Author's notes: I'm so sorry. I had every intention of updating during the holidays. It's that damned real life, wouldn't leave me alone! I had a lot of fun though, if it's any consolation...:)

Anyway, here's a slightly longer chapter to make it up to you. Happy New Year everyone!

Kaylee strongly pushed the double doors to the throne room open, causing the few nobles gathered there to gasp and the herald to jump.

"The Queen of Ferelden! Ar…"

"Shut up!" she barked at him. She could see Alistair on his feet at the other end of the room, already halfway down the steps to his throne. She was exhausted and sore, and her body actually ached with the need to hold him.

"Out! Everybody out this instant!" Alistair yelled. The nobles almost tripped over themselves in their hurry to obey, startled and frightened by his unusually harsh, commanding tone. Kaylee removed her helm and threw it aside on the floor, her gauntlets quickly followed, and she was running across the empty throne room. Alistair jumped down the rest of the steps, ran towards her. They crashed into each others and their lips met, hungrily, ferociously, as they clung to each other with desperate strength. They both whimpered into the kiss, a strangled, pained sound, then started to talk at the same time in between passionate kisses, whispering half-formed sentences, barely parting their lips.

"… won't leave you anymore…"

"… gone too long…"

"… so afraid…"

"… what little time…"

"… need you now…"

" … always be there…"

Kaylee wrapped her arms around his neck and finally let herself relax. The kiss became less heated, more tender, and she revelled in the feel of his arms around her, his lips on hers. Her anguish and desperation subsided slowly under his loving touch.

Her relief was short-lived.

"Tell me you found something," Alistair murmured, his mouth still on hers. She pulled back a little to look him in the eyes, shaking her head.

"What about you? Any news?"

"Just bad ones, love. Irving and Kardol came by this morning. They didn't have anything."

"So it's over," she whispered. Her eyes closed and she let her head fall on Alistair's shoulder. He wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"Don't talk like that. This isn't like you," he scolded. "You're just tired. Come get some rest. I'll have a bath prepared for you when you wake up, and we'll talk about other options. We still have almost a year."

He gently guided her to their room, where he helped her out of her armor before putting her to bed. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost instantly, holding his hand.

Kaylee awoke with a start, for a second not recognizing her surroundings. It took only a moment before it all came rushing back to her.

She was back in Denerim, in the castle, in her room. Outside, it was dark, and it looked like it was late at night.

And it was all over.

Fear and anguish filled her mind again, absolute and overwhelming. There was no other plan, no good idea, nobody else to turn to. Her breathing got shallow and jerky, and she looked around in panic. She was alone.

She only realized what had woken her when someone knocked on the door again.

"Alistair!" she yelled desperately.

The door opened on a servant who shot her a confused look before heading for the tub. She was carrying a steaming bucket of water. She was followed by several others, and they all emptied their buckets in the tub before retiring with a curtsey. The tub was soon filled with hot water.

Alistair came in when all the servants left, carrying a tray with food and tea. She sighed in relief, the only sight of him soothing her raw nerves. He put the tray down on the table, walked back to the door and locked it, then he came to her, arms spread wide, and she snuggled against his chest, breathing deeply.

"I gave strict orders not to be disturbed for the rest of the night," he said, gently pulling her on her feet and helping her out of her clothes. "Come."

He led her to the tub and helped her in, then took off his own clothes and joined her. She spun to lean against him, her back pressed on his chest, and he let his hands trail along her arms, in a light caress. She let her head fall back on his shoulder, closing her eyes and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief.

"So how were the ruins?"

"Empty. Well, no, not really. We had some random Darkspawn encounters. Just… empty of anything useful." Alistair reached for the soap, lathered his hands and gently rubbed her skin. She sighed in satisfaction.

"So what now? What do we do?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "We wait and hope, I guess. I have no other ideas." She leaned back to soak her hair in water, lathered them and rinsed thoroughly. When she got her head back out of the water Alistair was staring at her, almost angrily. "What does that mean, exactly? Are we just giving up?"

"It means I'm scared, Alistair. The reality is overwhelming. The possibility of my death becomes more and more a certainty with each passing day. I really thought we would find something, you know." Her voice faltered and she swallowed slowly, trying to keep her tone steady. "I never even considered that I really was going to die. Because, you know, that's what we do best. Not die. There has always been a way."

She stood up and got out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel and using another one to dry her hair. Alistair followed, wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn around and look at him.

"What are you saying, love?"

She took a deep breath before raising her gaze to meet his eyes.

"I am no hero, Alistair. You know me enough now to know that this is true. Through all these years we were together, you learned to see me for what I am. The naïve and lovesick scales have fallen from your eyes long ago."

She shifted closer to him, took his hands in hers. "I had to do very hard things in my life. Some impossible ones, too. Some hard choices, some deadly battles. Some difficult things, yes. But not a lot of heroic ones. When offered to take the high road, I did not choose to do so often. I was raised with good values, but they were soon crushed under the heavy weight of my impossible reality."

She felt his hands pressed hers slightly, comforting. She sighed softly. "There was only one way for me to keep going. I found a way to push through, to make myself do what must be done. I made it personal. I surrounded myself with allies I forced myself into trusting. I talked to them, offered them gifts, listened to their tales, because I needed to make myself care. Once I cared enough, it made some difficult choices far easier. I saved Redcliffe and refused the blood ritual to kill the demon because you asked me to. I spared the mages for Wynne's sake. I killed Flemeth for Morrigan. I took the assassin's contracts because I thought it would help Zevran. I refused that dragon cultist's offer of power because I knew how it would feel to Leliana to defile the ashes, but I drank Avernus's potion because I thought it would make me more able to defend you all. I took time to reunite Sten with his sword and Oghren with his Felsi during a sodding Blight. I killed Howe for what he did to my family, and Loghain for what he did to the Grey Wardens. And I took Morrigan's offer because I just could not bear to lose you." She shook her head slowly. "Some were good decisions, some… not so good. But they were all ultimately selfish. For me, and for the people that are mine. So maybe it isn't love that's selfish. Maybe it's just me."

She raised her gaze to look at him: "Now I made one truly heroic decision, to sacrifice myself so that countless may live. But they are countless faceless survivors. I try to make myself care as much but… then I look at you, realize that I have to leave you to save them and I find myself… unable to breathe…" Tears welled up in her eyes and she valiantly blinked them away. "I don't want to do this anymore…" she whispered, her voice breaking. "I don't want to die…"

Alistair found himself speechless. The comforting, soothing words he knew he should be saying just wouldn't come out. He reached out, grabbed her shoulders and slid his hands up and down her upper arms in an awkward caress. Kaylee lowered her head, shaking it slightly.

"Well, that is all very touching," a low, heavily accented male voice drawled from the balcony. "But if you two don't keep talking, how am I to learn anything new?"

An arrow flew across the room, penetrating deep into the wood of the door, just above the handle. Another one sank in the ground just in front of Alistair, effectively stopping his move to rush to his weapons by the bed.

The shadowy form took a step forward, still keeping to the shadows of the balcony. He was a tall man, clad in leather armor with a hood low on his brow hiding half his face, bow in hand and at the ready.

"Now," he said, "let us talk more freely. I just jammed the lock on the door, and I have you at my mercy. Should you try to run, I will have you both killed before you could open the door. Should you call for help, I will have you both killed before anyone can get in. Should you run for your weapons… well, I think you get my meaning. But all I really want to do is talk. You've intrigued me just now. There are some things that need straightening out. Sit." He motioned to the table with the tip of his notched arrow.

Alistair and Kaylee glanced at each other, then started walking to the table, turning their backs to the man. They whispered fast, not looking at each other:

"Ander accent."

"Warden. From Weisshaupt."

"He knows, now."

"Where's Nate?"

"Nate? Is that one of the three assassins you sent in town to kill us?"

They turned to look at the man. He had just spoken loudly, making it clear he heard everything they just said. They sat slowly, next to each other, and spoke simultaneously:

"Three?"

"Assassins?"

The man slowly lowered his bow. "You sound surprised."

"We do not hire assassins. Well, I guess we did, once, but not for assassination. We didn't even know you were here. You said you met three?"

"Yes. A red-haired girl who was posing as a waitress at the Gnawed Noble, a blond elf that followed us when we exited the tavern, and a dark-haired Warden. Now if I remember correctly, he introduced himself as Nathaniel Howe this afternoon. So he would be 'Nate', right?"

Kaylee didn't answer, sank lower in her chair.

"My men are taking care of them as we speak," the Warden said, matter-of-factly.

"Your men are dead."

Kaylee's tone was detached, cold. She, too, was merely stating a fact. "Nathaniel was trained by the orlesian bard Leliana and the antivan Crow Zevran Aranai. These two survived through a Blight. I think they can handle a couple Wardens."

"Well, that is not what I've heard, at least for one of them," the man retorted, but his voice seemed to falter.

"Things are different. I believe that now he very much wants to live."

"Everything you say makes less and less sense to me."

"Well you wanted to talk before getting to the killing part. We agreed. We are two dripping helpless non-Wardens wrapped in towels. I think you are safe. Why don't you come and sit down with us. Show us your face."

The man hesitated, then took a couple steps forward, stepping into the light and removing his hood with one hand. He had a hard face, marked with multiple scars, short blond hair streaked with white and piercing blue eyes. His nose was crooked, as if it had already been broken and badly healed. Kaylee gave him about forty-five, fifty years.

She heard Alistair besides her gasp loudly. "No way…"

"What? You know him?"

The Warden's eyebrows arched slightly. He was looking at Alistair.

"No… not exactly. We had his portrait in the main hall at the old headquarters, over the fireplace."

"What?" Kaylee murmured, looking at the man with new eyes.

"He's the First Warden."

"Oh good," the man said, taking a seat opposite them. "Now that that's cleared out, I'm going to need some clarifications about who you are."

"What do you mean? Surely you have heard of us by now."

"Of course. But now I am faced with some contradictory evidence. You are obviously not Grey Wardens, which can lead to two conclusions, as far as I know. First one: you never were Wardens. Highly doubtful, but still plausible. Riordan never came back from Ferelden to report to me, all the Orlesian Wardens that were sent to Vigil's keep were dead before you arrived. No other Wardens than those you personally handpicked and trained were ever in contact with you. The fact that you are both alive after killing the Archdemon corroborated this theory, and made me very afraid that the beast was not truly dead for a while. What I failed to see was the benefits you could have reaped from the scam. With only the both of you as Wardens, being Warden Commander did not carry a lot of weight. You did not shy away from Warden duties, as difficult and gruesome as they might be. You had none of the advantages of belonging to the order. It got you persecuted, chased, almost killed several times, and could have kept you away from political power. And I do believe Riordan would have found a way to let me know if you were not Wardens when you met him. No, this possibility was rejected after some time."

"What is the other conclusion?"

"You're usurpers. Somewhere along the line you took the place of the real Wardens that reigned over this country. We received reports that things had changed in the past two years. You make a lot less public appearances, you often look worried or scared, you only meet with close counsellors and behind closed doors. You do not visit the Warden's keeps anymore. You were seen working with the Circle and the Dwarfs. Maybe you're mages, or know mages that can alter physical appearances, and had access to lyrium suppliers. An unofficial scout was sent to Denerim and confirmed he did not sense you. We believed you took out Kaylee and Alistair and put yourselves in their places, as King and Queen, counting on their hard-earned reputation and usurping their Grey Warden status. If true, this could not be allowed. I decided to come here myself to investigate, and kill you if need be."

They both listened to the Fist Warden with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Finally, Kaylee let out an incredulous snort. "That's insane!"

The First Warden narrowed her eyes at her. "Is it, considering the information we were able to gather on you? You seemed to have so many secrets to keep that you refused to meet my emissaries. All I had to rely on was gossip. I truly heard some far crazier things about you two. Archdemon worshippers?"

Kaylee opened her mouth to retort when a loud bang at the door startled them. Someone was trying to break through.

"Come on, help me!" someone yelled. "The door is jammed!"

"That's Nate."

The First Warden lowered his head.

A few more bangs, and the door burst open. The three rogues came barging in the room, weapons in hand. They stopped short at the sight displayed in front of them.

"Are you… hem… having tea half-naked with the man who wants to kill you?" Leliana's voice was beyond incredulous.

"Ah… no."

"The three of you are here," the First Warden said thoughtfully. "That means my men…"

"Are dead, yes." Zevran's voice was cold. "Guess what happens now?" He flipped his dagger, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Alistair raised a hand in a stopping gesture.

"Zevran. You can't. He's the First Warden."

"What?" Nathaniel breathed.

"You three should have come to us before taking matters into your own hands."

"Not that we don't understand… or appreciate… what you did. They were here to kill us," Kaylee intervened. "You should have told us," she said more softly. "We still have some things we need to talk about with him now. Please just… retire to your rooms. We'll talk later."

"All right," Leliana said after a pause. "Just… be careful."

She eyed the Warden suspiciously before stepping out, followed by Zevran and Nathaniel. Kaylee closed the broken door behind them as best she could, then sat back at the table. "Uh… sorry for your men."

"You were right. We were here to kill you. They protected you. If the four of us had gotten here, our attack would have been a lot quicker. I would not have had the time to hear you speak. It would not have stayed my hand, and given us time to talk. You would have died, or we would have, but none of us would be any closer to the truth."

"So you don't believe we're usurpers anymore?"

"Not after what I heard when I finally got to the balcony. And since you told me who was after us in the market. Somehow I don't think your legendary allies would have tried as hard to protect usurpers. You could certainly not have fooled them. But this raised a very important question, doesn't it?"

He leaned over the table, staring intently at them.

"What happened to you, exactly?"

A.N.: I looked around but didn't find any information on the First Warden, so I tried to make him my own. If you guys know anything about him, I'd be glad to know!