"Vaelyn! I'm coming!"

Alistair bashes another walking dead in the face with his shield as he tries to get to me. Our return to Ostagar has taken a turn for the worse. A darkspawn necromancer summoned an army of undead to stop us from leaving here alive, again. That undead army includes the ogre that now has me cornered. My back is to a wall, and the only reason I'm still alive is thanks to Wynne's spells. The damned creature tried to kill me like it killed Cailan, by grabbing me and crushing me. My armor is in shreds, the remains of my breastplate hanging from me in tatters. Spellweaver hums in my right hand, ready to aid me as I prepare myself for the ogre's next attack.

"Kill the necromancer! Don't worry about me!"

I don't have to see Alistair's face to know he doesn't want to do it, but I know he'll listen. His templar training is ideal for battling the necromancer and he knows it as well as I do.

The ogre roars and makes a swipe for my head, I duck and dive to the left, inwardly grinning as the ogre makes a noise of frustration as it's fist hits the wall where I was. I take advantage of the moment and throw a stonefist spell at it's head. I hear a growl just before Dane charges out of nowhere and latches himself to the ogre's hamstring. The ogre roars again and turns his attention to my mubari and ignores me, bending over in an attempt to hit my hound.

I see the opening and don't hesitate to take it. Screaming out a battle cry I run and launch myself at the creature. My elven blood serves me well, and I manage to climb up the creature before it has a chance to react. Spellweaver sings with a haunting brilliance in my mind as I bury it's blade in the ogre's head, the sound of metal against bone ringing through the air. The ogre collapses, sending me flying. Somehow I manage not to lose my grip on my sword and the force of my fall pulls it from the ogre's skull.

I land hard, but manage to tuck into a roll and come up fighting as a swarm of undead surround me. Dane charges and backs up till he has my back covered. I can't see Wynne, and I hope she's alright. Dane and I manage to fell a couple of the undead, and I can see Alistair trying to kill the necromancer. Blood splatters his armor and he looks to be tiring. Desperate, I use the last of my mana to throw a crushing prison spell at the bastard in an attempt to help Alistair.

The undead have Dane and I completely surrounded now, their eerie shrieks grating to my ears. I lose my dagger when it gets stuck in the rib cage of a skeleton and end up fighting with Spellweaver in one hand and my staff in the other. My arms are starting to turn to jelly, and my left shoulder feels like it's only held together by scraps.

Dane charges another undead and right before he gets to it, it drops to the ground, lifeless once again. All the other undead do the same and suddenly the clearing is silent. I immediately look for Alistair and find him pulling his sword from the chest of the now dead necromancer. Knowing he's okay, I turn around and look for Wynne. She's standing over near where we came out, a few undead lie still at her feet and she doesn't look badly hurt from here.

"Woof!"

Dane's happy bark makes me chuckle, and I sheath my sword so I can give him a scratch behind the ears.

"You're the finest war hound ever born, Dane."

Happy doggy eyes regard me while his little tail wags furiously. I give him another pat and then limp over to the ogre's corpse. Two blades stick from it's chest, and their bloodstained hilts look familiar. Intrigued, I stick my staff in a snow drift and use both hands to free the blades from the corpse. As soon as my hands have them free I recognize them, they're Duncan's. Joy and grief fill me, and I do my best to clean the blades off in the snow. I can hear Alistair's footsteps getting closer, and I turn to face him, holding the blades in front of me. He looks confused a moment and then freezes.

"Maker's breath... those are... were, Duncan's."

I numbly nod at him, and let him take them from my hands to inspect them. Wynne's come down to join us and stays quiet while Alistair and I grieve Duncan all over again. To my surprise Alistair offers the blades back to me, and I give him a questioning look.

"It wouldn't feel right using them. I can't really explain why. I'm just glad that no darkspawn used them."

I don't question, I think I understand. I'd already given him his father's sword, and Cailan's shield to use. He'd argued at first, but I'd felt that it was right for him to have them. His arguments had stopped as soon as his hand had grasped the sword in his hand. The blade had lighted up with a faint glow from it's runes, as if it knew it was being held by Maric's son.

"We need to get moving, before more darkspawn show up."

Wynne's voice of reason pulls Alistair and I back to the present and we turn away from the battlefield. We don't stop moving till we're back in the tower of Ishal. Not sensing any darkspawn anywhere nearby, I stop so I can try to do something about my armor. Wade's drakescale armor has served me very well till now, and I'm loath to loose it, but the majority of it is beyond saving. When the ogre had failed to crush me it had tried to remove my armor from me, like wrapping paper from a present.

"I don't think anything can be done to mend that. I'm afraid your armor is ruined."

Wynne's tone is well meaning, but I'm irritated that she's stating the obvious.

"Ruined? Are you certain?"

My sarcastic tone gets me an imperious look from Wynne and a suppressed chuckle from Alistair.

"I don't have anything else to wear, so the remains of my armor will have to do for now."

"That's not true, Lyn."

Alistair's statement catches me by surprise, and I give him a look that clearly asks what on Thedas is he talking about?

"We have Cailan's armor, and I think we could get it to fit you."

"That's a very sensible suggestion, young man."

The thought of wearing the armor of a dead king, let alone of a dead king who was my lover's brother is a bit creepy, and I raise my hands in protest.

"Whoa now, I don't think that's a good idea."

Wynne gives me a look that says very plainly that I'm being stupid.

"You need armor, Lyn. We won't be able to make it out of here and back to the others if we have to worry about you being unprotected."

"I have Dane, he's all the armor I need, Alistair."

Alistair's brown eyes have me pinned, he know's he's right and that I need to listen.

"I don't think you want Dane to replace your armor, love. I doubt you'd like him to jump in front of a blade for you."

"Oh the fade take you and your damned logic Alistair! Fine! I'll wear Cailan's sodding armor!"

Irritated, I begin unstrapping what's left of my drakescale armor, letting it fall to the floor in a heap as I glare at Alistair. Wynne snorts and steps out of the room, Dane following her, leaving me alone with Alistair. I'm having trouble unbuckling one of the straps on my shoulders, and I refuse to ask for help. Instead I mumble curses and begin to just pull at it in frustration. Alistair chuckles and removes his gauntlets, then moves to help me, ignoring my glare.

"Oh, stubborn little dragoness... drop your hands, you're only making it worse."

I direct an indignant sniff his way and stand stone still as he unbuckles the last of my armor. My wool tunic is torn, and the cold air that hits my skin makes me shiver involuntarily. As soon as all of the drakescale armor is off I rummage in my pack for a needle and thread so I can roughly patch my tunic so I don't freeze. Alistair just watches thoughtfully as I pull my tunic off and begin to sew as quickly as my chilled fingers can manage. I'm grateful that I had the foresight to pack the needle and thread.

A few minutes later I have a decent enough repair done, and pull the tunic back on before starting to put on Cailan's armor. Alistair helps me when I allow, and waits to say anything to me till he's behind me, securing the breastplate.

"If Wynne hadn't been likely to walk in at any moment I would have taken advantage of your lack of armor. As it was I was hard pressed not to do something evil."

My jaw drops open at Alistair's sultry tone, my thoughts had not been near anything like that!

"Alistair!"

I look over my shoulder to find his eyes alight with amusement and something smouldering beneath that.

"Vaelyn!"

He perfectly copies my shocked tone before he chuckles. His laughter is deep and very sexy, awakening a warm tingle that makes my whole body ache.

"You're such a cad to be thinking of that kind of thing while strapping your dead brother's armor on me!"

"Cailan had many suits of armor, I doubt this set had any special significance to him. And regardless, I'm sure he'd agree that it's better for you to wear it then the darkspawn. As for thinking of "that kind of thing" I happen to do it constantly. Hard to stop thinking about the perfect curve of how your back meets your behind..."

Alistair gets a look of dreamy bliss on his face and I can't help but blush. I always turn to complete jelly when he uses that sultry tone of voice.

"You almost ready, Vaelyn? My old bones can't take much more of this cold."

Wynne's voice cuts through the moment like a bucket of ice water. Now Alistair is blushing too, because nothing makes you feel more self conscious then knowing Wynne could have overheard everything you've just said to your lover. Alistair helps me get the rest of the armor on and then picks up my pack and hefts it onto his back. I move to take it back from him, but he gives me a quelling look and hands me my new helm. I give him an irritated look.

"Fine, be that way, my templar. I'll pay you back when we get to camp."

"Your templar?"

Oh Maker! I said my nickname for him out loud... I'm blushing again, damn it.

"Gah!"

Alistair is chuckling at me again, but it's a soft chuckle.

"I like it. I will always be your templar, love."

I give him a huge smile and a quick kiss before pulling the helm on my head and securing my weapons. I follow Alistair out into the hallway and Wynne doesn't show any sign of having heard our conversation. But that doesn't mean much, as the old bird is excellent at hiding things.

"Hurry up, child. I long for a warm fire and a hot cup of tea."

"Yes, Wynne. Would you like some nice mushy porridge with that?"

"Well, someone is certainly feeling better if she's giving me cheek!"

I give Wynne an innocent smile before lowering the visor on the helm and forging ahead. I'll be glad to be leaving Ostagar under my own power this time. We need to get Cailan's body down and burned before we can go. I'd love to do more but the sun will set all too soon.