Updating madly while FF is miraculously up for a few minutes! Two years ago today, I posted my first chapter of my first story - and they've been two amazing years. Thanks so much to all of you who have supported and encouraged me along the way. Particular thanks to littleblackdog, who inspired me to write the chapter in the first place and was my very first reviewer, and to serenbach, whose reviews to No Armor Against Fate encouraged me to keep posting.

The ideas in this chapter aren't canon, but they're the way I always thought the taint should work, so I'm going with it for this storyline.

Thora woke with a sudden gasp, and lay quietly for a moment taking stock. No new tug inside, no song, no new patches of taint itching on her skin. Another day.

Some mornings when she woke and realized it wasn't here yet she was elated; other mornings she felt a faint disappointment, a frustration with the waiting, with never knowing how much longer she had. She rolled carefully onto her side to avoid disturbing Alistair, and her eyes moved over his body, looking for taint that hadn't been there yesterday. Her relief at seeing nothing was unmitigated—her own Calling was a maddeningly vague cloud in her future, but his was a threatening storm cloud, waiting to break over her in all its anguish. Why that should be, she wasn't sure. They had agreed long ago that one Calling was both, they wouldn't be separated again until the final blow came, far into the Deep Roads. But still … she didn't want to see Alistair have to suffer.

He stirred, stretching slowly. And then he sat up, his eyes opening and blinking rapidly, staring into space in a panic. Thora watched, her heart in her throat, until his shoulders relaxed.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. Again. You?"

"Nothing."

"Well, that's a relief." He turned and grinned at her. "Another day for us, then. What should we do with it?"

"I have some ideas."

"Mm. I wonder if I can guess what they are." In what seemed a single swift movement, Alistair rolled over and pinned her beneath his body, his familiar warm mouth covering hers. When she was melting bonelessly into the mattress, he lifted his head, his face flushed as he looked down at her. "I will never get used to that, as long as I live, that you're here and mine and I can just reach for you that way. Every extra day with you is a miracle."

"Alistair."

"What?"

For answer, she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth back down to hers, kissing him deeply.

Alistair pulled back so he could touch her body, cupping her still-firm breasts in his hands, unable to get enough of the way she looked as she bit her lip and threw her head back under his touch. Her red hair was shot through with grey now, and he could see lines in her face that hadn't been there before, but she was still as beautiful as the day he'd met her.

Her legs had parted beneath the covers. Alistair eased over onto his back, bringing her with him so she was straddling his stomach. His fingers stroked the backs of her thighs, his big hands cupping her rear as he gently but firmly pulled her into place. Thora wriggled against his length, her eyes closing with the heat of it. Alistair pressed up against her, feeling her small, calloused, capable hands close around his erection and position him. She sank down onto him, the familiar movements as intoxicating as they had always been. Maker, she was beautiful. He was, and always had been, a lucky man.

Gripping her hips, Alistair slowed her rhythm, wanting to make this last as long as he could. Every time might be the last morning they could wake up like this, the last time they could make love in their own bed, the last … The climax took him, stiffening his body as he thrust up into her, hearing her answering cries.

When it was done and their bodies had come apart, she lay across his chest, pressing her face against his shoulder. Alistair felt no particular need to move; there was certainly nowhere else he had to be.

Mindful of the Calling looming ahead of him, he had stepped down from the throne of Ferelden six years ago, abdicating in favor of his son Duncan. Alistair and Thora had been sure their Callings were just around the corner—it had, at that point, been thirty years since Alistair's Joining, and almost thirty since Thora's. But the days kept coming and going and there was no sign in either of them that the Calling was imminent. Anders had gone; Xandros and Nathaniel Howe and most of Thora's other recruits from those early years. But Thora herself remained untouched, as did Oghren and Sigrun. They speculated that the dwarves of Orzammar ingested miniscule amounts of taint on a regular basis, tracked in by those who went on expeditions into the Deep Roads, seeping in with the water, permeating the very Stone itself, and that kept the taint from moving as quickly within them. Alistair's delayed Calling seemed likely to have come from his mother, but despite Anawyn and Fiona having worked together on the topic at Weisshaupt for nearly ten years, no one was certain what course the taint took if you were born with it.

As so few Wardens produced children, Anawyn herself had been the best subject for study. Shortly after she'd undergone the official Joining at the age of eighteen, Anawyn had been called to Weisshaupt. Her letters were filled with news of her grandmother and of the work they were doing there. Alistair and Thora had held their breath as Anawyn's thirtieth birthday had come and gone, but she showed no sign of a Calling, either. Fiona had speculated Anawyn's Calling would come in thirty years after her Joining, but didn't really know. Fiona had retired to somewhere in Orlais four years ago, and Anawyn had been named First Warden shortly thereafter. Alistair and Thora had been there for the ceremony, filled with pride at the achievements of their daughter.

They'd had the chance to meet Anawyn's long-time lover, a Nevarran named Gretsch, and to be there for the birth of their granddaughter, Minna, and had come home confident that their daughter was happy and well-loved. Duncan had married shortly after acceding to the throne, choosing Fergus Cousland's youngest, Eleanor, as his bride. She was a good queen, balancing out Duncan's impulsiveness with a very thoughtful approach to governing. Together they were a formidable pair. Their marriage was proving a fruitful one—in five years Eleanor had borne two sons, Maric and Bryce, and was showing signs of a third child on the way.

Morrigan and Cybele had disappeared completely after accompanying Xandros to his Calling. Neither Anawyn nor Alistair had heard a word from Cybele since that day. Two powerful apostates melting away into the woods. Alistair would have been lying to say he wasn't nervous about it; he'd never trusted Morrigan, and despite her clear devotion to their daughter, he still thought there was a chance Morrigan had her own interests far more at heart than anyone else's. But there was little question that neither he nor Thora was able to go after her themselves. Age had slowed their reflexes, and the wear and tear of a fighting lifestyle had taken its toll on muscles and joints. They had few illusions about how long they would survive in the Deep Roads, and that length of time was growing shorter the longer their Calling was delayed.

The thought reminded him. "Sparring today?"

"Think you can take me, old man?"

"You're older than I am."

"Yes, and in far better shape."

"Oh, we'll just see about that." Alistair climbed out of bed, ignoring the way his knees popped. Thora didn't, however, and her laughter followed him as he began to get dressed. Outside the window, the sun was shining on another day he got to share with the love of his life. He thought back to that long-ago day at the tournament when Duncan had conscripted him and a door had opened in the unremitting gloom that was his life to that point. He'd had no idea what a world of richness was opening up for him. His life had had its sorrows, but so much of it had been filled with joy.

"Race you to the training ring." Her voice broke into his thoughts, and he smiled. Just this once, maybe he'd let her win.