Soris closed his eyes and shook his head as his cousin. Shianni steadied herself against him and laughed, "Yeah, and then one of those shem mages looked at the Warden and was like, 'Maker! You look terrible!'"

Neria laughed and put a hand over her brow, "You didn't hear inside when he called Zev a girl."

"That's his name," Shianni replied,

"I am too pretty. It is a curse." Zevran sighed, eyes sparkling as the red-haired elf smirked at him.

"Ha!" Shianni rapped on the door before entering, and Valendrian turned from amidst the small gathering of elves.

"Excellent! I am pleased you had the time to join us. A good meal for those who saved so many and go to save more - seems the least we can do. And friends of Duncan's at that."

The hahren beckoned Neria closer, and the mage bowed her head, "Thank you for inviting my companions and I."

"Neria... Shianni said that was your name? What is your last name, miss?"

"It was Surana."

Valendrian' s expression softened, "And you're a mage... where did you come from?"

Neria glanced to Alistair as he was tugged off by Soris to fill a glass with ale, Leiliana by his side. The small house of the hahren was filled with the people they'd saved from the Tevinter slavers, the air warm and rich with the spread of food prepared for them. Her cheeks coloured, "Here, ser. Well... originally..."

"I remember the day the templars took you," he quietly said, taking Neria's hand in his weathered grasp. "Though for the better of many, I have always find it difficult when the Chantry takes our children from us."

"That is kind of you to say."

"I am sorry your parents could not live to see this day."

Neria's stomach twisted, but her voice held, "Oh? We... have not been on speaking terms. They sent letters when I was a girl, but..."

"Your brother should still be here, though I doubt he would remember you."

"Alim?" Neria froze as Valendrian squeezed her hands.

"Yes, he was with me in the cage." The hahren's brow furrowed as he quietly said, "They took your father last week. Your mother was killed in the lockdown."

"Oh."

Zevran appeared by Neria's side, guiding a glass into her hand, "After such a day, my friend, perhaps a drink would suit. It is not so bad, either."

"Thank you," Neria replied, her eyes unfocused as Valendrian spoke a bit more before excusing himself and disappearing back into the house.

"A brother? You have never spoke of such things."

Neria looked at the fire, smiling and accepting someone's hand as they approached. The young girl gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, offering the Maker's blessing before being tugged away by her mother with an apologetic grin.

"He was a toddler when I was taken to the Tower." Neria flatly said, and her eyes focused back through the house as the sounds faded away. A young man was by Valendrian's side as they wove back through the elves.

"Let me get you another glass, you look parched," Zevran murmured, taking the wooden goblet as the hahren smiled tiredly.

"Neria?"

"Yes, yes, it's her," Valendrian chuckled, waving a hand at the elven mage before adding. "Alim, you remember the fight in the apartments."

"Of course I do." The young man met Neria's eyes, hauntingly similar to her own. "Thank you for saving us."

"It is the least I might do," Neria found her voice and inclined her head, only to find herself caught in his embrace. Flushing, she patted her brother's arm.

"I wish father could have seen you," Alim's voice cracked as he stepped back, fingering Neria's hair. "He spoke of you. Mother never did but... "
"He did?"

"I'll leave you two." Valendrian nodded and melded into the group of elves. Alistair and Leiliana stood a head above the rest, the only humans present.

Alim smiled through the bruise along his cheek. His hair was ruddy brown and cut short, revealing his ears. "Come on, let's go outside."

"Alright," Neria whispered, finding the goblet back in her hands as she was lead up a ladder out to a view over the channel. The roof of the hahren's home looked down on a meagre garden, and there were buoys in the below water. The night was clear, the moon half full and casting light over the rampart that separated the alienage from the water's edge.

Alim sunk his hands in his pocket, watching her as she fidgeted, finally downing her glass of wine. "I didn't know if you were real sometimes."

Licking the red drink from her lips, Neria looked at him, shifting her weight. Her armour clattered lightly, and she ran a hand down to tug at the jerkin beneath it. She looked in the glass, "Maybe I'm not..."

"Oh come on," he grinned, and they climbed up the wall to sit on the stone rampart. Dangling their feet over the side, they looked over the alienage.

There were lanterns lit along the streets, and a few strung up in the vhenadahl, casting shadows over the people in the streets. It was getting late, and many were wary of curfew, if not still recovering from the illness that swept through.

"What was the Tower like?"

Neria looked into into the tree, "It was the home I knew. They treated me well, I learned a great deal."

"And now you're a Grey Warden?" Alim pulled up a leg, rapt as he watched her.

Neria nodded, looking to him and relaxing a little, "I am. So is my ... so is Alistair, the human man who came with us."

"They treat you well?"

"Who?"

"The humans," Alim smirked, as though it were obvious.

"My friends treat me ... well, they are my friends." Neria grinned, flushing as she looked back into the alienage. "Do other people matter so much?"

"I guess not," he chuckled, following her gaze. "But you're a mage too - I mean, you don't look like a mage, but Maker, the way you fought! I can't imagine many are very glad to see you coming."

Neria grinned, almost rolling her eyes as she muttered, "I don't know about that."

"What? Father would be so proud of you - wielding a sword. Saving us like you did. If only... well..." Alim choked up and looked away, letting go of his leg.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner," she whispered. "Valendrian mentioned that he was taken."

"Can't be helped, right?" Alim furrowed his brow as he saw a dog running around. It looked like a mabari. "I know it's not your fault."

"Thank you." There was silence, and the dog looked up and barked. Neria grinned and waved down.

"Is that your mabari?"

"Yes," she grinned, glancing at the young man. "Ualan."

"Mother never wanted a dog around," Alim rolled his eyes, pulling something from his pocket to throw down. Ualan chased it, and the bread roll was soon gobbled up. "She worried a lot about everything."

Not about me, Neria thought, keeping the smile on her face as she watched Ualan circle back and woof at them.

"Thank you for saving us," Alim suddenly said.

Quirking her brow, Neria glanced at her brother and said, "It's what I do."


"Please keep in touch? It - I mean it never bothered father that you were a mage. It doesn't bother me." Alim squeezed her hand, even as Neria withdrew.

"I will do what I can. I head to war."

"Oh...right." Alim shook his head as he muttered, "Sorry. I know Valendrian has already sent out a call for volunteers."

"The Blight threatens us all."

"Yeah," The young man shifted his weight, before saying, "Mother kept me away from swords a lot. I can cook a mean stew though?"

"Better than me," Neria weakly smiled, clasping her hands over her chest to bow as she saw Zevran sloshing out the door. "I must return with my companions."

"Maker watch over you, Neria."

"And you, Alim." Neria clasped her hand over the small charm he'd given her, concealing it as she sidestepped to catch Alistair as he came out the door.

"I suppose it is getting late."

"Getting early is more like it," Leiliana grinned, giving Alistair a push. "We did rather well for a bunch of - what do they call us? Shemlen?"

"Think you'll be sober in time for the Landsmeet?" Neria smirked as Alistair looked down at her.

"I'm not drunk."

"Oh no, of course not."

Alistair pulled himself up, clearing his throat as Leiliana and Zevran strolled ahead of them. Over the bridge to the market, he stumbled a bit and finally said, "So who was he?"

"What?" Neria's cheeks flushed.

Furrowing his brow, Alistair watched his feet as Neria held his arm. He practically pouted. "That elf. The one you snuck out of the party with."

"Oh-h..."

"You know I don't want to be king," Alistair said in a rush, a flush on his cheeks from the ale. "I love you, Neria."

"What?" Neria couldn't help but giggle, and Leiliana shot a look back at them. "He... he is my brother, Alistair."

"You have a brother?"

Neria produced their papers for the guard at the gate, and they were allowed entry to the markets. The stalls were closed, and beggars slept here and there against walls and barrels. "Yes."

"You never mentioned that." Alistair almost stumbled, and Neria slipped her arm in his, their armour scraping together.

"He was younger than I when I was taken to the Tower," Neria whispered, helping him through the market. "I didn't think Valendrian would remember me - or that Alim would."

"Alim? That him? And he remembered you?"

"Yes," she murmured, "He remembered my hair."

"It is nice," Alistair sighed, and they walked the rest of the way to the gates. Inside the arl's estate, Zevran and Leiliana disappeared to their beds as she hesitated.

"I do not know where your room is," she whispered as he stood up on his own.

"Let me stay with you?"

Neria's cheeks flushed as she glanced down the hall, and Alistair stepped closer, pressing her back against the door to her room. "I - what about the arl?"

"I don't care," he whispered, tracing his fingers through her hair before kissing the edge of her lips. "I don't know what will happen tomorrow, but I just want to be with you."

"Then why do you keep pushing me away?" Neria turned her cheek away, closing her eyes as she felt his breath.

Alistair froze, putting his hand on the doorframe, "I have to do what's right. Don't I? Isn't that all we've done? What is right? What is best for Ferelden? If I'm... Maker, if I'm king..."

"But what about us? Is this right?"

Head lolling forward, Alistair sighed out, unable to quite sober as he strained, "I know what I feel."

"So was this to be a goodbye?" Neria hiccupped and sunk back farther as he swayed, "Perhaps not drunk, but you are not sober. Would you..."

Alistair closed his eyes and reached for her hand, "I've wanted to be with you. You know that. Please... Neria... "

Tilting her chin down, Neria rested her hand back on the latch for the door.

I can always feel you - the tug at my soul, somehow made right by you when every other is wrong. The way your smile makes me sing, and every blunder of word and act makes me feel like I am not alone - that I fit in next to you. That we fit together.

"I suppose I'll see you in the morning."

Neria kept her eyes closed, thoughts cloistered as she said, "Yes."

Alistair almost touched her cheek, but closing his hand into a fist he pushed off and walked with uneven steps towards the stairs. Hearing the clank of his boots, Neria opened her eyes, unable to look as she opened the door and fell back into her room.

The feeling was pulling away, the need that was there when he was close, the union of their blood that their sworn duty brought. She could feel the pulse in her temples, and she pulled off her armour, leaving it to clank on the floor. It was dark in the room, the only light and heat from an oil lamp left lit by the bed.

She hated that Wynne was right, that Morrigan was right. The ridiculous selfishness of their acts - she hadn't asked for it, she had not asked to be a Warden, to survive alongside him, to fall into his arms. Her temples would not cease throbbing, and why - why could she see only him? His words filled her mind, laughter and fear, everything they had endured.

Tomorrow she would lose him. The words need not be said, the last kiss need not be given. The sorrow was resonating in her bones and hurting her very soul.


"Trouble sleeping, sister?"

Pulling her robes closer, Neria turned and nearly toppled her cup of tea. Scrambling, she picked up the dropped buiscuits, almost knocking heads with Riordan as he reached to stop the cup.

"I apologize," he grinned, "I did not mean to startle you."

"It is alright," Neria replied, offering Riordan one of the cookies on her plate. As he took it she looked down and said, "A night that I sleep soundly would be the odd one out."

Taking up the plate, Riordan motioned to the bench by the fire, and they moved to sit. Cupping her mug of tea, Neria stared at the dwindling embers.

"Such is our lot. I remember my first days." Riordan broke the biscuit, eating it before adding, "They are different for me now, the dreams. That they have returned."

"How so?"

Stretching his feet out, Riordan said, "They are more complete. More coherent."

Eyes dark with fatigue, Neria watched the embers, "I don't know if that would be more disturbing or not."

The man chuckled oddly before eating another bit of biscuit, "I am not sure of that myself."

They sat in the cold kitchen eating the breads, and Neria drank her tea. Some time passed before he spoke.

"So our brother goes before the Landsmeet on the morrow?"

"So far as I can tell," Neria replied. "I know he very much wishes to stay dedicated to our duty."

"He is a good man. He might even make a good king," Riordan said. "Maker, listen to me. We will get our order thrown from Ferelden again."

"It all seems too much coincidence."

"Perhaps. Though it has sounded like you have had much influence across the land."

"Not by choice."

Riordan stood up and put the kettle over the fire, adding another log. The dry wood caught and the room brightened. "But you have done it none the less."

"To raise an army for the Blight. To stop the civil war so maybe people will concentrate on what really matters."

"I apologize, I did not mean to infer anything."

Neria covered her brow, setting her mug on the bench beside her, "No. I am sorry, ser. I am tired."

"As we all are."

Cheeks colouring, Neria said, "Yes. And it will not improve."

Riordan sat back down beside her, crossing his ankles over and stretching his feet toward the fire. "For one so young, you hold few illusions about what comes."

"I have been in the field for months," Neria whispered, a quick motion of her hand and the right phrase causing the fire to roar up hot. "I have seen so much. But you have too."

"Yes. But I am old enough to be your father."

Neria turned her fatigued eyes to Riordan, "That does not excuse anything you have gone through."

"Perhaps not," he grinned.

"Will you help us with the army? I know so little..." Neria shivered, pulling into herself as she suddenly said, "I know so little about any of it, but everyone turns to me. I am trying to learn, to stay strong, to make the right decisions... but what if I am wrong? How many people will die?"

"I have no military mind. You have fought as many darkspawn as I, if not more."

Neria ran her hands over her face, shuddering again and Riordan touched on her knee. Flushing, she dropped her hands and looked down, "And people. I kill so many."

"It is your duty." Riordan withdrew his hand, leaning to take the kettle from the flame. He filled his mug before topping Neria's too, the dark leaves floating in the water. "I intend to return to Ostagar to learn of the horde's movement. I will help you through this. Ideally, you and Alistair might join me, but... you must lead your army."

Neria shook her head, hugging the cup close, leaning over the warm steam, "My army. It is no such thing."

"Then whose is it, sister?" Riordan grinned tiredly before drinking his tea, "Act with virtue and confidence, and they will follow you. As, from the sounds, so many already do."


A quiet knock roused Neria's attention from where it had drifted unfocused out the window. The door opened and Wynne and Leiliana walked in, the bard breaking a pastry as she smiled.

"Good morning, sweetness."

Neria looked away as she tightened the strap on her armour, sucking in a breath to pull the cuirass flush. Leiliana stepped up and bade the elf raise her arms, helping to secure the rest of her straps and adjust the mail beneath.

"I am sorry for what I said, child."

The elf raised her brow looking back as Leiliana helped her with her greaves. "For what, Wynne?"

"You and Alistair deserved the happiness you had. You helped each other through so much, I wanted you to know I was wrong. It was not selfish, you cherished what you had."

Neria tugged away from Leiliana, offering a small thanks as she picked up her helm. It was something they'd found in Honnleath. She ran her hand over the bronzed wings on either side before donning it. "Has everyone eaten?"

"Yes, the arl had a great feast laid out for us," Leiliana said, brow furrowing as she watched Neria move.

"Good. Then we meet out at the gate in ten. Let us get there in good time and make the best impression we can."

Leiliana touched her arm, and the elf leaned to accept a quick hug before the bard slipped out the door. Wynne lingered as Neria latched her sheath and tucked the dagger under her things.

"Is there something more you wish, Wynne?"

The elder mage leant onto her staff, still watching Neria check the last things before their eyes met. "You were good for each other."

Trying to harden her heart, Neria could only speak in a whisper to keep from choking, "We will always be Grey Wardens. We still have the Blight to defeat."

"I am so sorry, my dear," Wynne said, touching Neria's shoulder.

Striding by, Neria shouldered her satchel and said, "Of anyone, you have shown me the duties I must uphold. As you said... I cannot be selfish."

Wynne's reply was ignored as Neria walked into the hall, leaving the door open behind her.