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

The crowd had drawn back in silence as Kallian and Velanna were led from the building, then slowly started to disperse. Some followed them into the courtyard, some went further into the keep, but most stayed, speculating about Weisshaupt's reaction, greeting the newly returned Wardens, or debating points of the arguments they'd heard.

Over all, they seemed to agree with Varel's decision, which was a relief to Alistair. The last think he wanted was to cause problems for the seneschal who'd stood with him in a way that must have been difficult.

The Wardens who'd been frowning at him as he addressed the crowd approached, still frowning. They stopped in front of him, all large men, and one spoke, his face set in harsh lines. "Warden. We are grateful for your rescue of our brothers and sister, but you should know that Ferelden holds no monopoly on honor. We of the Free Marches know a thing or two about it."

Alistair felt his cheeks flush. Blast. In his eagerness to rally the crowd, he hadn't thought that they might not all be Fereldan, and had offended. "I…sorry. I know that's true, and it was good of you to come to our aid. I'll remember that in future."

The man let his stern expression slip and slapped Alistair on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger, letting out a laugh. "See that you do. And be glad that there aren't any Orlesian or Antivan Wardens here!"

The Free Marchers walked away, grinning, and Alistair let out a breath. Thank the Maker, they'd been more interested in tweaking him than genuinely offended. He would have been sorry to have done such a thing. And there could have been Orlesian Wardens here. Antivans were unlikely, but…. He really needed to think more before he got angry and just let things fly out of his mouth.

Seeing Varel approach, Alistair smiled. "Seneschal."

"Warden." Varel looked at Alistair intently. "You are still a Grey Warden, you know, and welcome in this keep, should you decide to return. It doesn't matter what you might have done, had you not been under sentence of death, or even exiled.

"In truth, Wardens leave more often than you probably think, although it's not spoken of. They tire of fighting darkspawn, or fall in love—any number of things, but they almost always return. They miss the bond they share with their brothers and sisters. They miss the feeling that they're doing something vital. They miss the action. Mostly they miss being among those who know what it is to live with the taint." He put a hand on Alistair's shoulder. "Would you like to return, Alistair?"

"I…don't know that I can, not in Ferelden, anyway. The queen brought me back to find out what Avernus and Kallian were doing, and now that I have…."

Varel drew back his hand. "I could send the queen a message that you are with the Wardens again, and not subject to her summons."

Alistair laughed. "I can just picture her face on reading that!" He shook his head, letting his gaze wander to the Wardens in the room, all strangers to him. It wouldn't be the same. "No, but thank you. If getting into a confrontation with the Chantry over Kallian is a bad idea, going head to head with Anora over me is just as chancy. I may have been gone for a long time, but I'm still too much of a Warden to let you risk that."

"Is that all that holds you back? If it's the lady who travels with you—not that I'm making any assumptions—she would be welcome, too. I recognize her and have heard tales of her battle skills. You must know that she would make a superb Grey Warden."

Alistair turned his head toward Varel sharply, frowning. "No!" He tossed a hand up. "I mean, yes, I know she would, I thought so myself when I first met her, but…no." He looked at Varel again. "If there was a Blight, that would be different. It would be necessary, and a duty, but not now."

"If she made the decision on her own, would you stand in her way?"

"Of course not, but I won't suggest it, either, and I ask that you don't."

"I will honor your wish, although I regret it." Varel raised a hand toward Alistair. "There's something else you should think about. You're the most senior Warden in Ferelden. Once Kallian is gone, you'll be the only Warden who was at Ostagar. It's quite possible that the First Warden will want you to become Warden-Commander."

"What! No…that's ridiculous. I've been gone for three years while other people did the heavy lifting. You have new Wardens with more knowledge of the current situation, and of Amaranthine."

"We do, but the situation is unusual. The Warden-Commander isn't just the leader of the Wardens anymore, he or she rules here, as you said. With all that Avernus did, and with Kallian turning a blind eye at the very least, the Wardens will lose much of the trust they gained, especially in light of the burning of the city, and the suppression of the food riots. Kallian was not gentle. The most viable senior candidate is a dwarf, but it will be some time before another non-human will be accepted."

"That's as ridiculous as the idea of making me Warden-Commander. They can't blame all the elves for Kallian, and they certainly can't blame the dwarves. It's completely unfair."

"There's unfair, and then there's realistic. That can't be news to you. It was surprising that they accepted an elven arlessa in the first place. It would never have happened if she hadn't been the hero of Ferelden, and it will be a long time before it happens again."

"Maybe that's true—unpleasant, but true…. There must be someone else."

Varel shrugged. "The most senior human Wardens are Anders, a mage and former apostate, and Nathaniel, a Howe whose family was removed from power in this arling very recently, and by the ruling queen.

"Anders can't rule as an arl, obviously, let alone command what amounts to a small but very powerful army. The Chantry would be up in arms.

"As for Nathaniel, old resentments and loyalties are still to close to the surface. We've already had one attempted coup by Howe loyalists, and those who openly supported Kallian would fear retaliation if a Howe were to appear to rule again, Warden or not. The politics are too murky. If the wardens are to rule here, it's best that we have a clear break from the Howes. To do otherwise invites confusion that could sew discontent.

"Neither Anders nor Nathaniel are feasible candidates. And you would still have seniority."

Anders joined them. "Did I hear my name?" His eyebrows rose. "Nothing uncomplimentary, I hope."

"Varel doesn't think you should become Warden-Commander."

"Andraste's flaming knickers! Neither do I!" He looked at Alistair. "They'll probably pick you, Templar King, then I'll have to call you 'Templar-Commander-King."

"Templar-King?" Varel looked at Alistair as though he wasn't sure of what to make of that.

Alistair grimaced. "Not my idea. Anders likes to be irritating, but I'm guessing you know that."

Varel smiled. "I do, indeed. In fact, he—"

There was a loud roar like a cross between an avalanche, and a qunari weapon Alistair had once seen demonstrated. It came from deeper in the keep. The ground shook beneath Alistair's feet. "Maker! What…?"

Varel yelled above the sound. "Explosives—a new dwarven weapon."

A weapon, but in the keep, not in the courtyard…. A diversion. This was Kallian's doing, and just her style. Alistair ran out of the hall, and down the first couple of corridors, then had to stop, lost in the maze of rooms and hallways.

Anders sped past him. "This way!"

When they finally got to the portcullis that opened onto the courtyard, it was down.

"I'll go raise it. Wait here." Anders ran back up the stairs, disappearing into the large room that was the first line of defense.

There were bodies around an open door across the courtyard, and Wardens fighting Wardens in front of those. He could hear fighting by the gate, Kallian's final obstacle to escape but his view was blocked, he could only see the towers above. "Hurry, Anders!"

Then he heard the sound of the dwarven weapon again, but this time he could see what it did. The guard towers over the gate…disintegrated. They were just gone in a cloud of smoke, fire, and debris. Things were flying through the air—pieces of the portcullis, chunks of stone…. People—or parts of them.

Maker's breath. These explosives were an awful thing. Or a very good thing. It probably depended on who had the explosives, but…. Alistair couldn't help but think that it might be better if they'd never been invented. "Anders!"

"Yelling won't help, Templar-King. I haven't been taking a little nap." Anders appeared beside him. "The crank for the portcullis has been sabotaged. I tried to fix it, but it's beyond me."

"Blast it!" Alistair stared into the courtyard. It was quiet now. Kallian was escaping and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. He leaned his head against the portcullis. "Piss and blood."

They ran back to the hall as fast as they'd left. By the time the portcullis was opened, Kallian would be long gone, but there might be survivors of the escape who could still be helped.

The beautiful room was becoming a makeshift infirmary, with wounded being placed in an alcove on one side.

Anders went straight to work, leaving Alistair to report to Varel.

There was a crowd around the seneschal, all wanting his attention as he dealt with matters in the order of importance, so Alistair spoke to Captain Garevel, who stood nearby giving orders to his soldiers.

"Kallian's gone, along with the Wardens who supported her. They used explosives to open the gate. The inner portcullis was sabotaged—from the inside, Garevel."

"Blast!"

"Yeah, that's a problem—and the gate will need to be repaired before we can get to the wounded in the courtyard."

Garevel grabbed the arm of a soldier to countermand his previous order. "Forget clearing the staircase. Take some men to the inner gate and get that portcullis open. Bring the wounded here."

The soldier saluted. "Yes, Ser."

"Staircase? What was damaged?" Alistair watched as two more wounded soldiers were carried in.

"The explosion was on the upper level. It brought down most of the roof in one wing, and part of the floor, which collapsed into a barracks below. Luckily, the soldiers had enough warning of the collapse that most were able to escape, and we had no difficulty in accessing the room to carry the few wounded out quickly.

"Debris is blocking the staircase up to the main blast area, however, so we haven't been able to get up there. It was in the guest quarters, but since—"

The guest quarters…Lis!

Alistair raced toward the door he'd seen Lis go through earlier, darting around Varel, and cutting in front of a soldier carrying a box of potions.

He saw the box start to fall and spun around in time to grab it.

Garevel yelled something, but Alistair was too busy trying to stay upright to pay attention. He was still off balance, and teetering on one leg when he heard Lis's voice.

She sounded irritated—and very alive. "We need more men at the staircase to move that beam…or have we decided not to bother?"

Righting himself, Alistair got his other foot on the ground, and shoved the box into the man's arms. He crossed the distance between them in about three steps, which shouldn't have been possible, and threw his arms around her, catching a glimpse of a startled expression before he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. "Maker! I thought you were caught in the explosion. I saw what that does to people when the gate blew up in the courtyard."

He loosened his arms so he could look at her. "You're all right?"

Lis touched his face. "I'm fine, Alistair. Didn't—"

"Oghren? Leliana?"

"They're fine, too, but—"

"Maker's breath, when Garevel said the explosion was in the guest quarters—"

Lis put a finger to his lips. "Alistair, didn't anyone tell you we were safe? They were supposed to." She brushed her hand across his cheek. "I didn't want you to worry."

"They tried." Garevel walked up behind them, followed by Anders. "I see now that I should have started with that, but I didn't expect him to react so quickly. I even tried shouting across the room, but that didn't work, either."

"He was too busy with that nimble display of running, acrobatics and juggling. And now this." Anders waved a hand toward Alistair and Lis. "Here I thought you were shy, Templar-King."

Oh…sod it. He'd been thinking about Lis, not the fact that he was in a room full of people. Alistair glanced around and saw no few eyes watching, accompanied by smiles. He started to step away from Lis, but she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"After a day like today, a little happiness is a good thing. Don't worry, Alistair. First smart comment and I feed them to the darkspawn. "

Alistair leaned close to her ear and whispered, "This is why I love you ." He kissed her cheek. "But now I have to go be wardeny."

Garevel smiled. "What I was trying to say, is that since no one was in the guest quarters when the explosion occurred, the few men that remained in the barracks are all the wounded we expect to find, other than any we find in the courtyard. I'm sure those who placed the explosives hoped for a different outcome. If the wing had collapsed, as it might have before the improvements, this would have been much worse,"

"Well, that's good news, but I doubt it was a miscalculation. Kallian knew about the improvements, right? And they could have planted the explosives under this hall. I think she meant it as a diversion, not an attack, but if there was a possibility of killing me, or my friends, that would have pleased her, so…guest quarters." Alistair moved away from Lis. "Any idea how many people Kallian took with her?"

"Not yet, but we're doing a head count now. Once we've reached the upper level and checked for unexpected casualties, we'll have everyone identified.

"Except our unknown saboteur—assuming there's only one." Anders lifted an eyebrow. "Which we really shouldn't."

"The seneschal will figure it out. He's very good at that sort of thing. We can rule out everyone who was in the hall at the time, and then start figuring out who was seen where. Once we've narrowed the field, Varel will question them. He doesn't have to lay a finger on them to make them talk. I don't know how he does it."

Alistair nodded. "I just hope it doesn't take too long. You can't even lock the gate to make sure no one leaves."

His lip curling, Garevel said, "I'd rather have them leave, than here and unidentified, to tell you the truth."

Lis looked from Alistair to Garevel. "That's all well and good, but I still need men to move that roof beam out of the staircase. It's keeping us from moving further up."

Alistair hiked a thumb through the archway and glanced at Garevel. "Is there something else I should be doing, or can I go help?"

"Go. I'll let you know if we find any survivors in the courtyard, and if any of them can talk."

Garevel beckoned two of the nearby soldiers. "Leave what you're doing and go with these two. Their orders are my orders."

He crooked a finger toward Anders. "Come. Tell me about the wounded. Do you need more supplies?"

As Anders and Garevel left them, Alistair smiled at Lis. "Lead on, my dear. Your desire is my command."

She grinned. "Maybe later. Right now we have to go move rocks."

Alistair leaned his head back on the stone ledge that surrounded the bath in his room. He was stiff and exhausted. Tomorrow, he fully expected that sore would be added to the list.

Maker, he spent every day walking in full armor, and swinging a sword and shield around. How could moving beams, rock and plaster be so different?

But then, maybe it wasn't clearing the debris. Maybe it was facing off against Kallian. His shoulders had been knotted so tightly, he'd thought he might break something.

Or maybe it was that the beam they'd moved had been made to hold up a castle.

He let himself slip forward until his head was under water, then sat up and grabbed the bar of soap from the ledge, rubbing it on his hair.

It had taken a couple of hours to clear a path to the upper floor. They were just starting to move into the upper hall when Garevel had appeared with group of soldiers to replace them, and ordered them to go eat and sleep.

The expression on Lis's face had been priceless. Alistair was pretty sure that she could count the number of times she'd been actually ordered to do something on one hand. And in that brusque 'go now' way of Garevel's—that number was probably zero.

Varel had joined them as they ate and told them that since the guest rooms had been destroyed, they'd be given the rooms of Wardens who were currently away from the Vigil.

Alistair hadn't been entirely comfortable with that, since the Wardens weren't there to give their permission. He hadn't had many rooms of his own in his life, and a private room seemed…sacrosanct, somehow. Not like a room at an inn, or a bed in a barracks. He'd suggested that they just lay out their bedrolls in a common room somewhere.

Oghren had scowled at him, and Leliana had kicked him in the shin under the table—not all that effective on an armored man, but it had gotten her point across. Anders, who had a room of his own, and whom Alistair had thought might understand, looked baffled.

Lis just shook her head.

Varel got very serious then, and said that there was no Warden in the keep who wouldn't do far more for them than give up a bed for them, that they'd saved five Wardens, and brought to light a schism in their ranks so great that Wardens had been willing to kill Wardens, and that he'd cut a sickness from their heart.

In any case, as Alistair submerged himself in the hot water to rinse his hair, he was very glad that he'd accepted this generosity. He planed on writing a grateful note to the owner of the room—and buying him a new bar of soap, because there wasn't going to be much of this one left.

He had just climbed out of the bath and was drying himself when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Just a minute." He pulled on his trousers and opened the door. "Lis! Come in." Alistair leaned out into the hall and looked in both directions. He couldn't see anyone.

Closing the door, he turned to her. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be here?"

Lis's eyebrows rose. "Why not?"

"Well…someone might notice. They aren't nobility, but there might still be gossip."

"Are you ashamed of me, Alistair?"

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, taking the sting from the question, but he answered as though she was serious, nonetheless. "Maker's breath, no man could be, not a sane one with blood in his veins, and a brain between his ears."

He put his arms around her, pulled her to him, and slid his hands up her back. She was wearing a loose shirt, and trousers not unlike the ones he wore—it was wonderful to hold her without armor between them. "I'm concerned for you. Varel knows who you are, and if he recognized you, others might, too. This isn't camp and people talk. You're a Cousland, and I'm a—"

"Very foolish man. But I love you anyway." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, leaning against him and moving in a way that was…distracting. "We haven't been hiding who I am up to now, and there's no reason to start because we share a bed." She smiled at him, and then said, "This does explain why you were willing to turn down a chance for us to spend the night in a real bed, which made me want to shake you." The corners of her eyes crinkled as a grin spread across her face.

Alistair touched her cheek, and then pulled her over to the bed, sitting down and drawing her into his lap. "You shake me to the core any time I'm with you." He brushed his lips across her ear and kissed her temple. "In a very good way."

Lis shivered and let out a little breath. "A very good way, indeed." She turned so that she was facing him, her legs going around his waist and onto the bed behind him, raising a hand to his chest. "But before we do any more of that, tell me what Garevel wanted to see you about after dinner. Did he find out anything about Kallian's escape?

"Now? Really?" Giving an exaggerated sigh, Alistair pulled her closer and smiled. "You have the willpower of a knight commander. Good thing I taught you to be a templar."

He put his arms around her waist. "Well, they found three survivors in the courtyard, all badly wounded, but they'll live. Garevel had them fetch me when they were well enough to talk. Only one of the three heard anything—a soldier who fell close to the gate, and pretended to be dead. It can't have taken much pretending. Anders said he almost didn't make it.

"Anyway, he heard one of the Wardens with Kallian ask where she wanted them to go, and she told them to head for the Deep Roads entrance, that they would travel below ground to shake off pursuit.

"Then Velanna demanded that Kallian keep her promise to help her find her sister. Kallian tried to put her off.

"The soldier said that he thinks he was passing out then, because he missed something. Next thing he knew, Velanna was screaming at Kallian and saying that if she left, Kallian would have no mage.

"Kallian seemed to change her mind about whatever it was that made Velanna so angry, because Velanna calmed down and they all headed for the Deep Roads.

"After that, he passed out in earnest, not waking again until he was in the hall and had been healed by Anders."

Lis frowned. "Can the Deep Roads really be used so easily now? That wasn't the experience we had, and at the same entrance they planned to use."

Alistair shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe that was just our bad luck. Maybe we walked right into a raiding party. I've heard that there are fewer darkspawn near the surface now than any time in memory, but who knows if that will last, or what they intend. And fewer isn't none."

"So…are we going after her?"

Reaching up, Alistair ran his fingers through Lis's hair, newly washed, gleaming, and hanging down her back. He liked that—seeing it in a way no one else got to see. "No. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life chasing Kallian through the Deep Roads. If she's seen on the surface, then…maybe, but I think she's Weisshaupt's problem now. I'm done with it.

"It's time to settle some things. I have to go to Denerim."

Lis took his face in her hands. "We don't have to go back, Alistair. We can catch a ship in the harbor. We can go anywhere."

"You'd go with me? That means a lot. You have no idea how much." Taking her hands from his face, he kissed the palm of each. "I can't ask you to keep living like this, day to day, with no future."

"But I don't—"

"No, Lis." Alistair shook his head. "I want a chance at having a real home, without assassins coming out of the woodwork or having to leave town every time someone recognizes me, or I let something slip. This is the only way."

Dropping his gaze to her hands, he tightened his fingers around them and took a deep breath. "I'd like that home to be with you. If things work out with Anora. If you think you might like that, too."

He raised his eyes again, hoping he hadn't gone too far. His heart was pounding. "Do you? Think you might like that?"

Alistair tried to read her expression, but it didn't make him feel any more confident. She looked kind of sad. That was not the reaction he'd been hoping for. He probably shouldn't have been so…spontaneous. He'd been saying things without really thinking them through all day, blast it. He should have waited, he should have—

"Oh, Alistair…. I'd like that more than anything, but it's not worth it. I'd rather run forever than risk harm coming to you for a minute." Her hands rose to grip his shoulders. "Please, let's just go."

He wanted to agree. He wanted to leave tonight, knowing that he could be with Lis as long as she'd have him, but it wasn't enough, not for her. That wasn't the kind of life she deserved. He could be selfish and cowardly and take her away from her home, her family and her name, but it wouldn't be right—and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving without her. "I'm sorry, Lis. I can't do that. I can't ask you to do that. I won't."

Lis climbed off his lap and stood, staring at him.

"Lis?"

"Andraste's ass, Alistair, I hate it when the reasons I love you are the same things that drive me crazy. And not in a good way."

"Uh…are we fighting now?"

"Yes. No!" She threw her hands up in the air and walked away from him. "I don't know!"

Alistair decided that he'd better not say anything. Or move. Or breathe.

Maker's blood, now he was really being a coward. He didn't want her to be upset. He had to say something. "Uh…. I never asked…I was too relieved…. Why did you all come downstairs before the explosion?" Oh, good thinking. Random questions, that will fix things.

Lis turned to face him, her hands on her hips. "We wanted to be close by, in case it came down to a fight."

"You…came downstairs so the three of you could take on every Grey Warden in Ferelden and the entire Silver Order—for me?"

She crossed her arms and frowned. "Well, we thought Anders might help."

Alistair started laughing. He couldn't help it. Maker's breath, now Lis was really going to be angry, but that was the funniest, stupidest, most ridiculous, most wonderful thing he'd ever heard, and if he didn't laugh, he might cry. He laughed until he was gasping for breath.

Suddenly he was knocked backwards onto the bed, and Lis was straddling him, her arms on either side of his head, looking down at him. "Did no one ever tell you not to laugh at an angry woman?"

Still laughing, he held up his hands. "I know, I know! Please don't hit me. Even boys raised in the Chantry learn that young."

He took a deep breath, smiling up at her. "No one's ever tried to do anything like that for me before. Never. It was the stupidest idea I've ever heard, but that takes nothing away from the intent."

She smiled back at him, a rueful, sideways smile. "I'm willing to be stupid for you, Alistair."

Reaching up, he ran a finger over her lips, glad to see that smile. "And I for you. That's why I have to go to Denerim, you see that, right?"

"I see that you think you do, and that I can't change your mind. I don't have to like it, though, and I really don't like you thinking that you have to do it for me."

"For both of us, Lis. I don't want to leave if there's a way to stay. Being back in Ferelden is…. I just feel right here. I'm doing this for me, too."

Alistair pulled her down beside him, brushing uncharacteristically disheveled hair from her eyes. "Whatever happens, it's my doing, and I'm the one responsible."

Moving closer, he leaned in to kiss her, his fingers in her tangled hair, pressing his body against hers, and then said, "I've never done this in a real bed. Or indoors, actually. Tents don't count."

Lis's mouth opened as if to speak, her eyes intent and her expression serious, but instead, her lips tightened for a moment before she said, "Then I'm glad it's with me." She put a hand to his jaw, then trailed her fingers down his chest. "We have all night to make up for lost time and if we break the bed, I'll buy the Warden a new one."

"It seems fairly sturdy. I think your purse is safe." Alistair smiled and slid his hands under her shirt. "But let's try anyway."