Alright, so I switched it up a bit guys. I decided to stop writing from Mikl's point of view, and write in third person.

It just seems easier with all the point of view switches that are going to be coming up.

'Alistair! No!' Mikl repeated it over and over in his head. This wasn't about to happen. He couldn't lose him now. His body reacted on it's own. He ran, faster than he had ever ran before. He had caught up to him, and was passing him. 'Maker, please, please, let me get there before him. He can't die now.' He thought to himself. He grabbed a sword from one of his fallen allies. He was going to make it. Leaping, the sword made contact. He tore through the beast's throat, and it let out a blood curdling howl.

"Mikl! Don't do it!" Alistair screamed from behind him. But it was already too late. He drove the sword through the Archdemon's head. A bright light began to surround the creature and himself. An explosion rang through the air.

Down below, the Darkspawn began to scatter. The Archdemon was killed; they had no leader. They retreated underground. The war was over; the blight was over. Ferelden was saved. But at what cost?

Alistair fell to his knees. How could it have come to this? Why did it have to be him, the only friend he'd had since Ostagar. The only man alive that knew almost everything about him. His head fell into his hands, and Oghren placed a hand on his shoulder. Wynne went to the fallen Warden's side.

"Excuse me," Wynne attempted to get the two men's attention. Both of them ignored her and continued their mourning. She shook her head and stated to their deaf ears,

"He's still alive."

A few months passed, and things in Ferelden began to return to normal. Though no one had yet forgotten about the great deed our heroes did. The Hero of Ferelden had slain the Archdemon, and saved his country. The two Grey Wardens had single handedly united Ferelden, and won the war against all odds. Alistair was crowned King, and a large parade was in his honor. Everyone form their company was their, except for two.

Morrigan had left right after the battle, no one had heard from her since. And Mikl, he hadn't yet recovered. No one was quite sure if he ever would. But Alistair was hopeful. Mikl was kept in the finest quarters, with the best of the best attending to him in his still unconscious state. Days continued to pass, then weeks.

Everyone was giving up hope.

Alistair sat in the King's Quarters, reading over some paperwork. But his mind was elsewhere. He was worried about Mikl.

"He's been in this state too long." He thought to himself. "The doctors and mages all said he should have woken up long ago. But why isn't he?" Alistair shook his head, setting the papers down. He stood from his chair, and was about to head to the kitchen, when he remembered he was clad only in his sleepwear. Scratch that, he was only in the pants of his sleepwear. He was about to turn from the door, when he heard a light knock ring from the other side. He contemplated opening it shirtless. What if it was a Noble, or someone of the sort. He shook his head, and reached for the door handle anyways, turning it and swinging the door open slightly.

"Yes?" He stated, yawning slightly and rubbing an eye. It was dark out in the hallway, so he couldn't see the person clearly. The person had no response, so he opened the door a little more. He was about to ask the person a question when they moved.

"Alistair!" Mikl yelled, embracing the man in a hug. Alistair was shocked for a moment. 'Who in the castle could this possibly be?' He thought to himself. He then got a glimpse of the person's face, and grinned to himself.

"Mikl!" he yelled with excitement. "You're awake! But, How, When?!" He couldn't seem to form the words right.

"Don't hurt yourself, Stair!" Mikl joked, unleashing the man from his grasp. "Well, my King, what have I missed?" He teased the new King. Alistair made a face that made Mikl hold his arms up in defense.

"Calm down, calm down! I was only joking!" He yelled, grinning his normal dopey grin. Alistair shook his head, and leaned against the desk in his room.

"You have not missed much. There was a parade in our honor, my coronation, after that, it's been paperwork and complaints." Alistair wracked his brain for anything excited that happened, while Mikl sat on the bed and pouted.

"I missed a parade! No fair, you should have waited!" He practically screamed at Alistair. Alistair was about to protest, when he noticed Mikl looking as if he were about to faint.

"Er, Mikl, maybe you should lay down…" He suggested, worried for the younger man. Mikl shook his head, and looked up at Alistair with a charming smile.

"I'm fine, Stair!" He said, laughing slightly. "You worry too much! You sound like my mothe-" He cut himself off, closing his eyes for a second. "Mother.." Mikl shook his head, and once again smiled at Alistair. But Alistair could tell there was pain behind that smile. It wasn't his normal, charming smile; It was fake. Alistair took in a gulp of breath, and readied himself for any reaction, for he was about to ask a very personal question.

"Er, Mikl…" He said quietly. "When D-Duncan and I came to find you in Denerim, I was wondering.. H-how exactly did your family become servants to the Arl…?" Alistair looked at the younger man, awaiting a response. The only response he received though, was a soft snore from the bed. Alistair shook his head, chuckling to himself. He stood, making his way quietly to the bed, and on his way grabbing one of the spare blankets. He placed it on top of the man, and smiled to himself.

"Goodnight, Mikl." He whispered, and strode out of the room, to go rest in the guest's quarters.

So, I've seemed to have done it again, and hurt my ankle, so this story will be updating quite quickly. That is, if I don't decide to pick up my guitar for a little bit. But please, rate and review!