Tada. Chaptah.

I miss my reviews! What happened to my lovely reviewers? Will you ever return?

I hope so! For the sake of Ferelden!

Just kidding, but still. I miss those reviews, guys. Even if the chapter bores you, please let me know. *Insert puppy eyes here*

Avina

"... and then Leliana stabbed him in the kidney," Daylen finishes, making a dramatic stabbing motion and a sound like a dying cow. Avina wrinkles her nose, but can't help but laugh.

They stand in the camp, each of them exhausted from their trip up and down the mountain.

As soon as they returned, those who hadn't been in the group demanded to know what happened. So Daylen told them.

Zevran laughs. "Excellent! Trick him into calming his lizard, then stab him in the back."

Avina rolls her eyes. Daylen may have made up the part about smashing the vial of dragon blood on the ground in front of Kolgrim, but most of his story is true. Kolgrim was rather angry when they came out, and he did attack them.

And Leliana stabbed him in the kidney.

"We'll probably still have to kill that thing," Avina points out. "But I suppose we can do that after we heal the arl."

"It was incredible," Leliana says to Wynne. "There are no words to express..."

"I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place," Alistair murmurs. "But we did."

Avina has proof too, in the little leather pouch of ashes in her pack.

All that is left is to go to Redcliffe, and heal the arl.

Everyone starts heading off to bed or to watch, but Avina knows she isn't ready to sleep yet.

She turns and follows Alistair to his tent.

It's been eating at her since the Guardian, and what he'd said to Alistair. Not only that, but Alistair's reply... it broke her heart. She'd never asked if he wanted to talk about it, and she regrets it now.

He finally notices her. "Oh, is... something on your mind?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about Duncan," she says quietly.

"You don't have to do that," Alistair insists. "I know you didn't know him as long as I did."

Avina shakes her head. "He was like a father to you. I understand."

"I..." his face falls slightly, and he sighs. "Should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen. Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and... everything. I'm sorry."

She lays a hand on his arm. "Everyone needs time to mourn. You don't have to apologize."

"I'd... like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"He had you," Avina tells him.

"I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him."

"It doesn't sound stupid," she assures him. "I understand."

"Of course, I'd be dead then, wouldn't I?" Alistair muses. "It's not like that would make him happier. I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor. I don't know. Have you... had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry; I'm just..."

She remembers her mother, beautiful and poor in the alienage of Denerim as she struggled to keep them both fed. She thinks of her friends in the Circle whose bodies she came across, or had to slay...

"I've lost enough to know what you're going through," she says simply.

He nods. "Yes, I... imagine you really have, haven't you? Thank you. It was good to talk about it with someone close to me. It means a lot."

"If you like, I'll go to highever with you, when you go," she offers.

"I'd like that," he tells her. "So would he, I think."

"Another thing," she says. "I've never asked, what changes? After the Joining?"

"You mean, other than becoming a Grey Warden?"

She shrugs. "You've been a Grey Warden longer than I have."

He appears to think about it. "Hmm. You know, I asked Duncan the same thing, too, and all I got was, 'You'll see.'"

She cocks her head to the side. "He wouldn't tell you?"

"It's not that Duncan wants to keep it a secret," he defends. "It's just that the Grey Wardens don't discuss it much. I gather it's not a pleasant topic. The first change I noticed was an increase in appetite. I used to get up in the middle of the night and raid the castle larder. I thought I was starving. I'd slurp down every dinner like it was my last," he laughs, "my face all covered in gravy. When I'd look up, the other Grey Wardens would stare... then laugh themselves to tears."

Avina raises her eyebrows innocently. "I haven't felt anything like that."

"Really?" Alistair says incredulously. "Because I was watching you wolf down food the other day and I thought, 'It's a good thing she gets a lot of exercise."

Avina sticks her tongue out between grinning teeth as she shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a growing girl."

"I'll say!" he immediately agrees. "Uh... I didn't mean it like that. Heh." She pretends to glare, lifting her fist. "Don't hit me! I bruise easily."

She laughs, lowering her hand.

"Oh... and then there were the nightmares," he continues. "Duncan said it was part of how we sense the darkspawn. We tap into their... well, I don't know what you'd call it. Their 'group mind'. And when we sleep, it's even worse. You learn to block it out after a while, but at first it's hard. It's supposed to be worse for those who Join during a Blight. How is it for you?"

Avina shrugs again. "I'm a mage; I've never exactly had pleasant dreams, but I know what you're talking about. Yes, I've had strange dreams."

"Some people never have much trouble, but that's rare. Others have trouble sleeping their entire life. They're more sensitive, I suppose. Everyone ends up the same, though. Once you reach a certain age, the real nightmares come. That's how a Grey Warden knows his time has come."

Her eyebrows lower. "His time has come?"

"Oh," Alistair muses. "that's right. We never had time to tell you that part, did we? Well, in addition to the other wonderful things about being a Grey Warden, you don't need to worry about dying of old age. You've got thirty years to live. Give or take. The taint... it's a death sentence. Ultimately your body won't be able to take it. When the time comes, Most Grey Wardens go to Orzammar and die in battle rather than... waiting. It's tradition."

"Why Orzammar?" she asks.

"You'll always find darkspawn down where the dwarves are," he explains. "The oldest Grey Wardens head to the Deep Roads for one last glorious battle. Not that there's a shortage of darkspawn during a Blight, but that's the tradition. The dwarves respect us for it. And you wondered why we kept the Joining a secret from the new recruits. There you have it."

She shakes her head. "I never wonder that. I understand."

Alistair sighs, his eyes getting a far away look in them. "You know, Duncan... he started having the nightmares again. He told me that - in private. He said it wouldn't be long before he'd go to Orzammar himself. I guess he got what he wanted. I just wish it had been something worthy of him."

She places a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He will be remembered, Alistair. As will the others."

He sighs again. "I know. Ending the Blight... should make this all worthwhile, right?"

He turns away, as if expecting her to leave.

She flops down onto the ground next to where he sits, crossing her legs and leaning back on her arms. "Will you tell me about them? The other Grey Wardens?"

Alistair smiles for a moment. "I didn't know them for very long, but I guess it was longer than you. You never met them all, did you?"

She shakes her head. "I only met you and Duncan."

"They were quite a group," he recalls. "Actually, they felt like and extended family, since we were all cut off from our former lives. We also laughed more than you'd think. There was this one time..." he pauses. "Well, you probably don't want to hear stories about men you didn't know."

She shakes her head again. "No, I'd like to hear about them."

He grins at the look on her face; a look of sheer interest in what he has to say.

No one ever looked at him like that.

"There was this one Grey Warden who came all the way from the Anderfels. What was his name? Gregor? Grigor? He was a burly man with the biggest, fuzziest beard you've ever seen. And the man could drink. He drank all the time, but he never got drunk. Finally, we all made a pool to see just how many pints it would take to put him under the table."

"It sounds like you had a lot of fun."

"Sometimes," he agrees. "We were kin, of a sort. All of us had gone through the Joining, so we knew... anyhow, it doesn't have to be deadly serious all the time. Anyhow, we never did find out. He said he'd drink a pint for every half-pint that the rest of us drank. He was still going by the time the rest of us were passed out! I'm told that Duncan walked in later on and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregor still drinking. Duncan laughed until he nearly..." he stops. "until..."

"I'm sorry," she tells him. "I know this must be hard for you."

"Yes, I..." he swallows. "I suppose so. I thought I was done with this, but... it just struck me that I have nothing to remember Duncan by. Nothing at all. There's no body, not even a token of his that I could... take with me. That must... sound really stupid to you."

"No, it's not stupid."

"I just would have liked something of his to take with me, that's all." He stands, stretching. "Well, there's no use in moaning about it, is there? He's gone. I'm... going to bed now."

Her heart aches.

There is no question in her mind now.

She is lost.

She loves him.

Alistair

He doesn't know why, but he likes Zevran even less when he wakes to find him fussing over and shining a pair of new leather boots.

He wasn't wearing those yesterday.

Hmph.

What makes it worse, is how Zevran chatters with Avina the entire way back to Redcliffe. Nonstop, from Antivan politics to Ferelden weather.

But he isn't jealous.

Not even a little.

Everyone moves out of their way when Avina bursts through the doors, the tiny pouch at the ready in her hands.

Isolde practically cries with relief, and Teagan is hot on their heels on their way to the arl's room.

Alistair doesn't even have time to note how much grey has gotten into his beard since he last saw him - Avina is quickly blocking his view. One of the healers tilt's his head back, opening his mouth.

Avina pours the small bit of ashes in.

The other healers swoop in, washing it down with a healing potion and sending waves of magic into his chest.

For a moment, there is nothing. Everyone holds their breath.

Purple light emanates from his body, returning color to his skin, and his lungs fill with a breath of air.

The arl's eyes slowly open. "Wh-where am I?"

The air of dread disperses, replaced with relief as Isolde falls, sobbing, onto her husband and half the people in the room cheer.

"This is most troubling."

Arl Eamon turns from the fire in the main hall to face the Wardens. "There is much to be done, that is true. But I should first be thankful to those who have done so much. Grey Wardens, you have not only saved my life, but kept my family safe as well. I am in your debt. Will you permit me to offer you a reward for your service?"

Daylen and Avina exchange a glance.

It's almost weird between those two now, Alistair thinks. Being all leader-y with their silent communication. He wishes he could do that.

Daylen looks as if he's going to speak, but Avina cuts him off. "We need your help against the Blight. That will do."

Arl Eamon nods. "I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of reward. I would like to honor your efforts, nothing more."

Avina bows her head. "As you wish, then."

"Then allow me to declare you and those travelling with you champions of Redcliffe. You will always be a welcome guest within these halls."

He picks up a shield from a nearby table, presenting it to Avina. "And for you, young Warden, a shield of the same make as those that have been given to our finest knights."

She flashes him a grin. "Forgive me, my arl, but I don't think I'm as strong as you may think."

Arl Eamon chuckles. "I suppose."

"I would feel much safer were this shield given to Alistair," she suggests.

"Very well," he says, and hands the shield to Alistair, who gives her a proud look.

"Thank you, your grace," Avina tells him, giving a slight curtsy.

"We should speak of Loghain, brother," Teagan says. "There is no telling what he will do once he learns of your recovery."

"Loghain instigates a civil war even though the darkspawn are on our very doorstep. Long I have known him. He is a sensible man; one who never desired power."

"I was there when he announced he was taking over the throne, Eamon," Teagan argues. "He is mad with ambition, I tell you."

"Mad, indeed," Eamon says sadly. "Mad enough to kill Cailan, to attempt to kill myself and destroy my lands. Whatever happened to him, Loghain must be stopped. What's more, we can scarce afford to fight this war to it's bitter end."

"But you can unite the nobility against Loghain," Daylen protests. "Can't you?"

"I could unite those opposed to Loghain, yes. But not all opposed him. He has some very powerful allies. We have no time to wage a campaign against him. Someone must surrender if Ferelden is to have any chance at fighting the darkspawn."

"But once everyone learns what he's done..." Avina trails off.

Eamon nods. "I will spread word of Loghain's treachery, both here and against the king. But it will be but a claim made without proof. Those claims will give Loghain's allies pause, but we must combine it with a challenge Loghain cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than Loghain's daughter, the queen."

Teagan turns. "Are you referring to Alistair, Brother? Are you certain?"

Wait, what? They want him to be king?!

Bad idea, bad idea.

"I would not propose such a thing if we had an alternative," Eamon says grimly. "But the unthinkable has occurred."

Avina makes a shocked sound, taking a step forward. "You intend to put Alistair forward as king?"

"Teagan and I have a claim through marriage," Eamon explains. "But we would seem opportunists, no better than Loghain. Alistair's claim is by blood."

"What about me?" Alistair demands. "Does anyone care what I want?"

For a moment, Avina looks back at him.

He can't name the look she gives him, and she quickly looks away. But he can't help but feel that she isn't very happy with this, either.

"You have a responsibility, Alistair," Eamon says seriously. "Without you, Loghain wins. I would have to support him, for the good of Ferelden. Is that what you want."

Alistair flounders around in his head, but there's nothing he can say. "I... but I... no, my lord."

A touch on his hand startles him for a moment, then he realizes it's only Avina. She's reached back to lace their fingers together. To remind him he is not alone.

He grips her hand tightly, grateful beyond measure that she is here with him.

"I see only one way to proceed," Eamon continues. "I will call for a Landsmeet, a gathering of all of Ferelden's nobility in the city of Denerim. There, Ferelden can decide who shall rule, one way or another. Then the business of fighting our true foe can begin. What say you to that, my friends? I do not wish to proceed without your blessing."

Avina doesn't raise her head.

"I say we proceed with your plan," Daylen agrees.

"Very well," Eamon acknowledges. "I will send out the word. But before we proceed, I believe there is the matter of the mage... my son's tutor. He still lives, I understand."

"He does," Teagan confirms. "He is in the dungeon, Brother."

Eamon nods. "Have him brought here, Teagan. I wish to see him."

Avina

Though she reached out to give Alistair comfort, she holds his hand like a lifeline as she waits for her friend to be brought up from the dungeon.

When he arrives, he isn't chained, but there is a guard on each side of him and he looks more weak and haggard than ever.

"Jowan," Eamon says. "What you have done is not in question. You tried to assassinate me and set into motion a series of events that nearly destroyed everything I cherish. What have you to say in your own defense?"

Jowan looks utterly defeated. "Nothing, my lord... Other than to say I am sorry. I expect no mercy for what I have done."

"I see. Grey Wardens, have you anything to say on Jowan's behalf?"

"He was my friend," Avina admits. "He was a good man. I'm not so sure about the recent past, but I believe he is earnest in his desire to repent."

"Well said," Eamon compliments. "You show more loyalty, perhaps, than he would in your shoes. And what would you have me do? As the injured party, my ability to see the merciful path is... strained."

"Let him help," Avina pleads. "He wants to atone. Let him help the people who need it. We would benefit from another mage."

Eamon shakes his head. "I cannot do that. He is a criminal and a maleficar."

"You condemn him for being naive!" Daylen protests.

Eamon's eyes narrow. "That is quite enough. If you have nothing else to add...?"

"Give him to the Circle of Magi," Daylen suddenly blurts.

Avina gapes at him.

His fate will be no better there; they'll likely execute him... or immediately make him tranquil.

But Daylen wasn't one to let an advantage slip. So she stayed silent.

"Fair enough," the arl says. "And wisely said. Jowan. I hereby turn you over to the Circle of Magi."

"Thank you, my lord," Jowan says quietly.

Daylen nudges Avina. "They'll send him back to the dungeon, then have Templars escort him back to the tower where they'll likely execute him. Now would be your chance to say goodbye."

She releases Alistair's hand and rushes forward into her surrogate brother's arms.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"For what?"

"I couldn't save you."

He chuckles. "I condemned myself. Some things have to be beyond you." He pats her back soothingly, as if he isn't the one about to be sent to die. "You did more than most would."

"I should have sent you away," she laments. "Back when I found you. I should have told you to run away."

"I told you I was tired of running."

"You would have lived."

"Stop blaming yourself," he commands, pulling back to look at her.

The guards nod to each other, and they lead Jowan away.

Avina collapses into a heap on the floor, sobbing into her hands.

Daylen

"We need to use the treaties," Daylen says, taking a swig of ale as they sit in the dining hall.

Avina's eyes are puffy and red. "Which should we go for first?"

This is where there's an issue.

"Both," he says simply.

Her brow furrows, as does Alistair's. "What do you mean?"

"I'm suggesting that one of us go to Orzammar for the dwarves, while the other goes to the Brecilian Forest for the Dalish."

"Do you really think splitting up is a good idea at this point?" Alistair asks.

Daylen crosses his arms. "There may be safety in numbers, but fewer are stealthier. Why would we need half an army to gather allies, anyhow?"

"Half an army?" Avina huffs.

Daylen grins. "I'd say Sten and Shale alone count as half an army."

At this, she laughs. "True."

"Now, we just need to decide who will be going where."

"I'd like to see the elves," Avina volunteers, a sparkle in her eye. "I studied their language at the Circle - I'd like to-"

"Then I'll go to Orzammar," Daylen finishes. "Who do you want to take with you?"

"Alistair," she blurts, then flushes. "I - I mean... uh..."

"Oh, good," Daylen says. "That gives me an excuse to bring Morrigan."

Alistair makes a gagging noise.

"Griffon will go with you, so I guess I'd like Shale to come with me," Daylen decides.

"I'd like to bring Zevran with me," Avina responds. Alistair scowls; Daylen bites his cheek to keep from grinning.

"Then I'll take Leliana."

"You should bring Wynne," Avina suggests. "You should always have a healer on hand."

"True," Daylen agrees. "And Sten will go with you."

"Okay," Avina replies. "Sounds like a plan."

Avina awakens the next morning to someone pounding on her door.

She practically flies out of bed, still in her nightgown, fearing the worst and she yanks the door open to see Alistair.

"Alistair! What -" she starts.

"Avina," he stops her. "Last night, someone broke into Jowan's cell. Either he's dead, or he escaped."

Zevran

A few rooms over, Zevran sits in front of his fireplace, shining his leather boots with a knowing smirk.

They should really see about changing those cell locks.

Avina

"Hold, outsider," the Dalish hunter says as they approach the forest. She and her companions block the way inside, preventing them from entering the Dalish camp. "You may be of my kind, but you are not Dalish. Why are you here?"

"I would like to speak with your keeper," Avina tells her.

The huntress narrows her eyes. "And why is that?"

Avina squares her shoulders, her spine straightening. "I am a Grey Warden."

"That is not a lie many would attempt," the huntress comments. "I will bring you to the keeper, then, and he can decide if your business is worthwhile."

The huntress brings them to a bald elf whose brow is creased with worry and concentration, as if he is performing a dangerous task.

"Hmm," he says as they approach. His voice is deep, and carries authority. "I see we have guests."

Griffon snarls at him, barking in warning. Avina hushes him.

"And a hound amongst them," the keeper scoffs. "As if we haven't had enough trouble with such creatures. Who are these strangers, Mithra? I have precious little patience and less time to spend on outsiders today."

The huntress, Mithra is her name then. "This one claims to be a Grey Warden and wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave the decision to you."

"That was wise of you," the keeper compliments. "Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post."

Mithra nods. "Ma nuvenin, Keeper." She and her fellow hunters walk away.

"Now, allow me to introduce myself," the keeper says. "I am Zathrian, the keeper of this clan, and it's guide and preserver of ancient lore. And you are?"

Avina smiles. "Andaran atish'an, Zathrian. I am Avina Surana of the Grey Wardens."

"Such manners," Zathrian notes. "But if you came to bring news of the Blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed it's corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not."

Alistair gives a half-smile. "Yes, it seems like you have your own troubles. What are the odds?"

"I imagine you are here regarding the treaty we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some... explanation. Please follow me."

Alistair

Alistair sighs. Really, nothing is ever simple, is it? They can never just recieve aid, end the Blight, done, thank you, the end.

Instead, every stop is a peril.

Alistair briefly wonders if Daylen fares any better, but then again the dwarven merchant they ran into claimed it was closed off. That didn't sound like a good sign.

Avina is sitting around a fire with the Dalish children, telling them about her life and singing to them.

This hurts.

Alistair never thought about it before, but because of his being a Grey Warden, he'll likely not be able to have children. Especially not with another Grey Warden.

As he watches Avina with the children surrounding her, he realizes that he wants that.

With her.

One of the little girls tugs on her skirts, holding up a hand with something green in it. Avina laughs, and takes the grass crown, setting it upon her head.

Not too far in the future, Alistair will have a crown of his own if Eamon has his way, and it worries him.

True, he believes he could be a good ruler, but that's not the entirety of the problem.

When he becomes king, he must take a wife and have an heir.

Elves are not accepted as nobility, let alone as queens. Especially not mages.

Which means he and Avina will only be together for a short while. He will not be able to be with her once he is king.

This scares him more than anything.

He has so much he wants to give her, so much he wants to share with her. He knows now that if he had the chance, he'd marry her in a heartbeat, build her a house, and give her lots of beautiful, healthy children. Because he loves her.

He loves her and he wishes he could give her everything.

At that moment, she looks up at him, and smiles. She has a daisy in her hair, and the little girl on her knee.

Curious, he moves forward to listen in.

"I learned it from the Circle," she says to the kids.

"How does a circle know Elvish?" the girl on her knee asks. "Do shapes know things?"

She laughs. "That's the name of the tower I lived in. And they have lots of books there."

"I only know some because Mamae sings it to me when I go to sleep."

"I don't know any lullabies," Avina admits. "I'll tell you what; I'll teach you one of my songs, if you teach me your lullaby."

"Okay!" the group chimes.

Avina clears her throat, and begins:

"Heruamin lotirien
Alai uethri maeria
Halurocon yalei nam bahna
Dolin nereba maome

Ame amin
Halai lothi amin
Aloamin Heruamin

Heruamin oh lonai
Imwe naine beriole

Ame amin
Halai lothi amin
Aloamin Heruamin

Ame amin
Halai lothi amin
Noamin

Ame amin
Halai lothi amin
Noamin Heruamin."

The children clap excitedly, and Alistair joins in. She grins up at him, and he smiles warmly back.

And suddenly, he is infinitely glad that they split up with half the group.

Morrigan

Daylen does not go straight to the mountains like everyone expected him to.

Instead, he goes past Lothering. Around Ostagar.

He is going to Flemeth's hut.

They set up camp just before they reach it. It's cold, but Daylen is warm.

She lies awake as he slumbers beside her, his face slack and so ridiculously adorable that she's angry at herself for thinking it cute.

She can't help but admire him when he's like this. His dark lashes resting on his cheeks, his jaw relaxed, his hair ruffled.

She knows that he cares for her; cares for her more than he should. She has a job to do, after all. They all do.

But she cares for him. More than she should.

He is on a mission, one to save the country and possibly all of Thedas, but he puts it on hold? For her? For a task of killing an abomination several hundreds of years old?

And he didn't even have to think about it.

It's confounding.

But she can't help but be touched by his dedication.

He's a fool. And it's completely unfair that it makes her mission that much more difficult.

Tel'abelas.

Next chapter: Victory and Sacrifice