DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Bioware

Milva

There was a heavy silence in the room they occupied in Eamon's estate in Denerim. After the old man passed the Redcliffe arling on to his brother Teagan, he took up residence in the vast manor that towered the Market District of Denerim. His proximity to the royal palace had allowed him to fulfil his role of counsellor at Queen Anora's side.

With ten years now separating them from the last Blight, the Grey Wardens were slowly returning to being forgotten by the people. Their work was far from being over, however. Hopefully for Milva Mahariel, the Heroin of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine, Eamon had not forgotten that he owed her and her companions his life and his family's. He had bestowed her an entire tower from his estate for her to use when her duty would call her to stay in Denerim.

There was nothing opulent about her room, a rustic oak bed with chiselled Mabaris flanking the footboard, a tall wooden wardrobe containing light outfits for her stay in the manor, an armour and a weapon stands currently holding a refined brigandine displaying proudly the two Griffins of the Grey Warden Crest on its chest. A finely carved bow was resting against the armour, courtesy of Varathorn for saving his clan in the Brecilian forest a decade ago. A wooden tub was hidden behind a screen, in the corner of the room.

A large war hound was curled up in front of the fireplace, his gaze fixed upon the two Grey Warden standing in the centre of the room. There were several patches of white hairs spread across his dark brown fur, giving away his old age. Hatchi had survived the Blight and enjoyed many years at Milva' side afterwards. One could think it was a miracle that he was still alive given how much darkspawn flesh he had torn apart with his sharp fangs. It was well known that most of the Mabaris who had fought darkspawns and survived would rapidly die from the taint running in the creatures' putrid blood. Although the flowers found in the Korcari Wilds could delay the spread for a year at most, the taint would inevitably claim the life of the loyal mastiffs.

The truth was, Milva had submitted Hatchi to the Joining shortly after she had been promoted Warden Commander of Ferelden. The hound was on the verge of death and she could not let him go. Maybe she had been selfish and Hatchi deserved to rest after all went through. But there were still sparkles in his amber eyes and he had gleefully followed his partner everywhere she went over the last decade. If anything, it seemed that the Mabari was satisfied with his fate.

Hatchi suddenly stood up and stretched his legs, yawning. The noise seemed to bring the two people's minds back to the room.

'I should be the one going,' the man said, breaking the heavy silence between them.

'Hawke needs you, Alistair, we still don't know what the hell this Red lyrium is or does,' the short dalish elf who was facing him answered. There was tenderness in her tone, the one one could hear between two souls who had faced the possibility of losing their other half many times, and yet were both still standing. They had learned to cherish these moments of respite, before duty would take them apart once again.

Alistair closed the gap between them and held her in a tight embrace. She was so short that her head rested against his chest, where she could feel his heart beating against his ribcage.

'The Hinterlands is a bloody battlefield, Milva. Since the Queen allowed the mages to stay in Redcliffe, rogue templars and apostates are slaughtering each other there.' He paused, holding her even tighter. 'What if you get caught in one of these skirmishes? It is an unnecessary risk.'

He was worried, of course he was worried. He was always worried. She smiled against his chest, retorting:

'And I would have thought that after all these years, you would eventually trust my fighting skills'.

'You know I do, silly, I just don't like the idea of you running around in a region set ablaze by the war,' he replied. 'We don't even know if Teagan still has a hold on his own arling!'

'I will be discreet,' she promised, raising her head to meet his hazelnut irises. 'I only need an audience with Fiona, it won't take long.'

'Why now? Why not wait until the war is over?' He asked, still trying to change her mind.

'We are Grey Wardens, Alistair. We had our Joining during a Blight ten years ago. We cannot wait, I do not want to wait! What if we start hearing the Calling within the next year?', her voice started to shake, but she continued nonetheless, 'I will not wait to be driven mad into seeking my own death in the Deep Road! I cannot. Not until I am sure there is no hope left for us. I must speak to Fiona. I must know if she can explain how she was cured from the taint'.

That had been her obsession for the past months. She was fully aware that all Grey Wardens were on borrowed time and the tainted blood they had ingested would eventually turn them into Ghouls. The custom was to go in the Deep Roads, crawling with darkspawns, to seek an honourable death once a Warden started hearing the Calling.

Milva wanted none of this, however. Since she heard that Fiona, former Great Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, had been a Grey Warden before being miraculously cured, she had made her primary objective to find out how.

'Don't you think we would have known by now if there was a cure for the taint?' Alistair sighed. He was really supportive of Milva's desire to cure the taint, but that was the only thing she had on her lips in the past weeks.

'I would not put it past Weisshaupt to withhold this kind of information... They have nothing to tie us to the Order without the taint and the prospect of a short life.' Milva said in a bitter voice.

'Don't say that! Many Wardens see it as an honour to serve.' Alistair snapped, taking a step back from her.

They remained silent. Milva bit her cheeks to prevent herself from retorting that many Wardens only did the Joining because the gallows were the only alternative option. It certainly was an honour to fight in their ranks when the previous blights occurred, but so much time had passed between the Fourth and the Fifth Blight that Warden's ranks had thinned, no one seeing them as useful as before. Already now, ten years only after they had defeated Urthemiel, she could see how the common folks' had switched from amazement and gratefulness to merely courteous respect when they would see them. Many recruits had a criminal past and saw the Order as the only way to buy themselves a few more years and escape punishment. Not all of them, of course, but it was a fact that Alistair seemed to conveniently ignore.

She was not inclined to further argue with him about this, however. She admired his loyalty and sense of honour. He had sworn an Oath and was ready to give his life for it. The ex-templar was one of the very few innerly good people she knew. The ones who did not have a hidden agenda for any decision they made or action they took. Sure his naivety could sometimes irritate her, but the truth was, Milva was convinced the world would be a better place if more like Alistair were in it.

'I only want to have a chance of growing old by your side, Vhenan.' She said softly in an attempt to defuse the argument. She slowly raised her hand to brush his cheek. He let her do so.

'Why? I am not sure I want to see wrinkles on this pretty face!' he cheekily replied in a playful tone before grunting at the impact of her tiny fist against his chest. 'Ouch! Heavens I can see now how you defeated this bloody dragon, such strength in such a little hand' he said in exaggerated amazement.

Before he could tease her any further, she ducked and swiftly knocked his legs under him with a sweep kick. In a split second she was then sitting on his chest with a victorious grin on her lips.

'You are becoming rusty, my dear Warden,' she sassed him.

'I am but only easily fooled by such a beautiful face,' he replied with a suave tone, smiling.

She grinned and backed off his chest so he could sit on the bear pelt he had fallen on. She mirrored him and sat cross-legged. Before she could speak, a heavy head dropped on her lap and wide amber eyes were staring at her. She answered Hatchi's quiet request for scratches, letting go of a soft laugh.

'Of course I get the kicks and he gets the affection', Alistair pouted.

'Whine less, and maybe you will get some too,' the silver haired elf replied with a smirk.

'Will you take him, at least?' he asked.

'I don't kn...'

Hatchi made a whimpering noise, interrupting her.

'I know you want to come my old friend, but you deserve some rest at the estate after having taken care of this darkspawn band near South Reach,' Milva answered, still scratching his head.

The mastiff proudly stood up and barked twice as a reply, showing her that he was more than capable to journey with her once more.

'You really want to come, don't you?' she sighed.

He barked again, almost joyfully this time.

'Fine, but you be careful and silent, you big clumsy fur ball ' she ordered.

Hatchi yapped, happily wagging his short tail.

'You really have to teach me how you do that buddy', Alistair commented, scratching Hatchi's head as well. 'You might be the only being in Thedas able to change the mind of this obstinate lady'.

'Don't be jealous! You know very well that if the circumstances had allowed it, I would be more than happy to have you.' Milva reassured him.

'I know, I still find it hard letting you go there alone.' He groaned.

'No one must know. If Weisshaupt is really hiding something regarding Fiona's case, surely they do not want me sniffing around.' Her voice sounded alarmed now.

'I still think you are being paranoid. Besides, the Anderfels are at the other end of Thedas, how would they know?' Alistair remarked, shrugging.

'Birds travel fast and so do messengers. Please Alistair, this must be kept a secret until I know more.' There was definitely worry in her tone, giving out her distrust in the higher rank Wardens.

'Of course. I will cover for you.' Alistair said to put her mind at rest.

'Thank you. Nathaniel knows too, he will assume my role while we are both away. He's done it before so I trust he will do good.'

'If only his father had been half the man Nathaniel is...' Alistair murmured.

'I know.' She replied.

Nathaniel had proven to be a trusted comrade and friend, not to mention he was unbeatable with a bow. Long after the defeat of the Architect and the Mother, he remained at Milva' side to help rebuild the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and restore the Howe name that had been tarnished after Rendon Howe ordered the slaughtering of the Cousland family and sided with Loghain during the Fifth Blight.

Milva and Alistair stood up again and slowly walked towards the fireplace. The flames were illuminating the elf' shiny silver hair, making them look almost white. Her Vallaslin was light brown, looking like a scar that never healed completely as she had not coloured it to smoothen it.

'When are you leaving?' Alistair eventually asked, bringing his gaze back to the woman he loved.

'In a couple of days,' she answered, meeting his eyes. 'I still need to gather a few things for the journey and work on a plausible cover story.'

'So I guess these are the last nights we get to spend together,' he commented, giving her a suggestive look.

She smirked in response and gave her Mabari a look that meant 'Leave us alone, please'. The war hound took the hint and complied, trotting towards the heavy door. Milva went to let him out and closed the door behind her. She walked back to Alistair without letting go of his eyes and said with a smile:

'So I guess we have to make the most of them'

Hello dear reader!

Thank you for reading! This is my first attempt at writing fiction in English so feedback is very welcome. The story is a translation (with story edits) from my fanfic in French "La Poisse Divine" (Divine bad luck). I am re-writing this whole DAI fic in English, with major changes from the initial story. I uploaded this as an OS as a test.

Truckette