A/N: I started this story for this year's NaNoWriMo, using my canon save from the game as my outline. The M rating is mostly for language. As always, Bioware owns everything; I'm merely playing in their sandbox. Okay seriously, I know how I came across the first half of this chapter, but the second half just kind of wrote itself, silliness and all. But, it sounds like a story Alistair would tell, so I'm going to let it stay as it is. :p


"I once dreamed that Loghain brought me a barrel of cheese.
I opened it up, and there were mice inside. Made of cheese.
Which we ate while singing sea chanteys.
Are you saying this held some deeper meaning?"

"Lady Elissa, if you stop us like this one more time, the Landsmeet will be over before we even reach Denerim!"

The warden rolled her eyes where she had stopped her horse a short distance ahead of the arl's entourage. "Yes, Eamon," she called back dryly. "Which is exactly why we've managed to get a party of this size almost to South Reach in barely more than a week. That includes evading all but three bands of darkspawn in spite of the fact that we've crossed directly through the bulk of the horde. Now be quiet so I can hear what's ahead."

Glancing skyward she spied a great raven circling just a short distance away; what little sunlight managed to penetrate the roiling cloud cover reflected a violet sheen off the bird's wings as it slowly spiraled toward a nearby hill. The fact that Morrigan was a witch was not only well known, but more or less well tolerated by Eamon's soldiers and servants as well; in spite of this she still chose distant and out of sight locations to change form before and after scouting the terrain ahead.

Elissa caught Alistair's attention and gestured toward the hill where Morrigan had just landed. He nodded to confirm that he'd keep a watch over everyone travelling with them, so she rode ahead to meet her friend. The witch had become oddly protective of her since their conversation in Redcliffe. Any time Elissa tried to broach the topic again Morrigan would change the subject in any way she could—including one time changing into a small swarm of bees and flying out the open window.

The Warden climbed the hill carefully now to meet her. "How are things up ahead?" she asked, dismounting as she closed the gap between them.

"Quiet, for the most part," Morrigan replied as she preened the feathers of the single spaulder she wore on her left shoulder. "I spoke to the arl at the fortress ahead—Bryland, his name was? He has opened his doors to us for the night, and will join us when we leave again in the morning."

"I'll let Eamon know, so that at least some of his men can sleep indoors for a night. The rest of us should probably camp, though; there's no sense in everyone crowding in, and doing so will just make it take longer to leave tomorrow."

Morrigan raised one eyebrow. "And this has nothing to do with the fact that Arl Eamon expects that you and Alistair not share rooms publicly, I presume."

"Yes, well, Eamon can expect whatever he wants," Elissa snorted. "That doesn't mean he's going to get it. So far as whatever status as a noblewoman I may still hold in spite of being a Grey Warden, my brother technically has authority over me, not Eamon. If Fergus has no objections, then the good arl can shove his opinions up his ass."

Laughing at the imagery, the witch shook her head. "I understand the politics of your engagement, but even after all this time I still do not see the appeal he holds for you," she admitted after a bit. "Does his company not grow tiresome?"

"Morrigan," Elissa began, smirking, "has Leliana been trying to teach you how to gossip, of all things?"

"I should think if that were the case, I'd be a fair bit more skilled," she huffed indignantly. "I wish merely to understand. Your relationship, particularly how it influences your actions, will very likely change the shape of the entire world. You helped to free me from Flemeth, Elissa, but because of that I am no longer certain what my place in this world should be. If I am to live in such a world, I feel I should know what motivations will be shaping it."

"That's fair, I suppose," the Warden conceded. "And it's at least a better argument for questioning us than Wynne's ever presented. If we win the Landsmeet, and survive the battle, Alistair and I will take our places in Denerim."

"So you will abandon your duty to the Wardens?"

"I… never thought about it in those exact terms, but I suppose we'll have to. Alistair certainly won't be permitted to continue to serve once he's been crowned. But once the archdemon is killed, the majority of our duty as Wardens will have expired regardless. If I'm able, then once everything else is settled I'll probably see about rebuilding the Order locally. Once that's done and I've trained a replacement, I'll be able to return to the palace and maybe even pretend to be normal again."

Morrigan watched her quietly for a few moments, considering her answer. "You assume that you will be designated commander once the Blight is done?"

"This is all based on your assurances that you have a loophole that keeps Alistair and I both alive, of course, but yes. If either of us can become the first Grey Warden in history to survive an archdemon's death, then I doubt the other Wardens will stop to question it if I continue to give the orders here." Elissa paused, studying the witch carefully. "Speaking of that loophole, I've gladly stopped drinking Wynne's teas, but I wish you'd tell me more about this ritual that's going to save us all—especially since it seems like it's going to result in me going to battle while pregnant. Somehow I doubt Urthemiel is going to be understanding if I need to run off in the middle of an epic duel to be violently sick."

"You'll learn what you need to when you need to, now come here," Morrigan ordered, and Elissa obeyed with a sigh while her friend lay one hand to her belly as she mentally probed for any sign of life within the younger woman. This was the third such examination Morrigan had subjected her to in the past week, and each time the witch seemed more and more troubled.

"Are you sure that you and Alistair know how these things work?" the witch demanded irritably. "It certainly sounds most nights like you understand; even in spite of your taint, with your habits you should have been with child months ago."

"Well unless you have any recommendations-"

Morrigan made a slightly disgusted noise as she waved Elissa away. "Just deliver South Reach's message and return to your fool. Surely the two of you will figure things out sooner rather than later." The air around Morrigan distorted as she began the spells to change her form back to that of the raven. "I'll return by morning, so make certain whomever is on watch knows to expect me. In the meantime I'm going to scout as far north as I can manage tonight; with luck I'll have news from Denerim when I return."

"Be careful," Elissa called after her as the witch winged off without acknowledging the Warden further.

Their entourage arrived at South Reach shortly before dusk, and once Elissa was certain that everything was settled for their camp she set out in search of her other companions. Both Wardens had been stuck with Eamon the majority of the trip, and as such she'd barely spoken to anyone since leaving Redcliffe. It didn't take long to find Sten training with Redcliffe's knights; likewise Zevran and Oghren were found gambling and drinking with some of the arl's other soldiers. Wynne had long since retired to Arl Bryland's castle, but Leliana had all but vanished. When she finally asked after the bard she learned that the Orlesian had gone to the castle to check on Wynne.

Sighing, she started back toward the tent she shared with Alistair. She'd sworn to Morrigan that she'd not discuss with the others what she knew about the death of an archdemon or what little she'd been able to guess about the witch's ritual, and at the same time she was forced to swear that she'd produce an heir as quickly as possible. Elissa couldn't fathom what carrying a child might have to do with surviving the soul-blending that Morrigan had described, but then again she wasn't going to argue either; she never really assumed she'd be the motherly sort, but if she was going to be queen then it would be simplest to get such things out of the way earlier than later. Not being able to talk to anyone about it all was really a small irritation, but it was an irritation nonetheless.

"You could be on the moon, for as much attention as you're paying things."

Elissa smiled as she turned to find Alistair coming to join her from the direction of the makeshift kitchens elsewhere in the camp. He hadn't startled her, precisely, but for him to get as close as he did before giving his presence away told her that she probably should be paying closer attention to her surroundings. "And what would you know about the moon, hm?"

"Oh, the moon's the second thing they teach you about at Templar School," he began with a grin, passing her a small sack of food as they walked. "Right after they teach you about witches who turn you into toads they start lessons about the moon. Did you know it's a solid ball of cheese?"

"The moon is a ball of cheese?" she repeated, to which he nodded earnestly.

"Oh yes, absolutely. According to philosophers, there wasn't a moon before the first Blight. The Maker put it there to punish mortals; it's a paradise we can never reach."

She couldn't help but to laugh. "Are you sure aren't confusing the moon with the Black City in the Fade?"

Alistair made a shocked little noise and held one hand over his heart as if wounded. "You sound like Morrigan," he pouted. "Say what you want, but I know my lessons. You see, the Maker realized after throwing all the magisters out of the Black City that just because it was mages that technically ruined things for everyone else, there were probably non-mages involved in their plot as well."

"What's that got to do with the moon?"

"I'm getting to that part! As you know, only mages can get to the Fade normally, meaning that only mages could see the paradise their actions had lost them, forever beyond their reach. But since not everyone involved was a mage, the Maker realized He had to create a similar paradise that the rest of us could see, so that everyone else involved was likewise punished. So He created the moon out of cheese and placed it high in the sky where no one could reach it."

"What sort?"

"What?"

"What sort of cheese is it? I find it hard to believe that your lessons went into so much detail without mentioning if it's cheddar, or brie, or some other variety," she grinned as they reached the tent and ducked inside for the night.