A/N: Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read (still!) and especially to send a review. I sit and giggle stupidly to myself every time a review notice comes in, so they're very, very much appreciated!

This is a bit of a talk-fest I'm afraid, and Alyce uses a naughty word staring with 'W'. Kids, just so you know, it's not nice at all to use it in polite company. Unless you want your mouth washed out with virtual lye soap…and receive a very stern talking to by Aunt Mildred…Just make sure you blink while reading, okay?

-oo-

Chapter 51 – A Long Day

The chair was incredibly comfortable for something so old but it seemed to fit both the style of the old house and her friend. There had always been an air of age about Alyce, Neria reminisced. Not maturity; but a kind of old-batty-ness about Amell. For as long as Neria had known her Alyce had never much cared about what she said or did, unless she knew it would hurt someone. It was what Neria had admired most about Alyce; her outspokenness and her out-doing-ness, along with her sense of what was right. They had always been an odd couple at the Tower - well, an odd trio, if one counted Jowan - in appearance as well as character. Despite their differences, they had developed a mutual respect and admiration for each other; Neria even more so since Varel's rescue at Vigil's Keep. It was then that Neria realised what a powerful mage Alyce Amell had come to be. Powerful, eccentric, dedicated, studious, warm, loyal, insightful…all those things and more.

Mature? Her eyes drifted somewhat impatiently over the shuddering, cackling bundle of expensive velvet and lace on the floor. That's a definite no…Neria concluded, sinking deeper into the threadbare upholstery. Her fingers ran idly along the leftover tufty bits at the perimeter of the seat. It was comforting, even if it was a bit like running one's hands through an elderly man's comb over.

Alyce continued to demonstrate just how mature she was with that cackle-snort laughter of hers that made Neria wince every time Alyce snorted, fearing for the health of her friend's nasal tissue. There was however, little else she could do but wait and listen in pain. Alyce had not finished laughing at her; breaking into peals of rib-shaking laughter every time she happened to glance over. Neria supposed it was better than the last time they had seen each other…Though Neria was in two minds now whether she preferred Alyce angry at her or Alyce finding her unresolvedly amusing. It was beginning to wear on her already anxious nerves.

She needed to get this over with. She was running out of time.

"Alright, you've had your laugh," Neria decided enough was enough. "You've had your chance to mock me. Your fun. Thank you. Can we proceed?"

Remaining on the floor with her legs propped up onto the long chaise lounge; Alyce shook a finger at her. "Oh no," she said, eyes red with unshed, mirthful tears. "This opportunity may not happen ever again. I'm running with it."

"Until you fall over and break your neck, Enchanter Amell," Neria growled, unimpressed.

"Ooh! So formal…" Alyce made no effort to rise, instead crossing her feet at the ankles. She took a deep, calming breath. "Okay…okay…no, wait, one more…pfft…! Maker, my sides hurt…!"

"Don't expect any sympathy from me," Neria scowled at her.

"Ha! And don't expect any from me!" Alyce snapped back. "Hoo, Ner you have been a busy, busy little Warden Commander."

"Too busy," Neria slumped impossibly further. "The First Warden sent me a letter. It was practically on fire. Varel had to hand it to me with tongs."

"Trouble in Grey Warden paradise?" Alyce enquired with a far too innocent stare. "And I thought all Grey Wardens were such happy, accepting people."

"Don't make me zap you, Alyce."

Resting her head on her arms, Alyce sighed. "Zap…Holy Smite…It's all the same to me," she muttered under her breath. Waving a hand airily at the diminutive mage in the overlarge chair, she added more loudly; "Oh go on, everyone wants to."

"I sense a story there."

"One less exciting than yours, I'll wager," Alyce said. She paused then scrambled upright. "Oh, very well then..."

She settled herself atop the chaise, hiking the skirt of her evening dress above her knees so she could sit cross-legged, grabbing a moth-eaten cushion to hug. The fire in the grate had warmed the room nicely, but neither mage could find any dry wood and as Alyce had very firmly vetoed the idea of burning the furniture, it was beginning to burn low already. Best get this over with before they started freezing to death.

"So…" Alyce began cautiously. "You knew what you were creating when you agreed to perform this ritual with this marsh witch of yours?"

Neria nodded. "It was an act of desperation, Lyce," she said, throwing her head back and regarding the ceiling beams. "And of cowardice on my part, I know," she added in a smaller voice.

"Well," Alyce said reasonably. "No one wants to die. Especially if they think they have something worth living for."

Neria's attention snapped back to Alyce. She winced, knowing full well what Alyce was referring to. That had been the thing that had angered Alyce the most; Neria's cheek stinging in remembrance as she recalled the look in her friend's eye that day…Neria did not feel guilty about what she had done; she couldn't. The decision she had made the night before they had faced the Archdemon had been made perhaps under great stress but given the opportunity to do it again, Neria was sure she would make the same decision again. No, she wasn't guilty at all…not about that. It was just the way she had gone about it at the time, using the feelings of another to obtain something else…her conscience was a trifle uneasy about that. She might have ended the relationship with Alistair, but Alistair hadn't ended it with her and she had known it.

It would be something Neria could never bring herself to forgive or forget.

Across from her, Alyce threw her hands into the air. She let fly an 'argh', before leaning back. "Fine, guilt-trip over. What are you going to do?"

"Morrigan knows now that I lied to her," Neria told her quietly. "She also knows why I lied, why I didn't kill her mother…" Looking over at Alyce, Neria was unsurprised to see an eyebrow lifting on her friend's forehead. "How could I murder the woman who saved us? We both – Alistair and I – would have died at Ostagar if she hadn't swooped down to rescue us and take us to safety. I would have preferred it if she rescued someone more important, like the King or Duncan or…I don't know…"

"She could have torched General Loghain while she was at it…" Alyce suggested. "That would have been a fun thing to see."

Neria looked even more uncomfortable when the old general's name was mentioned. Alyce narrowed her eyes at her, but decided to move on. She did not even want to think about whether or not Neria the Grey Warden pulled yet another swifty and managed somehow to not execute that man…

"So…Flemeth transformed, swooped and saved," Alyce said quickly before Neria had a chance for more worrying confessions about her life during the Blight. "And then she sent her daughter to travel with you, because you know, the two remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden didn't already consist of a competent healer-battle-mage and really needed someone magical to accompany them."

"Alyce…"

"…and practice being Magey…so she could be powerful enough to be inhabited later," Alyce continued, pouting at a nearby ottoman.

"Alyce…"

"Because you know, helping a powerful witch-turned-demon-turned-whatever to continue living…we really need one of those in Ferelden. Bit of colour for the country. Attract a bit of tourist money..."

"And here I was thinking you were going to take me seriously," Neria sighed, earning her a sharp look from the taller mage.

"Oh I'm taking you seriously, Ner, believe me…" Maintaining her glare, Alyce waved her hand again. "Continue."

"You also said the guilt trip was over," Neria reminded her.

"Meh."

"Alyce, you know what this means, well…apart from all that stuff you've just told me about, that is," Neria said quickly.

"The end of the world as we know it?" Alyce suggested dryly.

"Hardly," Neria sighed back. "I know you'll tell me I'm being a hypocrite when I felt…betrayed when Morrigan first proposed the ritual. We'd been through so much together. We had become friends. I trusted her and then all of a sudden it seemed as though the 'friendship' was merely a means to an end; buttering me up so I could agree to the ritual."

"Wouldn't it have been better to simply butter up the King…potential king?" Alyce said thoughtfully. "Hm…you know; I'd like to see that too…King Alistair popping out of a pie, covered in…" She cleared her throat hastily, cheeks cherry red. "Never mind…you were saying?"

"Hm…pie…" Neria murmured.

"Blueberry, I'm thinking…"

"I'm thinking something savoury…"

"Not sweet?" Alyce's eyebrows rose.

"Alistair's sweet enough," Neria explained.

"And my entire set of molars just rotted right out of my head with that comment," Alyce said, rolling her eyes, the image of the King popping out of a pie in her head being replaced by someone older and darker causing her to thump her temples with her fists. "Can we just move on…?" she pleaded.

"Anyway…" Neria continued as requested. "Morrigan and Alistair…didn't get on, though when we did it…and when I say 'we' I really mean Alistair and Morrigan, Morrigan and Alistair…darkened room, incense…and you know I never heard a single scream, so he must have enjoyed himself."

"That's how you justify whoring your fellow Grey Warden?" Alyce asked, agog. "And they didn't…like each other? Andraste's bouncing bazoombas, Ner…"

"Bazoomba? What the Fade is a 'bazoomba'? You make it sound so…dirty," Neria complained.

"Not if they both washed first," Alyce quipped, perhaps unnecessarily. "Anyhoo, neither of you had any concerns about this? About the poor child being the target of darkspawn? A Blight starting all over again straight after?"

Neria shrugged. "Neither Morrigan or Flemeth had any concerns…" Neria caught Alyce expression and sighed. "Right, shouldn't have trusted that one…stupid me…"

"Well it's done," Alyce echoed Neria's sigh. "And she had this…god child thing," she added, staring once more at the ceiling beams. "Morrigan. So…how dangerous is this creature?"

"Baby, Alyce," Neria corrected her. "And I would hardly call him dangerous, unless you consider being gummed to death 'dangerous'."

"Him…" Alyce mused with a grimace. "The heir to the Ferelden throne is a god baby with no teeth. Has that occurred to you?"

"Which is where," Neria began slowly and deliberately. "You come in."

"No, no, no," Alyce waved a reluctant hand. "I haven't arrived at all. I'm floating somewhere over Gwaren…and I'm not likely to land; due to unfriendly terrain, just so you know…"

"Alyce…"

"Oh-ho…don't you 'Alyce' me," Alyce warned her over a waggling finger. "Don't even think about foisting some poor child on me. I can barely look after myself, much less some…darkspawn baby…thing…"

"He's cute…" Neria told her in a wheedling tone of voice.

"Shut up," Alyce warned her again. "You are not to use my weakness for small, adorable things against me. That isn't playing fair."

"And when have I ever played fair?" Neria prompted her.

Alyce groaned as though struck. "You used to be such a sweet girl! I hate you…and I hate how you've managed to dig yourself into this bloody big hole. You stupid, stupid, stupid mage. I mean what were you thinking, really?"

"Death by Archdemon," Neria replied simply. "The huge responsibility ahead…everyone's expectations…The inevitable destruction of my homeland…How many of my beloved companions were about to die…Bann Teagan in orange tights…"

"And you do realise, don't you," Alyce told her, ignoring the mention of Bann Teagan and his undergarments, "that withholding this child from the King is an act of treason?"

"I'm not withholding him, Alyce. We agreed beforehand that the child would never make a claim for the throne," Neria explained. "Alistair didn't like it, but he agreed. We were also never to contact Morrigan, or try to find her but of course that was when she thought that her mother was dead and wouldn't go…looking for her…Morrigan is still after all, Flemeth's best chance at maintaining her longevity."

"And this child is the king's best chance at maintaining the longevity of the Theirin line," Alyce countered.

"Alistair can still father a child, Alyce…"

"Without magical intervention?" Alyce asked, noting the doubt in Neria's voice. "The kind of intervention the Chantry might get a tad upset over? He needed help with Morrigan, didn't he? What's to say he won't need it again? Not that…I'm going to suggest being the helper…Ever." Neria merely looked at her, without saying anything. Alyce hated that look worse of all. No expression on Neria was a bad, bad thing. "Do I even want to ask how you acquired this child, your witch telling you 'get lost' notwithstanding?"

Neria stared again. Alyce threw up her hands in defeat, feeling as though this conversation had gone on far, far too long and it still felt as though she had learned nothing. She didn't want to be involved. Neria was a friend, but surely this sort of thing went beyond friendship? There had to be a rule somewhere; a line that read do not cross…And if there was, Alyce was sure that Neria had crossed it.

Several times over.

The fire in the grate sputtered and spat, the single log almost spent. Alyce wished she had a bucket of sand she could stick her head into. Today had been a long day; far too long…Templar-almost-confessions-of-love, Knight Commanders, proposals, plum pudding and god babies…Dropping her head into her hands Alyce inhaled slowly and deeply. A complicated life…? I guess I should have been careful what I wished for…

"It's far too late and I'm too…annoyed and tired to make any decisions…" she told Neria. Urgh, and I'm supposed to meet Aunt Mildred in a few hours…Why did I bother waking up this morning? "You can stay here tonight," Alyce suggested. "I have to meet someone tomorrow, but the two of us will feel better with some sleep at our backs. I certainly would, anyhow…Unfolding and rising, Alyce ran a hand through her ruined hair. It was never going to stay looking the way Nettie had arranged it, even if it had been nice to be…pretty for a short while.

"I'll show you to a reasonably clean room," Alyce said passing by. When Neria made no move, she flicked the elf's ear; something Neria absolutely hated.

Neria slapped Alyce's hand from her head. "Anyway," Neria stood, a hint of smugness in the smaller woman's voice that set Alyce's teeth to stone. "Irving thinks it's a good idea; hiding the child in theTower of Magi. What better place to conceal someone like a god baby than surrounded by Templars and Mages?"

Alyce had been halfway to the door. When she turned to stare, she did so with a great deal of intensity. Her mind spinning in several different directions, Alyce struggled mightily with this new, shattering piece of information. When she found her voice, it sounded overloud and shrill.

"What!" she shouted, "You consulted the First Enchanter! Since when was a bleeding MAGE ever to be trusted?"

-oo-

Dagna's stomach growled but she ignored it, marking off this section on her map and moving on. Growing up underground had given her an instinct for finding her way through stone passages and circuitous routes, but it had also taught her to be practical and one of the first things she had done when they had arrived at Castle Cousland was to draw a map of the place – in scale of course – with the help of some friendly castle staff.

She was worried. She had gone by Alyce's room this morning to pick her up for breakfast (Alyce's sense of direction not being as…refined as a dwarf's) and had found the room empty, the bed unslept in. She knew Alyce had gone to the Tremayne's home the previous night. Had something happened? There were few people who could best her mentor, especially when Alyce got angry…Not even a Tower full of Templars would stand a chance. Alyce was just too quick and Dagna was left wondering how a band of roving dwarf mercenaries could have gone unnoticed in Highever, seeing as Dwarves were the only creatures in Ferelden who were immune to Alyce's magic…

She met Ser Hanleigh in the inner courtyard, carrying a plate of pastries. As he handed them to her, he reported that no, he had not seen Enchanter Amell in the breakfast room, but picked these up as searching for the Enchanter might have made her hungry. Dagna smiled gratefully at him, her worry increasing.

"Are there any Templar abilities you can use to find her?" she asked Ser Hanleigh.

The Templar clasped his hands together. "I would have to request her phylactery from Denerim," he said, pink-cheeked. "And I'd rather not. I don't want anyone to think the Enchanter'd gone apostate. Enchanter Amell would never go apostate."

"No, she wouldn't!" Dagna agreed, biting down on a pastry fiercely. "These are good by the way, thank you."

"You're welcome, Miss."

"Dagna."

"Dagna…" Ser Hanleigh drew the word out, enjoying the sound of her name as it emerged in his own voice. "It's pretty. Like you."

Despite her anxiety, Dagna beamed, passing the plate to Ser Hanleigh to share. "I…like your name too," she told him shyly. "Does it mean anything?"

Ser Hanleigh paused mid-bite. "It's actually misspelled," he told her.

Dagna's titian eyebrows rose, impressed. "Really?" she asked.

"I'm actually called 'Handy'," Ser Hanleigh went on, nibbling at a pastry in between. "I'm the only boy in my family, you see. My Mum thought it was pretty handy to have a boy finally, so that's what she named me. The Sister who delivered me misspelled my name on the registration papers." He gave a quick shrug. "So it kind of stuck."

"I…see…" Dagna gulped, remnants of her pastry falling from her fingertips. "That's…" handy…"Anyway, we should…" Her words faded when she spotted a familiar, dark-haired figure cross the other end of the courtyard. Grabbing Ser Handy's arm, she tugged him across to the other side, yelling, "Ser Ryan!"

The individual in question had been in the process of unbuckling his breastplate and the piping voice carrying across the chilly morning stones was a surprise to his sleep-muddied brain. He turned, smiling at Ser Hanleigh and Alyce's young Apprentice.

"Dagmar…isn't it?" Ser Ryan said with a bow.

"Dagna." It was Ser Hanleigh that corrected him.

"And what may I do for you, Apprentice Dagna?" Ser Ryan asked, hiding the smile caused by Ser Hanleigh's sudden but serious study of the space above his left shoulder.

"Oh never mind about that," Dagna waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Have you seen Alyce? She walked a friend home last night, but didn't come back…She didn't…end up with you, did she?" she ended rather hopefully.

Ser Ryan frowned. "No, I've been on duty until only very recently." This caused Dagna to bounce up and down anxiously, chewing on her bottom lip. "Who was the friend?" he asked.

"Your sister, Morwenna" Dagna said. "Ooh, where could she be? I'm quite sure she hasn't slept in her bed…" She looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. "And she didn't take her mage staff with her…"

The trio looked at each other, the gravity of the missing mage increasing. The thought was the same. Alyce Amell out and about without her mage staff to focus her power was a terrifying one. Ser Ryan's gaze rose above the stone tops of the courtyard, beyond the crenellations and spires, slowly scanning the sky. He could see no obvious smoke trails or strange colours on the horizon and if there had been any unusual deaths, injuries or species-reassignment in the last few hours, he would definitely have heard about it on his watch.

"I don't think we should send for her phylactery," Ser Hanleigh said, seeking reassurance from his ex-Tower associate. "Enchanter Amell wouldn't go apostate. But perhaps…" he added with a flash of insight, "owing to the lateness of the evening she decided to stay with the friend overnight."

Ser Ryan gripped the Templar's arm gratefully. "You're probably right, Ser Hanleigh. I'm on my way home now. I'm sure I'll see her there."

"And if you don't?" Dagna asked, feeling the need to ask the question.

"We listen for the screams," Ser Ryan told her.

-oo-