(This chapter is utter unabashed cute boys fluff, in both prose and dialogue. Perfectly SFW but you may giggle out loud. The last three chapters have been very heavy -interjected with Alistair fluff, but gollygeewhiz it was bloody- so this is written in a lighter tone for a change. I'll get back to the blood and death and plot soon enough. It's a promise.)

1

Cullen fidgeted in front of Ellyn's old room. After the incident, they had her room curtain replaced, but she never stayed in it again. Not until tonight. She was behind this curtain and he felt like a total fool of a statue standing in front of it.

Mages had to be guarded, right? He was the only templar left for guard duty, right? So, it made sense that he was standing here in front of her room, right?

Right.

What was he here for? To apologize for running away when she was attacked? To thank her for all she had done? She saved all she could, even salvaged his sanity when she could have simply left. Cullen stood in front of her door curtain, unable to turn back, and unable to think up an excuse to talk to her.

It opened with a whoosh.

"Ser Cullen, if you're going to stand guard, you can stand …" Ellyn pushed him inside her room and guided him to a spot right next to a vanity table, "right here."

"Uh..." The stuttering was back.

"My curtain doesn't reach the floor." She beamed at him, as he quickly turned crimson. "You've been standing there for a full twenty minutes. The suspense was killing me."

Cullen didn't know where to look, so he stared straight ahead. Where did he leave his helm? He wished he had his helm.

"You haven't changed at all, Cullen." She picked a random spot on the wall behind him to look at. "You stepped off Kester's boat and just stood there turning as red as your hair."

"You...remember?" Cullen's eyes went wide. As long as she wasn't looking at him, he was able to keep his gaze on her. "I thought..."

"When I saw a looking glass later, my forehead was covered in mud. I thought you must have been embarrassed for me." She stole a glance at him and he immediately looked away.

"I … I wasn't …"

She put a hand to his lips. "I guess I was just never sure. All these years. About me, about you, about anything, really. I mean, I was locked up here. I have no experience to compare anything to. And ... you know, before our conversation when you were in that blood cage, we never really talked to each other."

"It … it would be inappropriate." Cullen set his expression into that of a guard.

Ellyn almost rolled her eyes at him, but thought better of it. The more she pushed, the more he retreated into his shell. "I saw you in the Fade. Well, a demon pretending to be you."

"You … did?" It was a confession from her, of sorts. Demons would not bother tempting her with something she did not care about.

"I knew it wasn't you because you're a good templar." She shrugged. "You're honourable and responsible. You never even tried to talk to me. The Fade version of you started talking about running away with me and I just about kicked it."

Cullen chuckled at the thought of Ellyn kicking a demon, caught himself, and turned redder. "I would never …"

"I know." Ellyn focused on the center of his breastplate. "That's … that's what I love about you."

There they stood, seemingly for an eternity, her staring at the cross on his armour and him at the top of her head, caught in complete awkwardness in the throes of first love. She broke the silence by tapping on his gauntlet with one hand, "it's really stupid of me, really. I like you because you're a good templar who won't run away with me. You understand the meaning of duty." She pursed her lips, "and I think I have come to understand it too."

Cullen nodded. She was standing very close for a conversation. She was expecting him to kiss her, he surmised, but he couldn't possibly. He was a templar. He was never this close to her before. Each time he saw her in the past, she turned away. It surprised him to know that she was probably blushing as hard as he was.

"I don't even know what you like about me. I was covered in mud, and I probably came off as a selfish little brat who's nothing but trouble." She knew she was babbling, but she could not help herself. "I can talk your face off, but it changes nothing. I'm still a mage, and you're still a templar..."

"You're not selfish."

"I'm sorry?" She wasn't expecting him to talk at all.

"You came back to save the Circle when you could have left us all to die. You saved me from certain madness. I thought I escaped the demons, but I couldn't get away from one of my own making." Cullen went on, not stuttering. He practised this speech when he was deciding on what to say to her when he saw her. He forced himself to look her in the eyes. "Thank you."

It was now Ellyn who was fidgeting. "When you were in that cage, you said that you were going to forget all about me. Did you mean it?"

Cullen imagined he heard a hint of sadness in her voice. "I … I don't know. I said a lot of things."

"Can I do something incredibly selfish right now?" She sought his gaze.

Cullen felt the crease deepen in between his eyebrows. What was one to make of that question? "Um … yes?"

Ellyn raised her arms and slipped her hands behind his neck, slowly, tentatively. He saw that she was shaking, and the face in front of him, with her lips quivering ever so slightly, revealed just how terrified she was. His heart raced.

She pressed her lips to his, and his arms wrapped around her instinctively, naturally, as if that was where they belonged. He heard the clatter of his plate mail pressing on the stone wall behind him, felt the pressure as she leaned on his chest. He resisted the urge to pull off his gauntlets to run his hands along her back, years of Chantry training shouting 'no' in his ears. Love is not a sin, Ser Cullen.

When he thought he couldn't possibly tear away from her, she pulled away. She stood still with her forehead against his breastplate, her hands on either side of her head, balled into fists. Cullen slid his arms back into guarding position at his sides; if anyone came in right now, she looked for the world as if she was crying on his chest.

"I'm sorry," Ellyn mumbled, not looking up at him, "I just couldn't stand the thought of being forgotten … by you." She backed away a little. Cullen knew that this was his chance. If he wished it, he could pull her into his arms, and she would yield to him. For once, they were alone.

There was a contradiction. If he did give in, he would not be the Cullen she loved. He stared straight in front of him, stoic as a statue. The seconds ticked by, and when he thought that she deemed enough time had passed, she met his eyes. There was a familiar sparkle in them that he recognized with a start. It was the way she had always looked at him since the very first day they met in the herb garden.

"Goodbye, Ser Cullen. May the Maker watch over you." Ellyn crossed her arms in front of her and bowed. When she opened the curtain and stepped through it, the rustling of the cloth had a finality that made his chest ache. Quiet, silken footsteps on stone faded away, and she was gone.

She need not have bothered with the kiss, he thought. It would have been impossible to forget her anyhow. Cullen leaned on the wall behind him and closed his eyes; she smelled of mint and honey, when she pulled away her eyes were heavy-lidded, her countenance burned into his mind's eye forever.

2

"You're smiling." Mythal had many expressions, even though it was hard to read her sometimes. In the beginning Anders saw Ellyn mirrored in them, but he was no longer sure. "Smirking, even. What are you thinking about?"

"Do you know Cullen well?' She looked as though she was about to descend into a fit of giggles.

"Other than the fact that he stutters a lot and Ellyn has a crush on him? No." Anders did not make a habit of making friends with templars. "He's probably even more boring than he looks. Why?"

"You know how everyone has a sanctuary in the Fade? Yours is a summer cottage with eternal twilight and open fields of grass." Her control was breaking and she slapped her thigh a couple of times to stifle the coming laughter, "what do you suppose Cullen's is?"

Anders did not need to think. "A Chantry."

She rolled over onto the grass. "Oh, I shouldn't laugh. The boy has had enough suffering already. You are a terrible influence. Nothing is sacred to you."

"That's because nothing is sacred," Anders winked at her. "Just because everybody else thinks so doesn't mean it's true."

"Life is sacred," Mythal pointed out. "You're fond of living."

"If I'm not fond of living," Anders gave her a baffled look, "it kind of makes everything else a moot point, doesn't it?"

"You don't know that."

"Death is final, at least as far as I know. I enjoy living. Can we drop this? Being mostly dead is depressing."

"What would you give to live?"

Anders passed his harrowing years ago. This was something he heard often. From demons. "I don't make deals with spirits. Mages always end up with the short end of the stick."

"I am no demon, Anders." Mythal crossed her arms and tried her best to look insulted.

"You are a spirit, and I don't even know what kind of spirit you are. 'Mythal' doesn't mean anything." He glared right back.

"It meant something to the People." She was almost sad, then. A goddess, forgotten. "I'll give you a gift. Think of it as a peace offering, no deal required. I just need you to accept it."

Let it be known that Anders had a weakness against sad looking Ellyn look-a-likes. It wasn't a deal, he told himself. He was giving nothing away, and so he nodded.

Mythal held one hand in front of her chest and a blue glow appeared, spreading from where her heart should be onto her palm. Gently, she pushed it into his hands. A tingling warmth spread through him, reaching all the way to his heart.

"What did you do?" The Fade rippled; the air around him felt empty and the sky turned white. The cottage disappeared, replaced by the broken roads of the Fade.

"I give you the knowledge of spirits. It comes with a knowledge of the Fade, and the ability to recognize demons. They can't fool you." Her form shifted and changed in front of his eyes. "Neither can I."

Mythal was taller than Ellyn; she was ethereal, a being of swirling mist. Her ears were Elven, her eyes large and green, raven hair tumbled over her back all the way down to her ankles. "Wow. You know you really didn't need to hide that." Anders whistled.

"One more gift. You're now a spirit healer." She smiled at him, pale and serene, ignoring his ogling. "If you must know, Ellyn asked me to give you aid before you leave. I will cast your healing spells for you when you call."

Anders felt his jaw drop. "According to my studies, doesn't that mean I can be possessed by spirits at the drop of a pin?"

"No. Only I, and I will only do so if your life is in danger." She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Unless, of course, you choose to make a deal with another spirit."

"One is enough, thank you." He wondered what the catch was.

"You're probably wondering what I'm taking from you. So I will tell you now." Mythal tilted her head in a familiar way that Ellyn did, "trust. That is all. I want you to trust us. It will be easier for you to do that once you can see my true form."

"Who is 'us'? You and Ellyn?" Anders shook his head to clear it. There was a sensation in his limbs as if insects were crawling in his marrow. It was getting harder to concentrate on her words.

"No." Mythal took a step closer to him. It looked like a single step to Anders, but she was behind him in an instant, her hands clasped to his shoulders, pushing him. He had a sensation of being jolted out of his skin, and then -

"Anders!" Ellyn exclaimed as she saw his eyes open. Her hands were over his heart, healing energy coursing through them. There were bags under her eyes, he noted. "Here, drink this."

He took the shallow bowl out of her hand and drank the concoction. It was minty and sweet. There was strength in his arms, which surprised him. Anders swung his legs off the bed and stood. Whatever spell Ellyn used to hold him in the Fade also replenished his strength. "What is this? It's the best potion of yours I've ever tasted!" Ellyn's potions usually tasted of roots and leaves.

"It's mint tea." A smile spread across her face, banishing the fatigue etched into it by months of travelling. "Oh, Anders!" She threw his arms around him and buried her face in his chest. Anders wrapped his arms around her and nudged her forehead with his; a habit from when they were children. It made her giggle, then almost immediately the corners of her mouth turned down and she began to cry, pressing her face into his chest with wrecking sobs.

"Tell me all about it." He patted her head and whispered assurances until she stopped shaking, the front of his robe soaked with tears. She told him of the blood mage Jowan and how he tricked her into destroying his phylactery; being recruited into the Grey Wardens by Duncan; their battle and betrayal in Ostagar; Uldred, the Circle broken, and the death of Ser Clara. At the mention of Clara, her tears began anew.

"I feel like I'm losing everyone. Mythal said you have to leave too." Ellyn was looking a bit of a mess. She tried so hard not to cry, but when she finally did, there were simply too many things to cry about.

"I can't exactly travel with you while the templars are hunting me, Ellyn." He laid down, pulling her into the bed beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It really sounds like you're better off without me, anyway..."

"How can you say that? You're my brother!" She thumped his chest with one fist. "I missed you so much."

From the very first day they met, he knew as long as he was the only one she opened up to, she would need him. "Because you are going to stay six years old forever if you stay with me."

"I don't want to lose you too!"

Anders sat up and pulled her into his lap, resting his chin on top of her head. "Listen. You're never, ever going to lose me. That's a promise. No matter where I am, no matter ... who you're with or who I'm with, even when you marry – and it better not be a templar - or have kids," she shook her head adamantly, "I will love you. Always."

She allowed herself to be coddled for a time. "How can you be so sure about everything?"

"I'm not sure about anything." He laughed into her hair, "but I promised to be your brother. You can lose friends, boyfriends, husbands even, but never brothers."

3

In the dead of night, Ellyn and her templar escort boarded Kester's boat. The wind had died for now, making the trip uneventful. She knew where Alistair would have set up camp, so she went another way, into the Spoiled Princess Inn. After paying for a room, she waited until the innkeep's back was turned before leaving through the back door.

"How do they wear this stuff day in and day out? Argh." Anders struggled out of the layers of plate, leaving only the robe underneath. Sweat poured down his face. He rubbed the back of his head where the helm was pushing into his ponytail and giving him a headache. "It weighs a ton! That's with a heroic aura!"

"They train in it, so they're all rippling muscles." Like Alistair, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue.

Anders raised an eyebrow, tipped his chin and gave her a quizzical look. "So ... Mythal and I were talking about Cullen."

Ellyn's cheeks turned red, "what about Cullen?"

"Did something happen with Cullen?" She shook her head. "Are you SURE?" Ellyn shut her eyes. "No, really. I'd be glad if something did. The tower's empty, right? Don't tell me he did nothing."

Her eyes snapped open in surprise. "I ... um ... kissed him in my chambers."

"That's it?" Anders waved his arms above his head, incredulous. "Let me get this straight. You and Cullen make googly eyes at each other for three sodding years, and then when the entire tower empties out and you can be alone for once, you got him into your room and all you did was kiss him?"

Ellyn winced and the word came out in a whimper, "... yes?"

"Maker's breath, I should have raised you better." Anders covered his mouth with one hand, unsure whether to laugh or to cry. It's my bloody fault she's a maid; I wanted to keep her to myself so badly I kept all the boys away from her. "I was hoping that you'd lose your maidenhood to a man you love. You do love Cullen?"

She nodded, twiddling her fingers. "He's not like you, Anders. He'd never..."

Anders was tired of this charade; if only he hadn't promised to be her brother. If only. But even if he had loved her as a man, he would have had to leave her anyway. His own feelings were ambiguous but for one thing: he was sick of being selfish and he wanted her to be happy. He wasn't even going to be around her all the time anymore, to dry her tears, to make her laugh, to drive away her nightmares. He had to let someone else love her.

She had grown so much in two months. Two months in the world, without him fussing over her, and she was ... at least twelve now. He chuckled a little at that. Two more months and she might even act her age. "Ellyn, you need to live a little. Life is short. From what you've told me, yours just got shorter. Make friends, fall in love, see the world."

Ellyn wrapped her arms around his waist, buried her head in his chest, and she was six again. He allowed it. This was goodbye, at least for a while. "I have something for you." She reached into the giant pack she carried from the chest in his little room in the cellar. "I made this when you were in solitary. It helped to pass the time, and I thought it might be useful."

Anders unwrapped the rough spun cloth. Inside was a Tevinter magister's robe with raven feather pauldrons. The robe was blue silk, smooth under his hands, ribbed gold embroidery embellishments decorated it throughout. Instead of the long sleeves of Circle robes, it had matching gloves, and in place of the simple belt he was used to, it had complex looking leather wraps and some sort of leather girdle that doubled as armour. It wasn't that he doubted her, and it wasn't that he didn't think she was capable, but.

Raven feathers. An old memory surfaced; a hayloft, little Ellyn. A rain of raven feathers. The sight of the pauldrons unsettled him like a bad omen, "You made this?"

"Owain made most of it," she admitted. Owain was the Tranquil in charge of the Circle's storeroom. "I found the pattern in one of the library's books. It's easy to recognize a circle mage, but no one bothers a Tevinter magister, right? I sewed the feathers on myself. The rest needs more concentration than I'm capable of. Do you like it?"

"It's almost as gorgeous as I am," Anders flashed her a wicked smile. She made a face as of throwing up. "Really! I will treasure it always."

"You might want to grow a beard and dye your hair black. Blonde isn't a Tevinter colour."

"Never." Anders ran a hand through his hair protectively, "Anderfels is close enough to the Tevinter Imperium that I shouldn't have that many problems. Besides, I went to enough classes to learn my Tevinter."

"Oh, there's something else." Ellyn ran off to a shed on one side of the inn, and came back with a staff. "I hid this here yesterday. It completes your disguise."

"Where did you get a Tevinter magister's staff?" Anders was amazed. Imperial goods were not easy to come by.

"Off a Tevinter magister." He stared. She shrugged, "what? We were in Denerim hunting blood mages, and one of them happened to be a magister."

"You took on a blood mage?"

"We took on a house full of blood mages, along with traps and assassins." Ellyn obviously loved this fight, by her excited tone. "I'm travelling with a templar -" Oops. Her hand went to her mouth.

The Anders cat looked as though he swallowed a whole pigeon. "A templar? Is he cute?" Ellyn paused for a second, then nodded ever so slightly. Well, he wouldn't be around to play matchmaker, so Maker help them. He sighed, "if you ever decide that you like him, please don't stop at kissing. You're nearly eighteen."

"We're not like that," she stared at the ground and shifted her weight from one foot to another. That meant she was unsure but she was definitely hiding something.

"Since they're always wearing head to toe armour at the Circle and all..." Anders pattered on, watching her face, "I wonder where you got the idea that templars have rippling muscles."

Ellyn blushed furiously and stood so still she might have been petrified.

"Fine, fine. I'll stop teasing you. Come here." She hugged him as if her life depended on it. He was her last connection to her old life. Ser Clara, dead. Cullen, left behind. Anders; the first voice she remembered, the boy who carried her to bed when she scraped her knees, the man who jolted her back to humanity when she lost control. He developed in her a dependency that she knew she needed to be rid of before she could grow, but it was so ingrained, so part of her, that without him she feared losing herself.

"Where will you go?" She whispered into his chest.

"Around. Eventually I'll have to go North like everyone else. With the ward you've put on that door, no one can get in there. They'll think I'm still in the cellar. So unless I get spotted – and since I'm such a handsome devil, that is highly likely – I probably have some time to roam. Maybe I'll go to Tevinter." He gave her one last squeeze before letting her out of his embrace, "freedom awaits. By the way, if you're still a maid by the next time I see you, I swear I'm dragging you to the Pearl."

Ellyn tilts her head, "what's the Pearl?"

"You've been to Denerim and haven't heard of the Pearl?" What were older brothers for, if not to torment little sisters? "You should ask your templar friend that. Maybe have him take you there. It's a ... famous landmark."

4

Alistair was surprised to see Ellyn sitting at the campfire with Leliana, giggling away. "I thought you were staying at the tower tonight."

Ellyn turned her head in his direction and he thought she might have been blushing in the light of the roaring file. "You're right. Too many dead bodies. The veil's so thin there I'd probably be attacked by shades in my sleep." Her expression turned pensive, "and I don't have a guard in the tower anymore."

Leliana gave her hand a squeeze and made a quick exit to her tent, gesturing for Alistair to sit down before she walked away. He waited until she was out of earshot. "I'm sorry. About everything."

"What for?" Some people might ask that as a rhetorical question, but not Ellyn. "You're not the one who summoned a demon and nearly killed everyone in the tower. Uldred did."

"It's something people say when other people are sad. About a loss," her lack of knowledge of the common sense hadn't ceased to surprise him yet, but he was glad to teach her something.

"Ah. Well, thank you." They were silent for a time. Alistair was close enough to see the redness around her eyes and on the tip of her nose.

"I was hoping we could talk," it was time to clear the air. She looked perplexed. "First of all, I'm not really a templar. I was trained as a templar but I was never in the Order. I wasn't sent to kill you if you turn into an abomination or anything like that -"

"Would you though?"

Alistair nearly fell over. "What?"

"Ser Clara told me that's what a templar's job is. To protect a mage 'from within and without,'" she said, playing with a leaf absentmindedly as if she was talking about shoes and not for Alistair to strike her down if she lost control. "She said that some things are worse than death."

"If that's what you want," Alistair felt his breath catch at the thought of ever hurting her in any way. "I ... uh ... listen." Though this might not be the best time, he could never forgive himself if she died today and he never said anything. "I've come to ... care for you. I know we haven't known each other for a very long time, but I just want you to know that, well, you can talk to me."

Ellyn stared. There was a measure of gratitude and understanding. Alistair did not believe that she actually read it as a confession, but more of brotherly concern. Her smile was bright when it broke across her face, the way she lit up at the prospect of cookies at the next town, or a hot bath when they reach Redcliffe. "Thank you, Alistair. I feel like a fool that I've been afraid of you all this time."

"That's because I'm fearsome. Knight in shining armour and all that." He said with mock bravado.

"I was attacked. By three templars. At the tower." Ellyn said with some reservation, "They died, and it gave me good reason to think that the Chantry may want to have me watched closely. So when you started using templar abilities, I made certain assumptions. I'm sorry I never asked. I should have, but ..." she shrugged.

"Wait, you took on three templars by yourself and killed them?" Alistair's eyesbrows went up.

"My brother showed up to save me, and he almost died." She said, her eyes evasive. "It doesn't really matter anymore. He said: make friends, fall in love, see the world. Friends?" She held out a hand.

Alistair shook it. It wasn't quite what he had in mind, but it was a good start. "You have a brother?"

"His name is Anders. We sort of ... adopted each other. He's gone too."

They stared into the fire for a time. Finally, she said, "well, I think I feel like a Grey Warden now."

"You've been a warden for two months. Everyone calls you 'Warden' like it's your name."

"Duncan said the Grey Wardens gave up everything to fight the blight – titles, family, all that." She explained. "I always carried my past around with me. I'm a Circle mage, I have a brother, and I've always treated Ser Clara like she was my mother, in spite of all the things she said. I guess I held out hope that one day, I can go home again." Ellyn tipped her head forward and wrapped her arms around her knees to hide her tears if she should cry. "I said all my goodbyes tonight."

Alistair moved closer. He silently wrapped one arm around her shoulders, tipping her against his side, and he held her until she stopped shaking. For all their misunderstandings, they were now united. The last two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden.

Two months ago, she thought life was predictable, boring, and safe. She had a place in the world, and though her status was a curse, she knew where she belonged. Now the only thing certain about Ellyn's life was change.