever come close to being a mother to her, and Akana had told Wynne her deepest, darkest secret. The thing that ate her alive when she gave it any thought. The truth that was worse than any lie. Wasn't love and kinship, or even friendship, supposed to withstand that sort of thing? If it didn't, what good was it, anyway? Why spend so much time caring for her companions, if they'd turn away so easily?

Was she that much of a monster?

Alistair put her hand around his waist so that he could wrap his arm across her shoulders. He was warm, and they were still in their formal attire, as abused as it was. Akana leaned against him, not caring if it seemed weak or childish. He hadn't turned away. If anyone else was right here in the dark with her, it was Alistair. Just like it'd been from the beginning.

Just like it would be in the end, when they knocked on the doors of the Dead Trenches.

Another curl of sorrow bulged in her throat, and Akana forced it back down.

"I don't blame you for recruiting her, you know that, right?" Alistair finally said, and they stopped walking. The air was milder than it'd been in months; Spring was on its way. The flowers hadn't yet bloomed, but there were tiny buds growing on the skeletal branches of the fruit trees around them. "I'm not exactly saying I'm eager to be friends with her, but what makes a Grey Warden isn't the same stuff that makes a good mage."

Akana let her eyes drift up to him, granting him the barest touch of a smile. She didn't feel it, but it was a thing her mouth did whenever she was teasing him, whether out of playful joy or just habit. "Or a good Templar."

"Mm," Alistair smiled, quickly, and then nodded. "Or a good Templar. Besides, if you hadn't done it, who knows how many people would have died? The only people even wearing armor were Greagoir and the guards. All those other people would have been caught in the crossfire. It would have been horrible."

She stared ahead. Yes, it would have been bad. But she'd still have Wynne, probably. And that wouldn't be horrible at all.

"Not that that's a good enough reason to recruit somebody. Syl helped you when she didn't have to. She used Blood Magic to stop that assassin, when she could have let him get away and kept her cover. She didn't have to help heal you, either, but she did. And she listened to you when you told her not to hurt anyone."

Alistair, defending a Blood Mage? Whose benefit was this for? Akana shrugged. Get to the point, the gesture said.

"All I'm saying is, those are good qualities for a Warden. There have been worse options."

Like Loghain, she thought to herself, knowing that was who Alistair had in mind. The wind, still wintry even as the seasons began to change, swept through them. The long slits at the sides of her dress welcomed its ice-cold grasp, and she shivered. Alistair patted himself, realized he wasn't wearing a jacket, and then began to unbutton his shirt. He'd gotten at least two undone before Akana realized what he was doing.

"Stop," she ordered, scowling.

"You're cold," he retorted, and kept going, looking down at his hands. She took his moving fingers in her palms, holding them, and he looked back to her. Their eyes met, and held, and the ache she saw there was a mirror of everything she felt. "I'm sorry, Akana. I'm so sorry."

It wasn't certain who pulled the other to whom, only that they drew together. He held her so close that it was practically crushing her, and gods, she only wanted it to be tighter still. Alistair rested his chin on her hair. "Do you regret it?" Akana asked, words barely escaping from his vice-like embrace. She could have been talking about anything, but he knew immediately what she was referring to.

"No," he replied firmly, without hesitation. "I regret that it was our only choice, but I would do it all over again if I had to. I don't care what she said to you, Akana. I love you. My moral well-being is my own to mind. This world is a better place with you in it. My world is a better place with you in it." If he sounded at all unsure, she didn't allow herself to hear it. Couldn't.

"That's good to know," Akana murmured, closing her eyes. Peace didn't come to her, but she imagined, held against Alistair in the dark of the courtyard, that she felt something like it.

"Do you regret it?" He asked tentatively. He brought a hand up to rub the back of her neck.

"No. Though sometimes I think I should. I... I have something to ask you. But I can't do it tonight. I can't handle it tonight." Slowly Alistair loosened his grip, holding her out at arm's length so he could catch her eyes.

"What is it?" Alistair asked, concerned. Akana arched an eyebrow, deadpan, and then he laughed genuinely. "Oh, that would be telling me tonight, wouldn't it?"

And Akana smiled, more truly now, because the sound of him laughing reached inside of her and wouldn't take 'No I'm sad go away' for an answer. It put its warm and bubbly fingers into her guts and wriggled all grinning-silly, and yes, Akana wanted badly to leave the sadness behind. Locking her wrists behind his neck, Akana leaned up on her toes to kiss him, and he eagerly moved to meet her.

"Will I always get kisses for saying stupid things?" He asked, and gods, a girl could lose herself in all that love, couldn't she?

You already have, a part of her insisted, dark and brooding and gruesome.

"Only when you're not expecting it," Akana replied, voice scratchy and sore from crying.

"Fair enough." His hand at the back of her neck moved up an inch or two, fingers twirling absently in her hair. Blood had dried into it, and his loving caresses made it pinch something awful, but Akana didn't say a word about that.

After a moment, Akana began to laugh. Not a bitter laugh, or a really happy one, but rather tired and a twinge amused. "What's so funny?" Alistair asked her, cocking his head to the side and smiling gently.

"The one part of my costume I liked, I lost. I most have dropped it when I got shanked at the Queen's Coronation Ball." She snorted, even though she saw a glimpse of pain flicker across Alistair's eyes. Too soon, Akana remarked to herself, but really, when had it ever been too soon for her to joke about her own death? She'd done it plenty of times before."And after all that time letting Leliana dress me up like an over-sized doll, the only dance I had was with an murdering revolutionary Apostate. You know, I thought things would be better, after we saved the world. My life still sucks."

Alistair did laugh then, brunt, and pulled away from her further. His hands ran down her arms until they found hers. "You're right, m'Lady. I'm sure the excitement has been far too much for you."

"Hey now..."

"Wouldn't you rather just settle in, somewhere? Never have to lift a weapon again? A finger? We could buy a household of servants, you know. Not elves, of course, but real servants!"

"You're teasing-"

"And all these people! These ungrateful, horrid people! I'm sure your problems with the nobility -- and everyone else for that matter -- can disappear. All you have to do," he grinned, and kneeled down in front of her, clasping her hands. "Is bow before the beautiful Queen Anora and pledge your undying allegiance. Maybe kiss her ring too, for good measure. Royalty loves that."

Akana scowled at him. "Beautiful, huh?"

"Did I say beautiful? I meant pale. And, um, human." Akana have him a hard push, and already off-balance due to the kneeling, Alistair tumbled onto his side. When he tried to get up again, she pushed him right back down. "Oof! Hey, once was enough! I learned my lesson!"

"I could have made you King, you know. Then everyone would have to love me."

Alistair snorted. "Should-a would-a could-a?" And he tried to get up again. By this time, though, he'd caught on. When she went to give him another shove, he lunged forward, grabbing her around her hips and pulling her down with him. Down on top of him.

They had rough-housed around plenty of times. "You two are like mongel Mabari puppies! Take your tumbling and slobbering elsewhere!" Morrigan had shouted at them once, driving them off with a few well-placed, if low-powered zaps of electricity. Now, though, Akana wasn't wearing her armor or her usual leather breeches, and Alistair's hands slid up her thighs until he was grabbing the widest part of her hips, all bare skin save for a rather lacy pair of undergarments.

Alistair seemed completely surprised at this chain of events, and Akana watched him blush. The red-pink heat moved down even to his chest, where his shirt was still half unbuttoned. Like he'd been caught at something devious, Alistair froze. Then he gave her a cheeky grin. "You know, I do like your armor, m'lady Warden, but you should wear dresses far more often."

Akana brought a loose fist back, and Alistair cringed appropriately, giggling like a boy while he covered his face with his arms. His torso and hips bucked under her and she instinctively tightened her legs around him, not to be unseated. Alistair, a certain distinct part of Alistair, took notice.

As if realizing himself, he shifted again, trying to manage some sort of polite distance, which was poor joke with her straddling him. Akana crossed her arms and looked down at him, an eyebrow raised. With perfect balance she kept herself upright, barely swaying as he moved around. "You're just making it worse for yourself," she finally told him matter-of-factly. And he was. The squirming wasn't exactly getting him anywhere, and the friction...

"Well it's much less distracting when you're wearing armor!" He retorted, feigning hurt pride.

"So I shouldn't wear dresses?"

Alistair cursed, and then launched himself upright. She felt his abdomen tighten against her, and then she was in his lap, pressed close against him. The thin layer of frost that has settled over the grass melted against her legs, chilly and wonderful at once. "How about," Alistair said, eyeing her lips hungrily, "you wear whatever you want, and I just shut up?"

"You know I can't resist a plan that ends with you shutting up," Akana replied, and while he formed his rebuttal her lips collided against his. Both of them still had their eyes open, and he narrowed his at her. I'll get you next time, that glare insisted, and Akana smiled against his mouth and deepened the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, warmer than they were before, Alistair stood. How he managed it, she wasn't really sure, but he scooped her up and pushed himself to his feet. He let her down after he stood, and she dropped the couple inches to the grass. They'd made a dewy dent several feet wide.

"We should go inside," Alistair advised, and put a hand on either one of her bare arms for warmth. She could feel the callouses there, as familiar as the ones on her own palms, where heavy gauntlets had toughened the skin. One hand was rougher than the other: his right hand, his sword hand. The other, the hand for his shield arm, was significantly softer. It was like being touched by two people at once. "Don't want you to catch a cold out here."

Akana rolled her eyes. "The nights at camp got far worse than this. At least until we stopped bothering even setting up your tent, and shared mine."

"Which would make it even more of a shame for you to get sick now, when we've got a nice warm room with a big soft bed all to ourselves." He began to lead them back towards the castle, but Akana remained where she stood, and he turned back to her. "Is something wrong?"

Akana stared up at the sky. She hadn't looked at the stars in what felt like weeks, even if it'd only been a few days. The last time she'd really had the time to stop and gaze upon them was the night before the last battle.

But it wasn't the last battle, she thought to herself, not sure how she felt about that. Maybe there never will be a last battle for me. Maybe that should have upset her, but in a way it was comforting. Like Soris had said: she wasn't made to go quietly into the night. Battle, at least, she understood. It helped keep all the crushing weight of guilt and introspection at bay.

"Akana?" Alistair stepped back to her, bringing her out of her trance. Though her heart was sore and she knew everything would only become more difficult from here, Akana smiled at him. Steal the moments of happiness where you can, Zevran had told her once. Of course, he'd probably been trying to weasel his way into her bed (out of the principle of it more than anything else, she was sure). All the same, it was good advice, wasn't it? Akana wouldn't be able to turn her back on despair forever, but, well, she could try.

So, with a flourish, Akana placed one leg out straight in front of and bowed over it. She'd seen quite a few of the noblemen do it, and she replicated the gesture with graceful ease. The Reaver smiled -- always with that same tiny bit of danger in it -- and extended her hand to Alistair. "Dance with me?" Well, okay, so it was probably supposed to be more flowery than that, but that was what came out.

Alistair looked at her skeptically. "You're joking, right? This is to get me back for making fun of you earlier."

Akana stuck out her bottom lip in a pout, and went to straighten her posture. "Well, if you don't want to-"

He didn't hesitate now, but reached forward and grasped her hand in his. Without another word he pulled her to him, and Akana fumbled for where she was supposed to put her hands. It wasn't like this was something she was used to. The last time she'd had any practice dancing, if you didn't count the few moments with Syl, had been over six months ago.

She'd been alone with Shianni in her father's house, a week before her betrothed was supposed to arrive. They'd both been drunk and silly, and Shianni might have been celebrating her cousin's imminent marriage, but Akana had told her it was more mourning the death of freedom. Shianni had indulged her melodrama, and then when they could both barely stand after downing a what seemed like a barrelful of wine, she'd insisted that Akana learn a few standard dances for the reception. So Shianni had played the groom, and Akana the reluctant bride, and they'd danced until the room spun so badly that they ended up on the floor, snorting laughter.

A lifetime ago. Several lifetimes, if you counted how many times Akana had been physically dead and only barely returned to life.

Now she pressed one palm to Alistair's, her other hand on his shoulder. They stepped awkwardly at first, snickering at the ridiculousness of it all, but soon that fell away. Then they simply moved together, dressed in their expensive and bloodied clothes, dancing beneath the Maker's starry heavens.