Aedan and Alistair galloped towards the enemy palisades. Arrows rained down around them, and it seemed to the men riding with them that they did not care. More likely they just didn't notice. The ground was terrible, and horsemanship was not the art of nobles it was in Orlais. They were having trouble merely keeping their seats, let alone maintaining the formation. They both knew that it was a bad idea to be so close to each other on the battlefield, especially considering the nature of the war they were fighting, but they had ridden into battle side by side for the better part of a decade now and were not about to change all of that in the interest of safety.

It had all begun when King Alistair had backed Aedan against the Chantry. Alistair threatened that if they so much as thought about going after Aedan he would forcibly eject them from the kingdom. The Chantry took this as their opportunity to make a play for more formal power over the nation of Ferelden. Once the Chantry had openly rebelled against the king, religious zealots sprung up out of the woodwork to join in the newest Exalted March.

Ostensibly, the Chantry was declaring itself the victim and painting King Alistair as a mad tyrant for harboring Aedan, who they had officially excommunicated from the church and branded a traitor for the unprovoked assassination of the Grand Diviner. Of course, they didn't advertise that it was actually all about the young girl, Sarah Cousland, who was rumored among the high ranking members of the church to be carrying the soul of an Old God. They also didn't like to let it be known that the Grand Diviner had conducted a three year shadow campaign of violence against Aedan's family which culminated in the secret deployment of an entire battalion of Templar soldiers sent to capture or kill Morrigan and her daughter before Aedan could locate and reinforce them. They failed to beat him to her. When most of the battalion failed to come home, the dead were retroactively reassigned to far away units known to be in constant contact with the enemy and too busy to keep good records due to all the casualties. Or that Aedan had only acted against the Chantry directly after Templar soldiers adopted a scorched earth policy towards any village that had ever harbored them. All this was swept under the bear skin rug as they tried to rally the citizens of Ferelden against Aedan Cousland and the king who protected him.

It only half worked. Most people in Ferelden loved the king, and had a soft spot for Aedan, who had been hailed as the Hero of Ferelden for his role during the Blight, and for ending the previous civil war by convincing the Landsmeet to recognize Alistair as the rightful king. Most were unwilling to discard that loyalty despite the insistence of the Ferelden Chantry. Others had shorter memories, stronger religious convictions, or saw an opportunity. The fact that so many of these "religious zealots" came from Arlings that had sided with Loghain during the Blight may have been only a coincidence. Maybe.

In the end it didn't really matter. Ferelden was in full-scale civil war, and it had been a bitter war so far. It was not like the Blight, when everyone involved made a conscious effort to limit the scale of the battles so as to not piss away the strength of Ferelden before the true battle had even been joined. No, now they were playing for all the marbles, and the casualty reports on both sides showed it.

"You know, this seemed like it was a lot closer when you gave the order to charge," noted the king to his friend as the distance closed all too slowly.

His companion only grunted. Like most Ferelden nobles, Aedan was not a very good horseman. He was struggling just to keep himself pointed in the right direction. As they got closer, the accuracy of the arrows falling around them improved, and they began to lose men. Aedan did his best to ignore the screams. Some people aid that it was supposed to get easier with time. Aedan personally thought the people who said so had never felt what it was like to lose subordinates (and comrades) in battle. He gritted his teeth and just prayed it wouldn't be him or Alistair that caught an arrow in the chest over the next quarter mile. If they could just get through the hastily-erected ramparts, they would be able to crush this rebellion, and finally know peace.

Unfortunately, the Chantry did not intend to go down without a fight. Though primarily equipped with special magic to deal with mages, the ever-resourceful Church of Andraste had acquired a great deal of ballistas over the course of the war, and they had saved some for this final stand against the Loyalist army. The quiet clacking of the arrows falling to ground was being replaced by the much louder thuds of the larger bolts. As Aedan watched, a pair of bolts arced up from the emplacements and seemed to hang delicately in the air before tipping back over and crashing back to earth. One struck a nearby boulder and shattered into a thousand pieces, sending splinters fling through the air. It was close enough that he felt some of them bounce off of the plate mail that Alistair had talked him into wearing. The other bolt was luckier, and knocked the man on the other side of Alistair from his horse and impaled him in the ground.

They charged on.

They were close now. Aedan almost began to hope that they might complete their charge before a second volley of ballista fire had a chance to fire. He could make out the heraldry on the tabards of the soldiers. We'll make it! He almost believed it. Even a good crew took time to reload. Personally, Aedan would have used them much sooner in the battle. They had the range. Perhaps they were hoping for shock value to break the charge? Before he could complete the thought, a single bolt took to the skies. At least we only had the misfortune to charge against one competent artillery crew. His musings were cut short as his mind calculated the trajectory. He felt all of his muscles tense before his brain told him what was wrong. The bolt was arced perfectly to hit the king square in the chest.

Alistair was a brave man and one of the most skilled warriors in all of Ferelden, but he hated every single battle he participated in. If he wasn't worrying about getting a sword stuck through him, he was worried about catching an arrow in the knee (trololol). If he wasn't worried about that, he was worrying it was going to happen to one of his friends. He was looking forward to this war being over.

Being a better rider than Aedan, Alistair was able to spare a glance to his right to see how his friend was handling himself. He was puzzled by the look of panic on his friend's face. He'd never seen Aedan look so scared before. Well, Wynne told me she did once, but that was because he thought that Morrigan was—Alistair thought as he followed Aedan's gaze. Then he saw what his friend saw: a ballista bolt, headed right for him. Alistair was a good rider, but even a good rider can't make himself be in a completely different place.

Before Alistair could react to his impending death, he saw his friend's pupils suddenly dilate, and his movements accelerated. He was only a few feet away. He leapt from his horse, covering the short distance that might as well have been a mile to anyone else. Alistair was glad of that, but he didn't understand what Aedan thought he was doing. Even he couldn't parry a ballista bolt, surely? To the king's horror, he realized his friend's plan only after he saw and heard the bolt strike his friend squarely in the heart, come out the other side, and redirect his jump straight backwards and then into the ground. Aedan landed on his head with a sickening snap that Alistair desperately hoped was the exposed shaft of the bolt and not his friend's neck. Due to the decreased distance there was enough power left in the bolt that the momentum bowled Aedan clean over, snapping off one end of it as he rolled backward head over heels, before coming to rest flat on his back. Alistair jumped from his horse and dove to cover behind the boulder closest to his friend. His horse reared, and then whinnied in pain as a flurry of arrows struck it, and it too fell to the ground.

Alistair pushed his helmet back up so that he could see and called out to his friend: "Aedan! Are you alright?" But he didn't need the silence of Aedan's lack of reply to tell him what he already knew. Aedan was dead. He'd known it the instant he realized what had happened. He knew it was pointless, but he risked raising his head to get a look anyway. It was as bad as he had feared, and worse: Aedan's head was sitting at a terrifying angle. He'd been close enough that he'd seen his dull lifeless eyes of his friend even as he flew through the air, long before the landing which had obviously snapped his neck.

He didn't hear the cries of the rest of the cavalry which should have been reaching the enemy wall by now. It looked like the charge had been driven back. Or simply killed outright. The thought made him sick. Alistair didn't know what to do. Ten years of conflict, and despite all of it, he was paralyzed. If the Chantry sent out a counter charge, he would probably be captured or killed. And considering that the enemy had probably noticed the king of Ferelden and his best general fall, it was likely that they would send one. "I'm sorry, Aedan," he whispered quietly. He sat there behind his boulder, contemplating his end.

Back on a hill overlooking the battlefield safely out of range of even the best artillery or magic, Sarah Cousland helped "Great Aunt Wynne" treat the wounded. Nearby, her mother, Morrigan, was hastily dressing an arrow wound on a different soldier. Sarah could tell that her mother wished she was on the battlefield instead, but she hadn't argued when Aedan had begged her to stay behind the lines. He didn't say "If I don't come back…", but he didn't have to. His eyes had said it for him. Her mother had replied only "I'll stay with Sarah. A battlefield is no place for her, and I don't want to leave her alone under the circumstances. Of course, I've been on a battlefield over a dozen times where the only object on the field either side cared about was me, and I wouldn't be alone, I'd be with Dog, thought Sarah. Adults did strange things to cover what they were really feeling. Which was especially pointless in the case of her parents, who she knew perfectly well could read each other's emotions as easily as they could breathe. Sarah kept winding the bandage around the soldier she was treating.

"There," Wynne said to the soldier, "head on outside and get some rest. It will be at least a week before you can fight again, and perhaps it will all be over by then." The man gritted his teeth stoically and nodded as he got up and left. One way or another, all of this is going to be decided today. Wynne hated the suspense and lack of knowing that came from being behind the lines almost as much as Morrigan did.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Wynne nearly jumped when Sarah gasped, dropping her bandage to stare with wide eyes as if looking at something far off and horrible. Her mouth was open in a silent O. Morrigan was screaming, and had collapsed to her knees clutching her left breast. As Wynne ran to her, she realized it wasn't her breast she was clutching; it was her heart. Wynne had heard her friends yell in agony many times before over the course of her long life, but she had never heard such inhuman agony. Silent tears rolled down Morrigan's face as she clutched her heart so hard her nails were probably drawing blood even through her clothing. Wynne knelt down next to her and put her hand on Morrigan's shoulder.

"Morrigan! What's wrong?"

Morrigan looked at her, but instead of responding, she began transforming into a raven. Wynne knew to leave well enough alone, and stepped back as Morrigan disappeared through a hole in the center of the tent roof with only the sound of flapping wings betraying the fact that she had ever been there. Wynne, confused, but with the first frown of a theory on her lips, went back to see how Sarah was doing. She had regained a little of her composure, but still looked very shaken.

"Wynne! What…what was that?" she asked fearfully. Wynne narrowed her eyes. She had a pretty good idea what had happened. She held her arms out to the girl, who had seen so much conflict and death and pain but was still only eight years old.

"Shhh. There there, dear. Everything will be alright, dear," she said as she wrapped her arms around the girl.

Why do adults always say that when it isn't true! Sarah threw Wynne's arms off and rushed the flap of the tent to see what was going on outside.

Wynne sighed sadly. She knew what Sarah was thinking, and she hated herself for it. Of all people, she should have known that Sarah Cousland would want to take action, not be comforted by false promises. Wynne began the process of accessing the Fade. Normally vast sums of lyrium would be required for what she was about to do, but Wynne had a special connection with the Fade. It was only by the grace of a particular Fade spirit that Wynne even drew breath. It was that spirit she was communicating with right now. She closed her eyes, and then opened them in the Fade.

Morrigan streaked through the sky as fast as her wings could carry her. She ignored the rough winds that ruffled her feathers as she searched the battlefield with her now keen eyes for any sign of Aedan. She knew the general plan had called for a diversion by the bulk of the Loyalist forces while a small cavalry unit headed by Aedan and Alistair made a surprise charge against the (hopefully) mostly unguarded Chantry garrison fortifications. She did not see a cavalry force anywhere. All she saw was the bodies of knights and horses strewn about like a deadly path terminating less than two hundred yards from the walls. It was there that she spotted the king's heraldry, lying in a field of boulders.

She fought the wind as she banked for a slow circle, feeling like her feathers were going to be torn off from its force. She thought she saw the Warden next to the king, lying on his back, so she decided to make one more lower pass before landing. As she came around, her heart sank as she realized that he was not lying there taking cover. He was just lying there. In the shock of it, she forgot to fly in an evasive pattern now that she was low enough to be in range of the remaining enemy archers. Having been warned about Morrigan's abilities, they were instructed to shoot at any birds taking an unnatural interest in events on the ground. One of them got lucky, and Morrigan tumbled out of the sky as an arrow pierced her wing, crippling it.

Knowing she was not going to be able to recover, she changed back into human form and began casting a spell to cushion her fall, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood at the pain in her arm. She landed softly next to Alistair, who was just sitting there, nearly catatonic. Morrigan looked at the body of the man she loved and nearly threw up. After ten years of loving him, and trying to convince herself to listen to him when he said the risks were worth it, she realized she'd been fearing this very moment that entire time.

"That bolt should have hit me," Alistair said weekly, without the courage to look Morrigan in the eye.

"What?" She was sure she hadn't quite heard him.

"He dove in front of me. He took the bolt instead of me."

Morrigan took another look at Aedan's lifeless body before turning to face Alistair. Hot tears streaked her face. "I will kill you for this, Alistair." She knew he believed her.

"I deserve it. I wish he hadn't done it," he said miserably. Morrigan struggled to remind herself that Alistair loved him every bit as much as she did. After ten years of seeing their friendship, she knew that Alistair meant it. She closed her eyes and forced back the tears that would never stop flowing, at least on the inside. The risks were just as high as she had feared. She would never recover from this. She felt like her very soul had been shattered. I did not really mean what I said to Alistair. It would not be what he would have wanted. And besides, it would not bring him back. Better to take revenge on the men who killed him than the man he died to protect.

"Right, well we're pinned down here, aren't we?" Alistair asked rhetorically as a continuous hail of arrows and an occasional ballista bolt rained down around them, presumably in response to the spotters seeing Morrigan land in the area.

"Yes. Did you have a reserve force? Your charge did not work," she added unhelpfully. Damn decorum, I cannot spare the effort right now.

"There will be. We have some good officers, they will rally a second wave. Now that you're here we can probably hold off any counterattack long enough for them to get here. Can you reach Aedan's body?"

Morrigan looked at the large patch of intervening, open ground between her and his body, which was rapidly filling with arrow shafts. "No," she said simply.

"Looks like we wait then."

"I will see the bodies of the men in that stronghold burn to ash before the sun sets tonight," Morrigan said through her agony. Alistair could see her clenched jaw muscles working as she fought back the bitterness in her words that threatened to choke them.

"We'll get them. Don't worry." Privately, he wasn't as sure as her.

Back in the Fade, Wynne was bargaining with the Fade council for Aedan's life. So far the spirits had flatly refused to give it up. Wynne had only one more card to play.

"Would you accept a trade, then?"

"What have you left to trade with, Mage?" mocked the spirit council, "You don't even have your own life to bargain with anymore. You live purely at our pleasure."

"Then it should please you to correct such an unnatural arrangement and accept my bargain," she replied. She knew they could do it. She didn't know if they would do it. And even if they did, it was a high price to pay.

A timid spirit stepped forward and began to address the council. Its voice was uncertain at first, but it gained confidence as it continued to speak. "My friends, have we all forgotten the decision that was made here seven years ago? When we agreed that we should rescue Aedan Cousland from the prison he built with his own mind in order to facilitate the most true and unconditional love we had ever seen? How can we deny this Mage her request, if she is willing to sacrifice so much to save the life we already deemed worth saving?"

"Be silent, Quagroth," ordered one of the council members, not unkindly. "We will deliberate." With that the scenery disappeared, leaving Wynne alone on a windswept plane that continued forever in all directions, with only Quagroth for company. They stood there, silently, for what felt like an eternity. Wynne sighed as the eternal wind of the Fade swept through her old, gray hair.

"Are you sure this would even be the right thing? He died a good death. An honorable one. He died in battle defending those he loved. I believe he would be able to find peace."

"I don't doubt that, Quagroth. He would be satisfied with a death such as this one. But his work is not done. His daughter is not yet safe. His mate will never recover from the blow she has suffered."

"She does truly care for him. I meant what I said in there. We have never seen a truer love in all of time."

Wynne began to walk, and Quagroth floated alongside her. She knew she could walk for a century without worrying about being absent when the council reconvened. In the distance, she could make out the cliffs that Aedan had constructed for himself so many years ago when he was lost.

"Quagroth, why are we here?" She asked, suddenly realizing where they were.

"This is the land the Warden built for himself. We saw no need to eradicate it. He will be happy here. This time it won't be a prison but an eternal hunting ground."

"I don't think that's what would make him happy."

"And what would?"

"Her."

Neither said anything for quite some time.

"Wynne, would you really be willing to go through with what you suggest?"

"I assume that you have watched events surrounding the Warden. You should not have to ask." I pay it gladly, she thought sadly.

"I know. Council members, my decision is made," said Quagroth solemnly.

"What?!" Said Wynne, shocked. "What do you mean, your decision?"

"I'm head of the council now." He didn't elaborate.

As the trappings of the council chamber reappeared around them, the echoing voices of the spirits began to speak: "We require a link, Mage. His path has been severed. To send him back, we require someone who can show him the way."

"I know of someone," said Wynne, "grant me the power to bring her to you."

"Done. You have precious little time, Mage."

"I will need little of it." Wynne

Sarah had seen her mother fly out over the battlefield, but could barely make out her form now. She ran to the nearest sentry.

"Soldier! May I borrow your spyglass?"

Even if he had not recognized her as the Cousland heir, no one could resist when Sarah asked for anything. She was too adorable a little girl for that. The guard handed her the bronze tube with a smile, and lifted her onto his shoulders so that she could see.

"Thank you sir," she said as she opened it and began scanning the sky for her mother. She found the raven just as an archer did, and she focused just too late to see the arrow fly straight through her mother's wing. "NO!" she screamed, and began kicking. The guard, not knowing what she had just seen, helped her down. She shoved the spyglass back into his hands as she took off running. She didn't know where. Dog followed her, knowing instinctively that she was upset and that he needed to stay with her. She hid under the ramp onto the battlements and rocked back and forth as she cried into Dog's fur. After what felt like an eternity, a gentle voice broke her reverie.

"Sarah. I need your help." It was Wynne. She looked up at her, and tried to hide her tears. "There's no need to hide your tears, child. Everything will be alright. I promise. For real, this time," she added, before Sarah could comment. She held out her hand to Sarah, who stood and took it.

"Where are we going?" she asked suspiciously, knowing intuitively that they were not about to go for a walk.

"Where we can make a difference." Wynne closed her eyes again, and brought them back to the fade. This normally would have been impossible, but Sarah had certain gifts when it came to the Fade. She would learn about those in the years to come. Wynne wished only that she would be around to help teach her about them. Oh well. Her parents will do fine without me.

As the Loyalist camp faded from view, Sarah looked around in wonder. This was the first time she had ever come to the Fade while conscious. "Where are we?" she asked in wonder.

"This is the Fade, Sarah. Some day you will be able to come here on your own, when you're older."

"Have you brought her?" Boomed the voices of the council.

"I have."

"Very well. Saraah Cousland, step forward!" the voice commanded.

"Who the hell says!" she yelled at the top of her little lungs. Wynne's heart broke with love for the spunky little girl. Alone of all the people she had met, Sarah never backed down from anyone, for any reason.

"How dare you!" yelled one of the council members. The others quieted him.

"Sarah, we are here to give your father another second chance. We will use you to guide him back. Are you strong enough to show him the way?"

"Are you calling me a weakling?" she said, not having any idea what he was talking about, but wanting to sound brave.

"Very well. It might behoove you to temper that tongue, child. It will get you into trouble someday."

"That's what my mother keeps telling me," she murmured to nobody in particular.

"Wynne, are you prepared?"

"I am."

"Very well. It is done."

As Wynne's vision began to go dark, she reflected briefly on her long life, and found she had no regrets. With her last breath, she made her peace. This was the right decision. She had already seen and done far more than she deserved to. It would be nice to rest.

I pay it gladly…

Sarah woke up again under the battlements with Dog, exactly where she had left. She looked around, and saw Wynne lying on the ground. She ran over to her. Wynne wasn't breathing.

"Wynne! Wynne!" She was panicked now, she had no idea what to do. The guards would later tell her mother that she stayed over the body, refusing to move, until she got back.

Aedan was slightly confused. For a few moments, he had been back in the land he had been trapped in all those years ago, except this time it wasn't horrible. It had been peaceful. He had been content. But then something had come. He couldn't tell what, but he knew he needed to follow it. It had led him here, back to a land of pain and cold. As he struggled to command his limbs, he realized that he was cold because he was covered in a sticky red substance. Blood! He realized with a shock. My blood…

"Well, we're not dead yet," Alistair said glumly for about the seventh time. Morrigan had long stopped listening. Other than blasting the occasional Chantry soldier brave or stupid enough to poke his head above the enemy battlements, there hadn't been much to do. Morrigan felt very strange. She felt like she was forgetting something, or was on the verge of remembering something important. Then she heard a groaning from behind her. It was the Warden. He was sitting up!

"What the fuck happened to me?" he asked, confused. He tried to stand, and only Morrigan's quick shielding spell prevented him from absorbing half a dozen arrows. Alistair took advantage of this brief period of safety to sprint across the small gap and drag Aedan over to their rock.

"I think I was dead…"

Morrigan was looking at him in amazement. Is it true? How can it possibly be true? And yet, she continued to hope. She gently stroked his cheek. Yes, it was real. And the pain in her arm told her she was not dreaming. She threw her good arm around his neck and melted into him, ignoring the taste of his blood on his lips. He kissed her back with as much effort as he could muster, which wasn't much, but appeared to be increasing by the minute. When they broke for air, they pressed their foreheads together and smiled at each other, and then began to laugh.

"I hate to interrupt you two, but we've got reinforcements," Alistair said almost gratefully. He wished he and his wife loved each other like that.

The pair of them looked up at the formation of friendly troops that had finally mustered, but they did not really care. They were dead to everything except each other. They had been given their second second chance.

Once the reinforcements joined up with them, they marched forward like an unstoppable tide and took the weak fortress with few casualties on either side. They surrendered nearly without a fight, when they saw the Warden standing there with Morrigan in his arms. Some bowed down and whispered it was a miracle, much to the chagrine of the Chantry officials. They forbid their men to speak of it, but they knew the rumor would spread. Even if the entire organization hadn't just been captured, news of the miracle would have doomed their rebellion to failure. The war quickly wound down, and things went back to normal, for a time. Aedan and Morrigan found Sarah weeping over Wynne's body. Sarah told them what had happened. They were sad, but they understood what had happened, and they were grateful.