To our dismay, we arrived at Redcliffe only to be told the Horde was not, after all, heading in that direction, but instead was well on its way to Denerim. Only two days journey from the capital, in fact. Two days from the very city we had just left.

I quelled the frustration that raged within me, but only with great difficulty. How much time had we just wasted? How much energy and strength had been spent on unnecessary traveling - energy and strength that was direly needed for fighting Darkspawn. All because of bad judgement by our previous scouts.

Despite the burning urge to turn right around and begin marching immediately back toward Denerim, I suggested the armies stay the night at Redcliffe and rest as well as they could. One glance over the various units was enough to tell me the soldiers would be more effective with some kind of reprieve between these breakneck marches, however short of a reprieve it might be. Every second counted at this point, but it would do no good to arrive at Denerim with armies too tired to fight.

Still, I wasted no time in seeking out Riordan for our private Gray Wardens-only chat. His tone and somber expression worried me, winding my insides into even tighter knots. What could he possibly say to us now?

I met Alistair in the hall, and despite our last conversation and my recent decision, my heart still jumped at the sight of his broad-shouldered frame. I swallowed hard, attempting to slow my suddenly racing heart and quickened breathing. He fell silently into step beside me, his shoulders squared and head held high - every inch the figure of what a king should be. My chest squeezed at the thought and I resolutely focused my gaze on the cobbled floor beneath my feet.

The silence stretched out between us, awkward and uncomfortable, filled only by the soft tread of our boots on the stone.

This was why I had to leave, one way or another.

We reached Riordan's room and Alistair cleared his throat and turned to me, opening his mouth to say something.

I knocked loudly on Riordan's door, not wanting to give him the chance. I couldn't afford to second-guess myself, and neither could he.

"Come in," Riordan called from inside, and Alistair shut his mouth, shooting me a look of annoyance. I ignored him as I pulled open the heavy door and stepped over the threshold, leaving him to follow me.

He did so finally, and as he came to stand beside me I heard him utter a soft sigh.

"You're both here, good," Riordan said, moving to shut the door. Then he came to stand before us, straightening his shoulders in the way Elder Valendrian often had before telling us the humans had committed another injustice against a Denerim elf. I braced myself.

"You are new to the Gray Wardens," Riordan began, "and you may not have been told how an Archdemon is slain. I need to know if that is so."

Alistair grunted. "You mean there's more to it than, say, chopping off it's head?"

"So it is true. Duncan had not yet told you. I had simply assumed..." The senior Gray Warden trailed off, shaking his head. He crossed his arms, looking us over. "Tell me, have you ever wondered why the Gray Wardens are needed to defeat the Darkspawn?"

I glanced sideways to Alistair, saw him frowning. He clearly didn't like where the conversation was heading, either.

"I imagine it has something to do with the taint in us," I ventured, also crossing my arms.

Riordan lifted his dark brows. "That is exactly what it involves. The Archdemon may be slain, as any other Darkspawn, but should any other than a Gray Warden do the slaying it will not be enough." Riordan paced slowly in front of us, back and forth, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. "The essence of the beast will pass through the taint to the nearest Darkspawn and will be born anew in that body. The dragon is thus all but immortal. But if the Archdemon is slain by a Gray Warden, its essence travels into the Gray Warden instead."

I blinked, uncrossing my arms. My spine stiffened as understanding dawned.

Alistair shifted on his feet. "Well, that doesn't sound very good."

"A Darkspawn is an empty, soul-less vessel," Riordan acknowledged heavily, "but a Gray Warden is not. The essence of the Archedemon is destroyed, and... so is the Gray Warden."

Alistair stepped forward, his expression dark. "Meaning, the Gray Warden who kills the Archdemon... dies?" He choked out the last word in disbelief.

"Yes. Without the Archdemon, the Blight ends. It is the only way."

For a moment both Alistair and I were struck dumb, attempting to process this sudden and frightful news. And then the solution presented itself to me, cold and clear and absolute.

"Then I will be the one to make the final blow myself," I blurted.

Alistair startled, whirling to face me. "What! Absolutely not! I won't allow you to -"

"In Blights past," Riordan interjected loudly, cutting off Alistair's protests, "when the time came, the eldest of the Gray Wardens would decide which amongst them would take that final blow. If possible the final blow should be mine to make. I am the eldest and the taint will not spare me much longer. But if I fail, the deed falls on you two." He looked us both in the eyes, long and hard. "The Blight must be stopped now, or it will destroy all of Ferelden before the rest of the Gray Wardens can assemble. Remember that." He threw up a hand. "But enough of this talk. There will be plenty to do tomorrow and little enough time to rest before it. I will let you return to your rooms."

He walked to his door and opened it, waving us out.

Alistair nodded to the senior Gray Warden as he passed. "I will see you when the army is ready to march, then. I guess this ends soon... one way or another."

"That it does, my friend. That it does."

The door shut softly behind us, and we were once again alone in the hall. The strange and awkward silence fell over us once more. I hung back, waiting for Alistair to lead the way, but he hesitated. And I had nothing to interrupt him with this time. The hallways were empty, the castle eerily quiet.

"Kallian," he finally began, "I... I'm sorry for what I said in there. I didn't mean to presume to stop you from doing anything, especially since we are no longer... well, since we... decided to end it..."

If only things were that easy, I thought bitterly.

"And I don't doubt your skills," he offered quickly, "it's just that I... I don't want you to do anything... rash." To my surprise, he reached out and took my hands in his, and my skin tingled beneath his touch. I became painfully aware of the closeness of his body to mine - it felt as if there were physical electricity snapping between us.

"Please, Kallian," he whispered, "promise me you will let Riordan take the final blow if he is at all able. Please."

Despite myself I was quite touched by his concern. "Of course I will let him take first chance at it," I said easily. "But if he should fail then I should be the next to try. You have a duty as king now, Alistair. It will not help Ferelden if you are dead."

His jaw clenched.

"We should return to our rooms," I said, attempting to forestall the argument I saw building on his face. The sudden gap widening between us made his touch all the more difficult to bear. "As Riordan said, we have much to do tomorrow, and should rest as much as we are able." I freed my hands from his grasp and gave him a curt, formal nod. "Good night, Alistair."

It took a great deal of effort to turn away from him and move off alone down the hall toward my room, and an even greater effort to keep myself from looking back.

He did not try to stop me.

Alas, there was to be little rest for me that night.

I arrived at my room to find Morrigan standing by the hearth, waiting. When she announced that she thought it time for us to "talk", my hand slid down to grasp the haft of my mother's daggar. Morrigan had always been a mystery to me - her motivations were never quite clear and her attitude toward other living things made me hesitant to trust her completely. I kept her close to watch her, and though she had not yet done anything to outwardly betray any of us, I could not fight the suspicion that crept through my gut when I looked into those golden eyes. Had she somehow ferreted out the truth?

I was still not entirely sure it had been the right decision to let Flemeth escape, but it had seemed a wise thing to do at the time. Since returning from that journey, however, I had constantly wondered, in the back of my mind, when the Witch of the Wastes might discover she'd been decieved.

But it was not Flemeth she wanted to talk about.

Instead, she spoke of a "way out"... a way in which to prevent any Gray Warden from dying when the Archdemon was slain. My heart leapt with hope for a brief second before my mind caught up to the situation. If Riordan had not mentioned such a "way out", it meant the Gray Wardens did not know of such a thing - or if they did know about it, they had decided the gain was not worth the risk.

Either way, my inital optimism was drowned in a rushing tide of doubt. Nevertheless, I bade her to continue her explanation. Curiosity and a small, if desperate, hope pushed back against my suspicions.

Morrigan gave me an appreciative nod, then walked slowly toward my bed as she went on. "What I propose is this," she said in her silky, lilting tones, "convince Alistair to lay with me. Here, tonight."

A strangled noise escaped me and I took a step back, the words hitting as hard as a physical blow. Of anything she could have possibly said, such a suggestion was certainly the very last thing I ever would have expected to come from her mouth.

Morrigan sat on the end of my bed, seemingly oblivious to my reaction. "And from this ritual, a child will be conceived within me."

My mouth fell open, but words utterly failed me.

"The child will bear the taint," Morrigan continued, as casually as if we were simply discussing the weather, "and when the Archdemon is slain, its essence will seek the child like a beacon. At this early stage, the child can absorb that essence and not perish. The Archdemon is still destroyed, with no Gray Warden dying in the process."

I struggled to find a way to voice the tumble of emotions roiling in my chest. "That... that is your plan?" I finally spat. "Are you insane? What happens to the child then, does it become a Darkspawn?"

Morrigan smiled patiently. "Not at all. The child will be born with the soul of an Old God, but without the corruption that makes Darkspawn evil. Just think about what I offer you. A chance to avoid death, or better yet, a chance to slay the Archdemon and live as a hero. No Gray Warden has ever done this. In return, I conceive a child. And after this is done, you allow me to walk away, and you do not follow. Ever. The child will be mine to raise as I wish."

I blinked, my temples beginning to throb. The implications of her proposal were staggering. Beyond just the horrifying thought of Alistair having to bed her, and the difficulty I forsaw in convincing him to do such a thing, there was the question of what exactly she planned to do with this child once it was grown. And how powerful would it be? And how much would she be able to influence it? Was it possible she would follow in Flemeth's footsteps and someday try to possess the god-child herself? Would she be content to stay unseen in the Wilds with this god-child of hers, or would she someday seek to take over and rule all of Thedas?

I narrowed my gaze. "And what would you do with this child, once it was born?"

She lifted her chin. "That is my own business."

I frowned, chewing my lip. Too many questions. Too many unknowns. To replace one monster with the threat of another... It's just too dangerous.

Morrigan abruptly stood from the bed, making my fingers tighten around Fang's haft. But she merely strode past me to gaze into the fire, crossing her arms. "If you would not do it for yourself, than consider doing it for Alistair." She glanced back at me over her shoulder. "He cares for you a great deal. Do you really think he will let you sacrifice yourself when the time comes? And being king was not his idea. Do you trust him to not do something foolish there, in the heat of battle, when he sees the opportunity to both save your life and end his sovereignty?"

I swallowed hard, remembering his reaction to my statement about taking the final blow and the argument he'd wanted to make in the hallway afterward. Morrigan was right in that regard... I realized suddenly that I fully expected him to attempt to kill the Archdemon himself if Riordan failed.

My resolve against Morrigan's offer wavered. A part of me thrilled at not having to be doomed to certain death, at being able to know that even if Riordan failed, and even if for some reason I could not prevent Alistair from slaying the Archdemon, he would be safe.

But then I looked again at Morrigan, saw her watching me with those steady golden eyes, remembered her love of power. A god-child in her possession, or under her influence, had the potential to be disasterous. What good would it do to put a king on the throne, unite Fereldan once more, and stop the Blight now only to have Morrigan destroy everything later? I would not be responsible for that.

I was doomed to die an early death already - what was the difference in dying a little earlier to save so many lives?

I shook my head. "No," I whispered. "No, I'm sorry, I cannot agree to such a thing."

She spun to face me. "Do not let your foolish pride condemn you! No Gray Warden asked for the sacrifice that is now demanded of them, and I offer all of you a way out. Will you not reconsider?"

For a split second more I was tempted. But no, I just couldn't trust her... "No," I said. "That is my final answer."

Her face darkened, her mouth forming a hard line. "Then you are a fool," she growled, spinning back to face the fire. "I will not stand by and watch you waste this opportunity. Die, if you feel it is worthwhile, or be overshadowed. I care not."

I shook my head in dismay, knowing that we needed every body we could spare in the upcoming battle. "There is no reason you should have to leave, Morrigan."

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. "Would that I could have helped you," she said, with what sounded like genuine regret. Though whether that regret was for the potential loss of a Gray Warden or for her lost opportunity of having a god-child remained questionable. "That is your doing, however, not mine." She turned toward me once more. "Fare you well, my friend. I do what I must now, and so shall you."

She gave me a final nod, and strode for the bedroom door.

"Farewell, Morrigan," I murmured as she passed.

She gave one last look back, then vanished around the doorframe and was gone.