1

They departed from Denerim the next day. Staying in one place for too long was a risk they could not afford to take. Anders already warned Alistair of how well known they were already, and their location was no secret. It was a matter of time before the 'Regent' Loghain Mac Tir sent his mercenaries after them.

It was Ellyn's decision to investigate Levi Dryden's claims of the abandoned mining tunnels that led to an old Warden's Keep. She knew next to nothing about the Grey Wardens other than what Alistair knew – which wasn't much – and what she was able to feel on her own, namely the effects of the tainted blood. If there was a Grey Warden fortress at Soldier's Keep, she could not afford to pass up the opportunity.

There was always a possibility that they would fail on their journey, and the Blight would rage in Ferelden unchecked. If she could find documents on the Joining ritual, then the job of killing the Archdemon could fall on someone else. There was no guarantee; but if what Levi Dryden stated in his letter is correct, and the Wardens died with their besiegers at the Keep, then everything the Wardens needed to conduct the joining would still have been there.

"These are not exactly concise directions, my friend." Zevran looked over Ellyn's shoulder as they sat among their bedrolls surrounding a group of spell wisps. Ellyn only brought the mages, Zevran, and Alistair with her through the tunnels, leaving the rest of her friends with Levi out near an old inn a short walk near the entrance. As much as Levi could act as their guide, it was too risky to lead an unarmed man through the tunnels, or so she thought.

The tunnels were so clear of any danger that she might as well have brought Levi with her. It was almost too quiet, and too unguarded. Ellyn expected giant spiders at the very least, and yet halfway through the tangled map of tunnels marked by nothing but old tracks and stone cairns, they encountered nothing alive. It made her uneasy, to say the least. There was only one reason why even spiders did not inhabit this space – something much more dangerous was keeping them away.

'We're about halfway through, right here." Ellyn pointed to a red spot over the map, and gestured at a red mark on the wall that was mostly still intact. "If we start at about six bells we can arrive at the Keep by noon."

They did arrive, eventually, but it was not noon. With the sky overcast in a nondescript off-white and the sun's position indeterminate, it was hard to tell when it really was, aside from the hint of redness at the edge of the horizon all around them just beyond the trees that told of a sunset sky. The air smelled of electricity, blood, and dead old mouldy things.

A fortress stood ahead, its gates and towers built in the old Ferelden style – solid stone and unsplit timber, built to withstand the centuries. Its gatehouses stood thirty feet high, the masonry nearly perfectly preserved as if repaired everyday since the Glory age. The keep itself rivalled the size of Redcliffe castle, big enough to host an army of hundreds. A large set of stairs ahead ended in a small landing that led to a pair of solid oak doors reinforced with iron.

Alistair shifted his footing, pushing snow out of his way. Snow? It was the 3rd of cloudreach; it was beginning to feel warm in Denerim, green buds dotted the trees, signalling the emergence of spring. The tunnels they came from dipped and rose, so their altitude could have changed, but not likely by this much. He looked ahead of him to Ellyn, and she was doing the same thing, staring at the snow covering her feet in disbelief.

A halo outlined her figure, a thin glow of blue that glittered, disappearing whenever he focused on it, coming back into his vision just as soon as he looked away. Morrigan and Wynne, the other two mages, had the same aura effect around them, but theirs were less prominent, their connection to the Fade less direct. Before he had a chance to ask her what was going on, a vision of a battle unfolded before them.

Soldiers wearing the standard of Denerim surrounded the Keep, campfires dotted the small courtyard. There were sounds, of trees falling, wood being cut, and stone hoisting up the hill from whence they came, in the mines behind. A commander of Denerim shouted orders. There was a siege here, at some point in time, and the memories lingered.

"Skeletons!" Alistair rushed ahead of her just in time to feel the thudding of arrows as they embedded into his shield, Ellyn casting a barrier around both of them as she readied her weapons, releasing a quick mind blast that sent the skeletons nearest them to the ground.

"I'm going to buy us a bit of time, but it's going to be confusing." Ellyn sheathed her weapon after her few quick slashes to the bare bones of the undead proved ineffective. Instead, she reached out with her newly acquired spirit magic – those few spirit spells that she had stayed away from previously that was so close to blood magic that she refrained from using in public. With one wave of her hand, she raised a small skeleton army of her own, and they rushed out to meet the archers with bone-crushing maces. "Morrigan, now!"

A blizzard broke out over the already frigid landscape, freezing the skeletons in place. Wynne aimed her mana into the ground, and the resultant earthquake shattered the bonds that held the undead together. All that was left were little piles of bones in the snow.

"What, not going to leave me anything to kill?" Zevran twirled his daggers, stepping out from behind the two mages.

"Laying out traps is important too."

"Judging by all we encountered in those tunnels, I'd say we're probably fishing in a puddle. But I will do as it pleases you, my dear warden."

"Nevermind that." Alistair stared at Ellyn's shimmering blue aura, finally reaching out gingerly to touch it. "Am I seeing things?"

Ellyn waved one hand in front of her face, watching the aura following along casting trails as it moved. "The veil is ... torn."

Around them, bones lying amidst the snow began to stir. Zevran sprinted up the stairs and pulled the doors open. The rest of them followed, but not nearly as fast as the assassin. By the time Morrigan reached the doors, Wynne was starting to fall behind, the skeletons threatening to overwhelm her.

Ellyn ran halfway back down the stairs, casting a barrier on Wynne to keep the archers at bay, and turned a few of the skeletons for confusion before dashing through the doors herself. Alistair pulled Wynne through the doors quickly, the elderly mage nearly stumbled. Ellyn warded the door just in time. As soon as they were inside, the sound of the undead outside faded away.

They were greeted by vision after vision inside the keep, the scenes of Wardens being starved until weakness claimed them, while the soldiers laid siege to the castle; Avernus summoning demons in desperation when the siege finally broke; blood magic so powerful and costly, the veil torn in the process.

When Ellyn finally found Sophia Dryden's corpse, possessed by a demon, it surprised Alistair that she was willing to speak with it. Ellyn hadn't learned to hide her tells yet, and Alistair was not about to let her know what they were. It was a simple deal. Sophia would seal the veil, making the keep habitable again, and all Ellyn had to do was let her walk free.

Ellyn seemed to agree, and as she did, Alistair spotted the tell tale squint of her eyes, a second longer than necessary. She glanced back at Zevran, and the assassin tipped his chin up without meeting her eyes. Alistair felt a small pang of jealousy over the small, unspoken signal. This man had only been with them since just before their trip to the Brecillian Forest, and they already communicated without words.

Wynne and Morrigan seemed to have caught her signal as well, and said nothing. When Sophia finished sealing the veil, she turned as if to speak, and Zevran ran up with his twin daggers and separated her head from her body in one quick motion.

Ellyn picked up the head with both hands and set it next to the body with reverence. "Can we...?" She gave Alistair a plaintive look as she smoothed back a lock of hair from Sophia's face. It was a ghoul's face, rotting flesh hanging off its cheekbones, eyes glassy and sightless, but once upon a time, she was a beloved commander of the Grey.

"Of course." Alistair sat down next to her and began stripping the armour off Sophia Dryden, finally leaving her in her gambeson and leather breeches. "Where do you want to do this?"

"With the veil repaired, we can go outside now. No more skeletons. Well, no more skeletons that get up to attack us." Ellyn turned to the mages and the assassin resting by the fireplace, "we'll be back. Warden business."

The Wardens discovered that it was mid afternoon, the sun no longer hovering at the horizon, the illusion of sunset gone with the veil repaired. They left Sophia in the middle of the courtyard while they gathered firewood. It took them nearly an hour to find enough dry wood amongst all this snow to build a pyre. Ellyn handed Alistair one small lit branch with her limited magic, and the pile of half-dry wood roared into flames, crackling and popping as the moisture turned to steam.

The last two Wardens of Ferelden stood in front of the fire, and neither of them knew what to say. There ought to have been a rite in the passing of a warden, but the knowledge was lost to them. When she was younger, Mythal called her a 'fledgeling' as a form of endearment before she learned other terms. She never felt more of a fledgeling than she did now, in a silent funeral with the only brother she was allowed to have. She reached for his hand and held it as she stood by his side, and though she was sure he looked her way as she did so, she kept her gaze ahead until the body of Sophia Dryden was dust, lost to the high winds of Soldier's Peak.

Ellyn turned to him, finally, and spoke so softly her voice was barely audible, "if I die -" Alistair placed a finger in front of her lips to silence her, and he nodded once, solemnly.

2

Avernus wasn't evil. Not exactly. Pride demons did funny things to people, though of course it took a prideful person to consider making a deal with one. The most powerful of all emotions, it blinded him to all else, made him consider his cause 'just' regardless of the price, in spite of the atrocities he brought to his fellow wardens. Ellyn had to remind herself that she needed him, and that it was not her place to judge. Anything to end a blight, even sparing a blood mage.

She cursed her luck as she needed him, at least until the blight was over, and judging by how long blights lasted in the past, it could be a hundred years. He said he did not have much time, that his extended stay in the keep was near over, but she was not so sure. Perhaps he only told her that so she would spare his life; she ended Sophia's, she could end his easily enough, and he could see that, if blinded to all else.

Avernus knelt and waited for her sword to fall. Ellyn turned around and sent the others to wait for her near the entrance; whatever her decision here, it was 'warden business.'

In the end, she allowed him to live, on the condition that his research would be ethical, though how he would hold to that promise, she did not know. The man might not be capable of telling good from evil anymore. Ellyn knew, deep in that part of her that judged herself more harshly than anyone else could judge her, that she was being weak. There was every reason to kill this mage, but there was always a chance that he'd change.

If one stayed alive, there was always the chance for redemption. He surrendered. He was ready to face her judgement if she chose to execute him, and she could not. It was the one thing that she was not quite capable of, as a vessel of compassion.

Not for the first time, she felt cursed by her magic. Her and him both.

"I cannot kill a brother." She pulled the old man up, he was light, his life stretched out beyond his natural years, and the calling should have claimed him long ago, if not old age. "Can you conduct the joining here?"

"You wish to rebuild the order." Avernus stood straight and proud, eyes calculating. "If that was the reason you wish to spare me, then you need only say so."

Ellyn's eyebrows came together and Alistair felt the anger rising off of her, an under layer of magic unmistakable as she allowed her control to fall away just enough to show Avernus the power she held. It leaned toward creation, but she held considerable power nonetheless.

If there was one thing that Avernus was willing to respect, it was magic. "We can conduct the Joining here. I have all the documents detailing the process, as well as the necessary ingredients, but you will have to provide the darkspawn blood. It's not any good unless it's ... fresh, you see."

"Thank you, Avernus," her expression went back to her usual, bright sunny smile. Alistair was almost disturbed by the change in her demeanour. It was hard for him to tell, sometimes, whether the mask she wore at battle was her true self, and this sunny disposition an act. He shook the notion away, annoyed at his own suspicions. He followed as she led them to a dilapidated table, dragging over three chairs. "Now that it's only the three of us, I'd like you to tell us about the Grey Wardens, the Taint, and the Blight. Tell us everything you know."

3

Morrigan dozed in one dusty corner; Wynne sat mending something by the fire; Zevran was searching the rest of the tower for any supplies left behind. They were not speaking to one another, or even near one another, when Ellyn and Alistair reentered the great room. Wynne's expression grew concerned at Ellyn's sullen look, and the young mage smiled and shook her head. She did not want to talk about it.

She could not talk to anyone about it, save Alistair, and she did not want to talk to him. The issue was rather simple, really. To end the Blight, one of them had to die. Small sacrifice, no matter how one considered it. What was one life when compared to the entirety of Thedas?

Mythal would never allow her to give up her life, and Ellyn reluctantly admitted that she did not want Alistair to give up his, either. She did not want to talk, for she knew Alistair would tell her that he would make that final blow himself. He had proven time and time again whenever she was in danger, he jumped in front of her and willingly acted as her shield. He would gladly be her shield until the very end.

What would you give to save him? I can save him, if you want me to. I can protect the both of you.

Ellyn shut the whispers out of her mind, for now, and unpacked her bedroll. There was already a fire in the hearth, and the room was warm enough. She warded the door to Avernus's tower, just in case. The old mage was not about to leave, for that room provided the source of his life force, but she was not going to take any chances.

She chuckled to herself a little. She was no less dangerous herself, and she brought an apostate and an abomination with her. It was a strange gathering indeed, even the monstrous blood mage upstairs was not out of place.

What had magic ever given her? It was a curse. Perhaps that mad apprentice in the Circle Tower was right; only a templar's blade could bring her peace. She wished for an end, as she always had. Death was never far from her mind, and she never, ever truly feared it. She feared losing other people, she feared being the one to watch her friends die, but for her own end, she was not afraid. Unlike most Andrastians, she knew what the 'void' meant.

The void meant nothing at all. It meant peace, rest, cessation of life. There was no Maker the spirits knew of, save Fen'Harel. The Golden City was never golden. Blasphemous ideas in Thedas, but Mythal did not remember a Maker, though she remembered everything since the beginning of time.

The goddess would never let her go until her purpose was done, and that purpose extended beyond the Blight, until then, no matter how much pain life was for her, she had to live.

What would you give to save Alistair?

No games, Mythal. Name your price, thought Ellyn. It was always going to be more than it was worth, since the Fade always took more than it gave.

Give him your heart.

She thought of Cullen and their stolen kiss in the tower. Cullen, her unattainable knight. He was awkward and sweet, with his resilient, perfect spirit. Ellyn took his heart that night and knew that she would keep it, more than just as a remembrance of first love - his heart was a token, a favor, and she wore it over her own.

In a year you will forget his face, the colour of his eyes, the feel of his lips. You loved him with a little girl's heart, da'len. There is much for us to accomplish, and to do so, you must learn to love.

Ellyn turned in her bedroll so she could see Alistair. He sat by the light of the fire, cleaning Sophia Dryden's armour. It was made of dragonbone, with massive winged pauldrons, obviously meant for a warrior. Wade would probably have to adjust all the straps for it to fit Ellyn, who was both shorter and smaller in stature. She moved her gaze upwards to rest on Alistair's face, he stopped and smiled at her, always, always aware when it came to her.

Give him your heart. If you can, he will live beyond the Blight.

Only until beyond the Blight? Ellyn asked, wary of others who dealt with Mythal before. A certain high dragon named Adelind, for one, and countless others she knew not of.

The future is uncertain to me as well. I can only guarantee that he won't die in killing the Archdemon. That is all the promise I can give.

"Are you asleep?" Alistair said. Ellyn opened her eyes. He was still sitting by the hearth, with the armour packed away in a bundle. He pulled a wool blanket out of his pack. As soon as he ascertained her wakefulness, he moved to sit by her with the blanket draped over his shoulders. "Didn't think so."

"Too much on my mind." She whispered back at him. The keep was quiet, the keening sound of the damaged veil no longer ringing in her ears. If she closed her eyes she could almost hear Avernus pacing in his tower. "You're mad at me, aren't you?"

"I didn't know I was so easy to read." Alistair wasn't exactly mad at her. Sometimes he questioned her decisions. As a former templar, harbouring a blood mage, even if he was a Warden, did not clash well with his own sensibilities.

"You're not." Mind reading was a form of blood magic, but so was the taint. So far, she was good at catching the extremes. Anger was easy to spot. Ellyn stood and stretched a little, glancing at the sleeping figures around her. Zevran was awake, most definitely. The mages were fast asleep. She tilted her head toward one of the side passages at Alistair, and he followed her into the old commander's office. "The taint's growing stronger. I can feel your emotions when you're close to me. Care to tell me the details?"

Alistair closed the door; Ellyn summoned some wisps for light. They swirled in the air like fireflies, casting the wardens in a soft, blue light. "You spared a blood mage."

"He's not possessed. I spared a man who placed his life in my hands." She crossed her arms and readied herself for a fight.

"You're not blind, so I'll assume you noticed all those cages hanging around his 'lab,'" Alistair felt the blood rising to his cheeks. He was going to respect her decision, since he had looked to her for leadership. She did ask, however, and he was not about to tell her that nothing was wrong. "He's a monster, Ellyn. He experimented on Wardens and took their blood. He's a maleficar!"

Ellyn stared at him levelly as those last words were said. Any blood mage was a maleficar. Any mage who made use of blood magic. Maybe she never slit her own wrists to power her spells, but she did use life force and made use of whatever blood was nearby. Alistair barely tolerated Morrigan and she wasn't even a blood mage. He had accepted Ellyn; he knew that blood magic was not forbidden within the ranks of the Grey.

She paced a little, letting him think on his words. "We're all killers, Alistair." Ellyn stopped her pacing and turned her back on him.

"Don't put me in the same category as that monster! You are not like him, I am not like him ..." Alistair raised his voice briefly, then lowered it again when he heard the echo off the stone walls. "He summoned demons! He's against everything we stand for!"

There was a long silence. When Ellyn finally spoke again, her voice was steady. "What do you know of what we stand for, Alistair? Aside from what we learned today, that is. 'Join us in the shadows' where we shall tell you nothing you don't need to know?" When Alistair did not answer – could not answer her, she continued, "Avernus did what he did under orders from his commander. Sure, he did say that he would have summoned the demons anyway, even though he was fooling himself if he thought he could ever control a spirit, good or bad.

"He's been locked inside his tower for two hundred years, trying to find a way to correct his mistakes. Isn't that punishment enough?" Ellyn turned around, now certain that she was not going to cry. Alistair was silent, but he still looked indignant. Why was it so hard for him to see things her way?

They stared at each other from across the room, the blue glow of the wisps rendering their expressions stark and unreadable. Finally, Alistair let out a long sigh and ran one hand through his hair. "He's insane, Ellyn. He may have yielded to you, but he doesn't think he's wrong at all. How can you trust him not to hurt anyone else?"

"How can I trust Sten to not kill us all while we sleep? How can I trust Zevran to not slit my throat?" She shook her head at him, her golden locks ethereal in the magical light. "I trust people because I understand them, Alistair. I know what people need, and I give it to them. All Avernus wants is a place to do his research, and if he needs grey warden blood to do it, I'll gladly bleed myself once in a while to indulge him."

"You would help him ... experiment with blood magic?" He chuckled in disbelief. Alistair was almost a templar; blood magic invariably led to corruption. By the state of the warden mage's lab, he was beyond corruption.

Ellyn was near exasperated with this man. She might have been as brainwashed as he was, but she had spiritual guidance, and her knowledge was not filtered by the Chantry. "Let's get this straight, Alistair. My phylactery is blood magic. The Grey Warden ritual is blood magic. The Circle keeps my blood in Denerim, and if one day, they want to track me down, they'll use blood magic to do it. So, yes, I'm going to give him a bowl full of my blood before we leave, because that will keep him from sending out messages in the Fade to lure travellers up here to kill. It's not entirely altruistic, because if we want to rebuild the order while the Blight goes on, Avernus is the only warden capable of conducting the Joining. I can learn it, sure, but then he'll lose the only bargaining chip he thinks he has with me."

It was out in the open. She could take the Joining ritual and kill Avernus. She chose not to, because she was not about to take a life when she had a choice. "I see." Alistair set his mouth in a grim line. After almost a minute of silence, he sighed again, and slowly closed the distance between them. When he was close enough to feel her agitation, he said, "this is the same kind of reasoning that saved Connor, isn't it?"

Connor. The demon possessed child that decimated Redcliffe. It wasn't the same reasoning, but it was the same person that chose to jump through hoops just to save a life when a dagger thrust would have been the fastest way. Ellyn wasn't about to argue, so she nodded in agreement. It was not the same thing at all. Avernus did what he did in cold blood. Connor was an unwilling participant.

"Duncan wouldn't have killed him," she stared up at him, avoiding the original question. He would have known if she was lying. "Duncan would never kill someone for the sake of retribution. He would have spared the deranged blood mage if it helped end the Blight. I know he meant a lot to you, but that was who he was."

"How can you claim to know him? You met him little more than a week before Ostagar." Alistair balked, his face taking on that judgemental scowl Ellyn couldn't stand. Mythal thought she could love this man? Not in a million years.

"Duncan conscripted me. I helped a blood mage escape. If he didn't conscript me I would have ended up in Aeonar. Daveth picked Duncan's pocket and ended up a recruit. When Ser Jory backed off from the Joining Chalice, Duncan didn't hesitate in killing him. Do you see a pattern here?" She stood her ground, challenging him. Why did he make her feel this way? She confronted no one else like this. She lived her life appeasing, kept her companions close by with whispers of 'I need you' spoken in a thousand different ways. Alistair made her so angry she practically spat out her words. "He was a Grey Warden, Alistair. The two of us may play at it, and I don't claim that I can ever make the choices he was forced to make. But if you think he's some sort of pure hero, you are fooling yourself."

As soon as those words left her lips she regretted them. Alistair was not ready for this – he had this perfect world in his head where good people were rewarded and bad people were punished. Somehow Duncan was on some pedestal, a heroic, saintly figure, a saviour in his heart. She saw his wide-eyed shock as she took Duncan down to ground level without consideration of his feelings.

Alistair brought the heels of his palms up to his temples, a half-choke sound that was like a laugh left his lips. This was why she was their leader, not him. He saw things in black and white, while she adapted and accepted things the way they were, as children often did. When she stumbled she picked herself up again. Alistair held onto his ideals for dear life when everything fell away in Ostagar. Now she had taken those away too. He felt the world drop out underneath him.

She was there, catching him, one moment he was standing up, the next, he was lying half on the ground, Ellyn cradling his head and shoulders in her arms. There was never a chance to grieve after Ostagar, and grief never truly went away on its own. "I'm sorry. Not for what I said, but 'I'm sorry' for all the things and people you've lost." She whispered, stroking his hair. Not the first fight, and not the last time she would be there to shatter his dreams, to tear his world apart so he could come out the other side stronger than before.