Til Death or Darkspawn Do Us Part

Part 1 – Truth or Dare, Revisited

How does one tell her baby's father that their unborn child might be some sort of supernatural demon-dragon-darkspawn thing? Who really understood what this "old god's soul" was about? I could only testify to what I'd seen for myself—the archdemon, supposedly the old god of beauty, in its hideous form and with violent, malevolent power.

Was that the soul my child absorbed? No. I refused to accept that my son would someday turn into something so monstrous it defied description. Morrigan said he'd received the uncorrupted soul, as it was before the darkspawn got to it and twisted it. If he would be immortal and immune to the taint, would he also be incorruptible? As always, I had many questions and few answers.

I summoned my courage to tell the man I loved an unbelievable tale of magic, rituals, and soul transference. He might think me insane when I was done relating what I'd learned from the witch. Regardless, before we could go further in our relationship, Teagan had to be told the truth. I asked him to take a walk with me by the lake, and in that placid setting I recounted my story.

When I'd finished, he was quiet a while, assimilating the crazy things I'd just told him. Finally he said, "Assuming for the sake of argument everything the witch said is true, our child will be immortal. He'll have powers of some kind. I gather, since she's hell-bent on taking him, he must be taught to use his powers. This Morrigan woman sees herself as his mentor?"

"It seems so."

"But he's not a mage? He's not like Connor, correct?"

"That's my understanding. And since there are no mages in my family line or yours, he'll be just a normal little boy. No magic, no setting fires to the village, no making the lake boil."

"Then, dearest, what's the problem? We can raise him with our values, and he'll grow into a fine gentleman who will be able to discern how—and if—he should use whatever powers he will have. If the witch was telling you the truth about any of this. Now, about my proposal—"

"That's it? That's your reaction to the whole story?"

"Of course, my love. What did you expect me to do? Run away in terror? You've got me all wrong if you think you can scare me off so easily."

We walked hand in hand toward the house. "So you're still of a mind to get married?"

He stopped walking and turned to me. A light breeze came off the lake and it blew my hair across my face. He brushed it aside with gentle fingers and cupped my cheek. "Winter MacEwan, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

"I will," I answered.

"At last," he said with mock exasperation. "I've been chasing you for months." He took my face in his hands and brought his lips to mine.

The baby gave the strongest kick I'd felt thus far. I murmured, "Our baby approves. He's dancing in there."

"Might I feel it?" He placed a hand on my tummy. I guided it to where the thumping was, and our son obliged his father by kicking and tumbling about. "Maker's breath…" Teagan whispered in awe. He put both hands on my belly and waited for more movement. He wasn't disappointed.

"Let's have the ceremony right away," he suggested. "Unless you've got your heart set on a large gathering. The people of the bannorn will want to attend, and I can't very well deny them after the support they've shown me over the years."

"Arrange it whenever you wish," I said. "Tomorrow, next week, next month…"

"Tomorrow afternoon," he answered. "I'll send the steward to speak with the revered mother and we'll have this done before you decide to go charging off on another adventure."

"I'm not going anywhere in my condition."

We expected a small group of attendees, but everyone in the bannorn was packed into the small chantry when we arrived. The morning after the wedding we found all kinds of gifts on the front porch—wedding gifts from the people of Redcliffe who hadn't been able to attend. Teagan was a much-loved arl. Mort important to him, he was a much-loved husband.

"Majesty, it's most unwise for you to stay here in harm's way," Eamon cautioned. "Since the new warden-commander is on his way back by now, I strongly urge you to return to Denerim. The country needs you more than the Vigil does, if I may say so."

"You're right," Alistair said. "I do miss the action, but this isn't my job any more. Aiden will make a fine warden-commander. With Winter's pregnancy, I don't foresee her returning to duty. His appointment could be a permanent one."

"As you wish," Eamon said. He agreed with everything the king had said. Fighting darkspawn was the wardens' job. Aiden would make a good commander, and Winter certainly had no place among the warriors any longer. For Teagan's sake, as much as for hers and their child's, he hoped she had sense enough to stay in Redcliffe.

"Go back to Denerim," Alistair said. "I'll catch up with you in a few days. I have a little side trip to make first."

"If I may ask, Sire, where are you going? Shouldn't I be with you?"

"No, I need you at the palace. Taking travel time into consideration, I shouldn't be more than a week behind you."

"Where—"

"Redcliffe, if you must know," Alistair answered, growing impatient with his chancellor's nagging. He hadn't yet gotten used to having someone keep tabs on his every move. In time he'd learn it was necessary, and that Eamon was doing what was expected of him. But he just wanted a bit of the old freedom he used to enjoy.

Eamon looked… what was it… startled? "Redcliffe? Whatever for?"

"If you must know every damn step I take, Eamon, I want to check on Winter. She left here right after sustaining an injury. She's my friend. I want to see that she made it there safely."

"Majesty, surely we would have heard if anything happened—"

"Enough! I'm going to Redcliffe, and you're going to Denerim. If there's any business that needs tending to, then tend to it. I'll be there when I get there. Is that clear enough for you?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Eamon bowed. This was what he'd been dreading for months. Alistair was going to find out that Teagan fathered Winter's baby, and he would be devastated. Or worse, he'd be angry with Teagan over an erroneously presumed offense. The king was a stubborn fellow and wouldn't be deterred from his course. Eamon had run interference for as long as he could.

Alistair had his horse brought round and he made ready to leave for Redcliffe. His company of four guards stood by their mounts waiting for him to give the order to move out. Before he left he'd given instructions to Varel, to be passed on to Aiden upon his return. The wardens' only priority was to find the Mother and kill her, and put every one of her minions to the sword.

He checked his horse's pack for provisions. Bread, cheese, more cheese, a change of clothing… He stopped. The air was heavy. Foul-smelling. His blood began to burn. "Darkspawn! Call the wardens!" he shouted.

They appeared out of the ground in groups of three to six, all over the courtyard. His guards surrounded him like a shield, trying to herd him into the keep. Alistair resisted. He didn't want to be a pampered dandy. Nor did he want to become a martyr like Cailan.

Inside the keep, Mhairi sensed it first. "Darkspawn!" she called to her companions. "In the courtyard!"

"The king is in the courtyard!" Eamon shouted. "Go, now!" He ran ahead of the others.

The fighters poured out of the keep with weapons ready. They heard screams and groans of the wounded and dying, and the peculiar gurgly-growl of darkspawn. Beneath the chaotic sounds of combat, the voice of a talking darkspawn rasped out orders.

Anders cast a glyph of paralysis around the king before he started his offensive attacks. It wouldn't protect Alistair from arrows, but no melee fighter would reach him. Then he set upon the most threatening enemies and sent telekinetic flaming daggers their way. A small number of monsters were grouped together, apparently readying themselves for a blitz attack. Anders knocked them out of the battle with chain lightning, then charred them with fireballs.

Nathaniel peppered the area with arrows. Sigrun struggled with a crossbow for a few moments until she got the heavy weapon situated, propped on the railing in front of the market. Varel, Garavel, Mhairi, and Bryant attacked the enemy on the ground. Eamon positioned himself near Alistair, ready to fight back anything that got too close to the king once the glyph vanished.

Alistair wished he hadn't sent Winter and Aiden off so soon. In their days together as wardens, the three of them made the most formidable team of fighters in the country. They weren't here, but he was. He knew he ought to be inside the keep, but he grabbed a bow and a quiver of arrows and found a niche from which to shoot. If he could stay in hiding and fight from there, Eamon wouldn't wet himself and maybe they'd all come out of this alive. Eamon followed and hovered over him.

As soon as the thought of everyone surviving crossed his mind, a battlemage's stonefist spell knocked Varel off his feet. Before the seneschal could recover from the blow and get to his feet, an alpha hurlock appeared with a battleaxe, standing at Varel's head and swinging the axe with a downward motion like a man splitting logs. The creature split Varel's chest open. He was dead instantly, his heart cloven in two.

"Varel, NO!" Garavel ran toward the seneschal, not yet comprehending Varel was dead. He battered darkspawn with his shield and swung his sword viciously, mowing down the battlemage, the alpha, and a score of lesser creatures in his rage. When they were dead, he knelt beside Varel. "Maker curse you," he spat at the monsters that had killed his friend.

"Garavel!" Mhairi screamed. An ogre loomed over him, but he didn't see or hear it. His eyes were riveted on Varel's lifeless body. When the ogre's hand closed around him, he became aware of a crushing sensation and of being lifted off the ground.

Nathaniel pelted the ogre with arrows, shooting two at a time into the beast's chest. They stuck, but didn't penetrate deeply enough to do much damage. Anders had learned Morrigan's crushing prison spell but couldn't use it while the ogre held Garavel. The most he could do was aim fireballs at the ogre's lower legs, hoping to make it drop the captain.

The ogre turned this way and that, swatting at attackers with its free hand, clutching Garavel in the other. The creature's immense strength was slowly crushing the life out of the captain. He couldn't breathe. He felt his ribs bend and snap.

Mhairi ran at the ogre and stabbed at its legs repeatedly. The creature reached for her and kicked at her, but she dodged and continued to drive her sword into its lower limbs. It turned, and she hacked across its tendons at the knees, causing it to stumble forward. When it did, it dropped the wounded captain.

Nathaniel stopped firing long enough to run to Garavel's aid. He and Mhairi dragged him away from the ogre, mindful of Oghren's recent death. They left him behind the merchants' tables and went back to the fight.

Anders was free to use crushing prison, which he performed better than Morrigan had. His spell squeezed the ogre like an invisible fist, compressing its lungs so they couldn't fill with air, and pressing its ribs until they splintered and penetrated its internal organs with bone shards. The beast fell dead from massive internal bleeding.

"Be finding the leader," one of the darkspawn ordered. "Be killing it. The Mother commands it."

Alistair's skin crawled. These talking abominations were the vilest things he'd seen apart from the archdemon. He aimed an arrow at the creature's forehead and let it loose. It found its mark, skewering the talker's head and putting and end to its freakish chatter.

"Creepy," he muttered.

The two biggest threats were dead, and the wardens finished off the rest of the darkspawn as the creatures faltered about, seeking their leader. Alistair noted their weakness. If they didn't have one of the talkers—the disciples—with them, they were disorganized and vulnerable.

Varel was dead. Garavel was wounded, gravely if not fatally. Who was left to lead the Vigil?

Winter is the best warden the order has had since Duncan. I need her back here to finish this.

It was a lousy choice to have to make. He didn't want to order her back. He didn't want to ask, much less make it a command. But Ferelden needed her once more. His next act as king would be to force a pregnant woman back to the battlefield to risk her life and her child's life to save his country.

This was one of those oft-occurring times he hated being king.

Anders was able to heal Garavel enough to have him moved inside the keep. He wouldn't know the full extent of the captain's condition until he could do a proper examination. Once he got the wounded man stabilized, he mended two broken ribs and a punctured lung. He sensed some of the man's internal organs were bruised. A spell or two to rejuvenate him and take away the pain, and his patient showed rapid improvement. After a few days' rest, he'd be able to resume his duties. When he'd done with Garavel, Anders informed the king that the captain would definitely survive and probably heal completely.

If one didn't take into account the emotional scars made by seeing his closest friend slaughtered, he thought. This Grey Warden gig isn't my idea of freedom. It's a death sentence. If not a bloody death like Varel's, it was a slow death, and one they didn't bother to mention until after it was done and irreversible. The injustice within the order is less than within the Circle, but it exists nonetheless.

In the battle, they had lost Master Wade and Herrin, Seneschal Varel, and a number of civilians and guards. The merchants were caught unawares and all sustained injuries. Several soldiers, Mhairi, and Bryant received minor cuts and sprains.

The wounded were rounded up and brought to Anders for healing. When things were sorted and none of the wardens sensed darkspawn, Alistair again prepared to leave for Redcliffe with his guards. He appointed Bryant acting seneschal until Garavel was well enough to take over from him.

Eamon set off for the palace to see to business until the king returned from his trip. He'd been thinking about the foolish Alistair-Teagan-Winter triangle, and believed it was high time the king learn the truth about Teagan and the warden. There would be no more secrets, lies, and excuses. When Alistair saw the girl was lost to him for certain, he would be free to pursue a more advantageous course of action. Ferelden needed no ties with Starkhaven. But Orlais… that was a prize within the king's reach.

On the way across the plains, Alistair ran into Aiden. They made camp, shared some mead that Aiden got from Teagan's stores—a large quantity of mead for two men to put down—and they talked like they used to do in the old days. With more slurring. While they made their descent into drunkenness, Alistair gave him an account of the last battle at the keep. Aiden was saddened to hear Varel was gone.

"Even dead, I'll wager he's more animated than stuffy old Mistress Woolsey," Aiden said, referring to the keep's priggish accountant.

"That biddy is a frustrated old maid," Alistair remarked with equal irreverence. "I needed wardens at the Vigil. What did Weisshaupt send? An accountant, for crap's sake! A crotchety old woman who can't lift a sword much less wield one."

"I wonder why she calls herself 'Mistress' Woolsey. Any woman with a sour attitude like hers is nobody's mistress. She needs a real man to get hold of her and… Oh, sorry. I forgot you haven't had much luck in that area either." Aiden flashed a cheeky grin.

"You're addressing your king, you know," Alistair said, joining in the banter. "You can't go about insulting the royal… the royal…" He looked down at his crotch. "Whatever you call it."

Aiden cackled. "You have a name for it? What is it? The Royal Scepter? No wait, I remember. You tried to fool Winter with that lamppost routine. You sneaky devil. It's the Lamppost, right?" He laughed harder. "Lamppost in Winter. Get it? It takes on all new meaning."

"Wait just a minute, Warden. Why are we talking about my private part? Yours has seen more action. It deserves a name."

"It has several, depending on the occasion," Aiden confided. "If the woman is inexperienced, it's the Trailblazer. Sometimes it's the Jousting Lance. And if the woman is older, it's Dragon Slayer."

The two drunk men laughed and jabbered nonsensical things for a while, until the mead wore off and fatigue set in. Before they retired, Alistair said, "It appears I'm going to have to ask Winter to return to the keep. She's doing well, I trust? She made it to Redcliffe safely?"

"She's fine," Aiden said. "But I don't think she'll welcome the news that she's being called back to duty." He thought it was a terrible idea. It wasn't his decision to make, though, and he was glad he wouldn't be there to see her reaction. "In any event, you'll find them in Rainesfere."

"Really? Why Rainesfere? That's Teagan's old bannorn."

Damn, I let my guard down again, Aiden thought. He doesn't know about Teagan yet. "She said she'd rather be there than Redcliffe. Can't blame her. It's an ugly little town."

"Of course, I remember now. Teagan gave us full use of his house any time we're in the area. She's probably there with the baby's father." His high spirits were dampened by the thought.

Aiden asked, "You've never gotten over her, have you?"

Alistair looked miserable. "No, I haven't. Maker knows I've tried, but I don't know if I ever will get over her. I love her as much today as I did when… Ah, what's difference does it make?" His subtle shudder revealed exactly where his line of thought was going before he stopped himself.

"As you did when you agreed to Morrigan's ritual," Aiden finished. He wasn't angry or jealous any more. Unlike Alistair, he didn't pine for his old love. Morrigan was an unnatural creature, whereas Winter was human like them. Being of the same species really does count in a relationship, he thought with an inner grin. He suppressed his humor and said, "If you plan to send Winter back to duty, she should have her title restored. She's the leader, not me."

"We'll see," Alistair answered. "It's a temporary assignment, and with luck it'll be over in a week or two. I'd rather not order her out again, but I may have no choice. I'll make the call when I see if she's in condition to fight and talk to her in person."

"You're going to Rainesfere?"

"Yes. Why? Any reason I shouldn't go?"

"None. But I didn't think you'd want to see her with him."

"I'll have to see him sooner or later," Alistair shrugged. "He's in for a stern warning. Maker help him if he breaks her heart."

"No worries there," Aiden said.

"He's smitten, eh?"

"Completely."

"How well I know…" Alistair sighed. "Enough of this. I need sleep and so do you. Good night, Aiden."

"Wait a minute," Aiden said. "I'm sick of talking around the topic. Do you really not know who Winter has been involved with?" How could Alistair not figure it out? Redcliffe. Rainesfere. What other single, available man was connected to both places? He didn't want to be the one to tell him, but the man needed to know what he was about to walk into.

"I assumed it was Ser Perth," Alistair answered. "Maybe he's forsaken his vows, which is what I would have done. I asked her if he was the one but she denied it. I can't fathom why she'd lie…"

"She didn't lie." He steeled himself for the king's wrath. "Alistair, it's Teagan. He's the father of her baby."

Silence stretched out for what felt like minutes. When Alistair spoke, his tone was flat and hard. "That's a lie. Teagan wouldn't be so underhanded."

"I'm telling you, she's with Teagan. I've seen them together. Why would I lie about it?"

"I don't know why you'd find this amusing. You're an arse, Aiden. You know damned well how I feel about her and how much I respect Teagan."

"That's why I told you, idiot," Aiden snarled back. "I didn't want you to find out by seeing them together. You deserved to know, and I shouldn't have had to be the one to break the news. It was Winter's responsibility to tell you about Teagan."

"Shut up!" Alistair roared. "Stay out of my business. You've taken your jokes way too far this time. I don't want to hear another word from you."

Aiden wouldn't be so easily quieted. "Fine. You'll see for yourself if I'm lying. I was trying to be a friend and give you fair warning."

"I don't need your infantile jests and so-called 'warnings'. Just… just drop it and go to sleep."

Neither man slept much, and when they parted company in the morning they were too irritable to speak, aside from bidding each other a curt goodbye.

Aiden, feeling a prick of conscience and knowing what lay ahead for Alistair, added, "Safe journey, friend." Alistair muttered, "Yes, you too," and he rode off for Rainesfere.

Part 2 – Reality Bites

Alistair neared the manor. He told his guards to stay put at the southern edge of Teagan's property, and he dismounted his horse and left it with the guards. It was a short stroll to the house. Very short, considering he was going to see the woman he loved with the man she loved.

As he approached the house, he saw Winter on the porch. She stood with her hands on the rail gazing toward the mountains. While he watched her, reflecting on how beautiful and contented she looked, Teagan came out of the manor. He put his arms around her, embracing her from behind. He was standing too close to her. His body was against hers. His hands began caressing her while he kissed the back of her neck.

Why is the son of a bitch touching her like that? Why is he kissing her like she belongs to him? How dare he take advantage of her?

Rage boiled in him. Rage and blinding jealousy. Teagan knew Alistair was in love with Winter. He knew it—everyone knew it—but the crafty old bastard seduced her when she was pregnant out of wedlock and vulnerable.

Teagan had his licentious eyes on her for many months, come to think of it.

No wonder the old lech was so generous with his hospitality! No wonder, when they visited, he put Winter up in his master suite and took a smaller one for himself. Did he think Alistair was deaf and couldn't hear him rummaging around in the room beside his, long after Winter had gone to bed? Did he sneak into her bed even then? She was fond of him, Alistair recalled, but not beyond admiration and friendship. Was she so accomplished an actress that she could hide her feelings, or was she confused and shamed into hiding them after the deed was done?

"She conceived the same night I did…" Morrigan's words returned with fresh clarity.

The truth slapped him in the face. It was Teagan who bedded Winter that night in Redcliffe Castle. He waited for the perfect opportunity, when they were confined to the castle, when she was hurt and gullible and liable to fall for an older man's experienced flattery.

"I'll sodding kill him," Alistair growled under his breath. He quickened his pace and strode toward the couple.

The faint clank of armor caught Winter's attention. She turned her face toward him. When she saw him, she smiled. "Alistair," she greeted. A warm, friendly greeting, as if nothing were out of the ordinary. He was momentarily thrown off by her cordiality.

Teagan left off ravaging her neck. When he saw their visitor, he released Winter and greeted Alistair with a smile, as she had done. The pair came down the front steps to receive their guest.

Alistair's anger flared. "You smug bastard," he snarled, and he moved in to throw a punch at Teagan. In a split-second, Teagan assessed the king's mood and intent, and he dodged. Alistair followed up with a left, which was partially evaded, grazing the arl's jaw. He was thrown off-balance, and Teagan used it to his advantage, pushing his attacker aside and causing him to stumble. The effect was to anger Alistair further.

"Alistair! What are you doing?" Winter shouted.

The royal guards, seeing the commotion, moved closer to protect the king. One of them drew his sword, another his bow.

"Alistair, stop!" Winter said. "Your guards are going to kill my husband!" She moved to place herself between the guards' line of fire and the dueling duo.

"Hold," the senior guard ordered. "That's the arl of Redcliffe he's fighting with—the chancellor's brother—so I don't think the king is in danger. There's a pregnant woman with them—from this distance she looks like the Hero of Ferelden—and we can't risk harming her, or the king will have our heads. Besides," he added with a grin, "I haven't seen a good brawl in a long time. Let them fight. We'll just ease a little closer in case he gets into trouble with the old fellow."

Alistair's focus was solely on the fight. He regained his footing and leapt at Teagan in a flying tackle, connecting with his target and taking him to the ground. They wrestled, Alistair trying to punch while Teagan tried to avoid the blows. He was mostly successful, but not entirely. Teagan used all his strength to roll to one side, throwing Alistair off balance again, and he rolled away before Alistair could pin him. He was glad the king's armor hindered his movements, or by now Alistair would have overpowered him and pounded him senseless.

Alistair got to his feet and threw another punch, hitting Teagan's chin. Sensing he'd gotten the upper hand, Alistair put all his weight behind a follow-up blow. Teagan intercepted it, catching Alistair's fist in his hand and twisting the younger man's arm until he had him in a hammerlock. Alistair let out an inarticulate roar of frustration and pain.

Teagan's ire was more controlled than his opponent's. "You might have hit Winter, you arse," he said to the king. It wasn't the wisest choice of words, but he wasn't feeling too respectful to the man who tried to knock him out. "Calm down and I'll release you. Keep acting like a barbarian and you can stand here in pain." When he felt Alistair relax, he let him out of the hold.

Alistair whirled on Teagan, still furious and now embarrassed on top of it from being bested so easily by a man who wasn't a trained warrior. He massaged his aching shoulder. "You," he said to Teagan. "How could you?"

"How could I what, Alistair? How could I have fallen in love with a beautiful, fascinating young woman? Easily, as you're aware. But know this: I did not steal her from you. If I'd known you had feelings for her, I wouldn't have approached her."

"You knew," Alistair spat.

"No, Alistair, he didn't," Winter confirmed.

"Don't defend him," Alistair said. "He just said 'as you're aware,' meaning he knew how I felt about you."

Teagan tried to reason with the king and explain himself, insisting he knew nothing of Alistair's feelings for Winter until he heard it from Eamon, months after their affair began.

"Eamon knew of this?" Alistair said. "He keeps your secrets better than he keeps mine."

"Eamon wasn't protecting me. He was protecting you from yourself."

The drinking. The tantrums. The drunken rants and passing out and hangovers. Eamon's threat to leave my court if I didn't start conducting myself like a king instead of a drunken lout. Alistair conceded. "Alright. I get it. Is there anything else I should know? Any more secrets?"

"It's not a secret, but we're married," Teagan said. "As of two days ago."

He said to Winter, "So I didn't imagine hearing you say 'husband', did I?" Alistair groaned when an old memory crept in. "Andraste's flaming arse, I am an idiot. You were attracted to Teagan the day you met him. I teased you about it. Remember?"

Teagan was pleased to hear of it, and curious to know why he thought she was drawn to him, but this was a terrible time to pursue the topic. He let it pass.

"No," she answered. "I don't remember. You and Aiden teased me all the time. Did you think I paid either of you any mind?"

"I guess not." He was visibly calmer than he'd been a few minutes earlier. After months of emotional turmoil and denial, the truth was beginning to penetrate his thick skull: Winter belonged to another man.

He's a lucky bastard, he thought.

"Please, let's be done with this," Teagan said, hoping to make peace. It disturbed him to have been the cause of Alistair's heartache, but from what he gleaned, Winter never returned his affection. He purposed to speak more of it to her later, in private. "Let's go inside," he offered. If not for his clothing and hair being in disarray and a small trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth, one would have thought it was a typical call from his almost-nephew.

After a while, they dismissed the fight like it hadn't happened. A round of apologies and a mug of mead later (for the men; Winter was abstaining from alcohol), Alistair stated the purpose of his visit.

"The reason I came to find you was because… I hate to ask… I need you back at the keep," Alistair said to Winter. "Temporarily, of course, as warden-commander."

"No. Out of the question," Teagan answered for her.

"Just a moment, love," she hushed him. He acquiesced only out of curiosity. "What's going on, Alistair? Why would I want to go back when I've just wed and I have a baby coming in about two months? What can I do that Aiden and the others can't?"

"I agree," Teagan put in.

Alistair told them about the attack and about Varel's death.

"Oh no!" Winter said. "Not Varel!"

"All the more reason she shouldn't be there, Alistair," Teagan said. "Varel was a decorated officer, a seasoned warrior with decades of experience. She's expecting, for Andraste's sake! How can you ask her to fight in her condition?"

"It's my duty," she intoned. She dreaded going back, but she couldn't refuse to go. "I'm still a Grey Warden."

"Precisely," Alistair agreed. "You've got an uncanny sensitivity to your taint. None of the others have your instinct." He said to Teagan, "It's not experience that counts; it's her ability to detect and outmaneuver the enemy that makes her invaluable."

"The taint?" Teagan said. "What's all this about a taint?"

Alistair looked at Winter questioningly. "He doesn't know?"

She sighed. "No. It didn't seem necessary to tell him, since I didn't plan to go back to the order…"

"What is the blasted taint?" Teagan repeated. "Don't you two speak around me like I'm not here or I'm too dense to understand."

"It's your wife's place to tell you," Alistair said. "I'm sorry I spoke out of turn, Winter. I thought, since you were carrying his child, you would have told him." She acknowledged his apology absently. "Now, about the darkspawn, I noticed something that could help you finish them. When they appear, they're always led by one of the talkers, or 'disciples,' right?"

"Yes," she answered, recalling the times she'd encountered them.

"I'm thinking those disciples are the Mother's generals. When we fought the band at the keep and killed the disciple, the others didn't know what to do. They were vulnerable, and we were able to kill them off with little resistance. That's the key—kill the general."

"I'll keep that in mind and pass the information to the others," Winter replied.

"I don't like this," Teagan grumbled. "But I understand."

They convinced Alistair to stay for lunch. Nothing affected the king's appetite, not even being jilted. He ate as heartily as always. Teagan watched Winter fidget, and wondered why she would be so reluctant to talk to him. After lunch, Alistair thanked his hosts, and he and Teagan shook hands to show there were no hard feelings between them.

When they were alone, Teagan asked her directly. "Tell me about this taint. If Alistair thinks I ought to know, and if it affects our baby, you owe me an explanation."

"It doesn't affect the baby, so please don't worry about him," she said first.

That's good news, Teagan thought. So why all the secrecy? "Go on."

"It affects only me. Or… us. In a way. But not for a few decades."

"Could you be a little less vague, my dear?"

She said, "There's a ritual involved in becoming a Grey Warden. It's secret, and it's distasteful, and we don't speak of it to civilians. Our blood becomes tainted, and we receive the ability to sense darkspawn."

"What exactly does this ritual entail?"

She made a face, as if tasting something sour. "We have to drink… darkspawn blood."

Unpleasant, he thought. Downright repugnant. "I see. How does this affect us, and what did you mean by 'not for decades'?"

She stood and paced the room. "It's not important. I've told you all there is to know."

"Why are you nervous, if there's nothing else to know?"

"I'm nervous about going back to the Vigil," she said. A small but necessary lie to avoid telling him the eventual effects of the joining.

"I don't care what Alistair said. You're not going back."

"I have to go. It's not a choice. It's a duty."

"In that case," Teagan said, "my duty to you dictates that I become a Grey Warden also."

"No! No you can't do that!" She crouched beside his chair and regarded him with imploring eyes. "Please say you won't. Promise me!"

"Winter, my beloved, I would promise you anything else, but I can't promise this. I won't let you go alone."

"Let's make a bargain."

"I'm listening."

"We'll go to the Vigil together. Don't join the wardens. Fight with me as a civilian, and when it's over, I won't return to the order no matter what. Not even for another blight."

He considered it. She was agitated about his wanting to join the wardens, and he wondered what had her so upset. "As part of our bargain, you tell me why it's so important to you that I remain a civilian. The whole story, please."

She agreed. Better to spill warden secrets than to lose him in the joining. "The blood is tainted. Darkspawn blood is poison. Most of us make it through the ritual. But some of us react more… immediately… to its affect."

"Meaning? Must I draw every word out of you, darling?"

"No, I apologize. I've guarded this secret for so long it's hard to speak of it. What I mean is that some recruits die during the joining. The blood poisons them and they die on the spot. In my joining, Aiden and I survived, but some of our fellow recruits died before our eyes. I lost two recruits the same day I lost Amaranthine."

"The recruits Aiden mentioned," Teagan recalled. "Is that what you're afraid of? You fear I'll die in the joining? Nothing else? No other secrets?"

She saw no need to tell him the taint would ultimately kill her. That was another 28 years away, give or take. "Yes. And no, there are no other secrets."

"Very well." He rose from his seat. "Let's go, Warden-Commander."

"To the Vigil? Right now? I thought it could wait until morning."

"And so it will. But since we'll have no privacy at the keep, I'd like to enjoy one more day of our short honeymoon. We're going upstairs."

Alistair left Rainesfere with a broken heart. Broken again and again because he'd been too stupid to accept that Winter didn't love him. He wanted to be angry with her, but he couldn't. It was simple: either you love someone or you don't. She didn't. She'd already told him she didn't love him but he wouldn't listen. And he let himself be hurt again. Not her fault; it was his.

He wanted even more to be angry with Teagan, but he couldn't stay mad at him either. He knew Teagan too well to think his surrogate uncle would have gone behind his back, no matter how much he cared for Winter. Teagan was a true noble and a gentleman. He played by a gentleman's rules. His honor would have prevented him from pursuing another man's woman.

He understood why Eamon had tried to keep him from going to Redcliffe, and why Aiden thought it so important to tell him before he witnessed it for himself. They tried to spare him the worst of the pain, but he was a stubborn arse. Everyone else knew Winter and Teagan were lovers. Everyone but him. Why was he so blind to the obvious truths?

Because I'm stupid, as Morrigan always said.

"Shut up," he said aloud to his inner voice.

He slowed his horse to a plodding pace while he pondered his chancellor's recent advice. Eamon was right about one thing: As king, his primary concern had to be Ferelden and her people. What was standing in his way of fulfilling his duties? An obstinate refusal to let go of an elusive dream?

"Sod it," he muttered, and turned his horse around, traveling away from Denerim and in the direction of the Orlesian border, and ultimately, the royal palace at Val Royeaux. His confused guards rode after him.

Part 3 - Battle Preparation

The following morning we rose at dawn, as we'd done months ago in Redcliffe, and prepared for an early departure. We meant to travel fully armored. My armor was getting too tight, but with Teagan's help I managed to get most of my torso covered.

"Someone needs to start making maternity armor," I grumbled.

"I'll speak with the blacksmith as soon as we return," Teagan smiled, humoring my ludicrous statement. He received a sharp look for his effort.

"There are new kinds of darkspawn there," I warned him as he laced the sides of my cuirass. "Talking ones, armored ogres, and the worst are called childers." I described their appearance and their attacks. "When the battle begins, don't fight alone. Don't let the enemy isolate you. Stay in a group, even if there are only two of you. Never alone. Don't get near an armored ogre. Whatever you do, don't try to fight the childers. Let the wardens take care of those… What are you smiling about?"

"You sound just like you did the morning we left for Denerim," he answered. "Worrying for me, when it's you who was in more danger. It showed me you cared, and it's a fond memory."

"You aren't taking this very seriously," I scowled.

"Of course I am, love. Please continue."

"We'll go over this again at the keep. Let's go," I said. My warden-commander mode was in full swing again. This time, before I left Amaranthine and turned my post over to the new warden-commander, the Mother was going to pay for what she did to my arling with her wretched life.

Upon our arrival at the Vigil, we were greeted by Aiden and the others. Bryant served as seneschal even though Alistair appointed Garavel to the post. The captain didn't want it… not yet. He hadn't gotten over the loss of his friend and mentor Varel, and didn't feel right stepping into the job.

Bryant called me aside. "Welcome back, Warden-Commander. I have two things to discuss with you. The first is my position. If you want someone else to serve as acting seneschal, I'm ready to step down at your word. Secondly, we have a couple of leads on the Mother's lair. One is doubtful, in my opinion. The other sounds promising."

"Keep the post," I said. "The king made a wise choice. When Garavel's ready, we'll make the change." He agreed. "Now let's find the Mother and put an end to her. She owes me for the hundreds of lives she's taken, and I won't settle for anything less than the annihilation of her brood and the abomination that spawned it."

"I couldn't have said it better." He showed me the two locations on the map. One was a hidden entrance to some old dwarven ruins we'd explored before. She wouldn't be there. The other was a place called Dragonbone Wastes. Remote and forbidding, it was home to a dragon-worshipping cult like we'd found in Haven… and worse.

"Here," I said, pointing to the area. "Perfect place for a hideout. That's where we'll find her. Assemble the wardens for a briefing. I want every able-bodied fighter ready to move out at first light tomorrow."

"Including me, I hope? I wouldn't want to be left here to manage the keep—which Mistress Woolsey can do—while my fellow wardens are fighting," Bryant said.

"Every warden gets to go along on this one," I confirmed. "You're needed out there with us."

The rest of the wardens had come to the throne room, along with Teagan, Garavel, and Morrigan. The woman kept turning up, occasionally at good times… like now. I wouldn't refuse her help in this battle. Without her, Anders was the only mage I had.

I gave them the location and divided us into two teams. Traveling in smaller groups would make us harder to detect. We'd meet at the entrance to the wastes. Aiden's group included Bryant, Anders, Sigrun, and Mhairi. I took Teagan, Nathaniel, Morrigan, and Garavel. I was a stickler for balanced armies; each group had two rogues, two warriors, and a mage. Each had an expert bowman. Teagan and Sigrun were fairly good archers as well, should we require more ranged fighters than melee.

"If you're fairly well acquainted with a bow, bring one along with a full quiver of arrows. Teagan, Mhairi, and Garavel, are you able to handle a greatsword or battleaxe?"

Garavel answered first, "I can wield a battleaxe quite well, Warden-Commander."

Mhairi put it, "As can I."

Teagan said, "I'm not bad with a greatsword." His specialty, like the other two fighters, was longsword and shield, which they would need if we ran into childers. But I wanted every fighter able to switch from ranged to melee, or light melee to heavy weapons as the need presented itself. I'd already seen that Bryant, a greatswordsman, was adept with the bow.

"Very well, I think that settles it, unless any of you have questions." I paused to give them time to ask, but they were quiet. "Get some rest tonight, ladies and gents, because we leave at dawn. Forced march and no rest stops. We won't slow our pace until the mission is over. I'll see you in the courtyard in the morning. Dismissed."

Teagan leaned to Aiden and said, sotto voce, as if his voice didn't carry, "Is she always like this with you fellows? Stern and demanding?"

Aiden snorted. "Wait until you see her when she faces the enemy. Cocky, swaggering, twirling those two swords around, and as mean as a she-bear."

"Maker! Are you serious?" Teagan said.

"When I first laid eyes on her, she'd just taken out five bandits single-handedly. Didn't get a drop of blood on her, she was so fast." Aiden exaggerated. I did get blood on my armor. A little.

"Five bandits? All by herself?"

Aiden said, "Do you think I would have let a woman lead me for the past two years if she wasn't exceptional in battle?"

"But… she's such a kindhearted person… I wouldn't have guessed…" My dear husband was appalled.

"I swear, the archdemon more likely died of intimidation than a blade through the skull."

"That's a side of her I've never seen," Teagan said.

"Count yourself lucky, old boy."

"If you two are finished, I believe I said you are dismissed," I said with exaggerated sternness. "Everyone to quarters. Now." I walked out of the throne room and to the living quarters with Teagan close behind. For his benefit, and to give him a preview of my 'cocky' side, I put a bit of a swagger in my step.