Sorry this chapter took so long. I was nervous about a few of the scenes, and so I was avoiding them. Don't forget snacks, it's another doozy :)

Alistair scrubbed a dirty hand across his bleary eyes as he stared at the fire. He gave it a mutinous poke for good measure. Sparks flew in response. Glancing up, he saw sunlight starting to pierce the heavy foliage. Good. The night was over, more time had passed. Closer to the drug fading from Lorelai's blood, closer to freeing her.

Jacob snorted in his sleep, the mabari's head draped over Alistair's lap. The puddle of drool on his boot had been slowly growing, to the point that it now covered his entire heel. No matter; company was company.

And as he seemed to be the only one who was short on company, he wasn't going to complain about what he had to choose from. As he gave the dog a reassuring pat on the head, Oghren's rumbling snore drifted up from one of the lean-tos.

All right, maybe not the only one short on company.

After everyone had dispersed to their…activities, Alistair had settled himself by the fire. No one had mentioned anything about posting a watch, but their minds were understandably elsewhere. And seeing as how they'd been putting up with him in one fashion or another for this nightmare, he figured they all deserved some time to themselves

A rumpled red head appeared in the shadows of the darkened entrance to a lean-to. Ah, leave it to the bard and the mage to manage to sneak to shelter without him noticing. Their stealth didn't make him worry that he hadn't been alert enough. They'd been around the rock face, closer to the lean-tos than he was now. Easy to get inside the last one.

Leliana was trying to smooth her hair down, and it wasn't working very well. She grinned over her shoulder, and a small brush appeared out of nowhere. The bard made a comical face, pulling what Alistair assumed were long, blond hairs out of bristles. She received a gentle shove for her attitude, but was yanked back into the darkness of the lean-to a few moments later.

The strange, jungle birds were the only noise for a while. The dog in his lap snuffled, rubbing a paw against his nose. Alistair rubbed behind his ear until he quieted again. He didn't want the silence broken, not just yet. When everyone woke, there'd be chatter and embarrassment and plans and muck. He'd rather just sit and listen to his blood move for a bit.

And maybe, just a little bit, envision ways to repay Anora for daring to threaten what was his.

Nathaniel and Sigrun's dark-haired heads emerged from a lean-to next. Their tender awkwardness the previous night had been bittersweet. Alistair was happy for their connection, but their nervousness and blush-ridden moments had reminded him too much of how he'd been with Lorelai when they'd first met.

The archer, bare-chested, stood up first, and then offered his lady a hand up. She took it with a shy smile, and stood. Her full height only brought her to the level of his chest, which seemed to be a perfect place to her, as she leaned forward to embrace her fellow Warden, laying her cheek in the vicinity of his heart.

Nathaniel smiled with what seemed to be a little bit of awe as he returned her embrace.

Alistair's throat tightened in a jerk. He darted his eyes away, back to the fire.

Have I taught you nothing about eavesdropping? You do it with your ears, love. You wouldn't have seen that if you hadn't been looking.

He cleared his throat as quietly as possible. The Lorelai-voice was right, of course. He knew that. He'd found himself guiltily paralyzed by their love, however, unable to look away.

His precious silence was about to end. They might be inhabiting their own little private world at the moment, but that didn't make them literally blind. Any second now they would-

"Your Majesty!" Sigrun's alarmed voice blurted out. Nathaniel let out a muffled curse.

-notice him.

Jacob started awake with a woof, tongue flopping out of the side of his mouth.

Suppressing a sigh at his lost peace, Alistair turned and gave the horrified pair a warm smile. "Good morning, you two," he said, even managing to infect the words with a touch of lecherousness.

Sigrun blushed immediately. "Have you been out here…all night?" she squeaked.

"Oh, yes," Alistair drawled. "Just keeping watch. Minding my own business." He gave her a knowing wink. "As much as I could, at any rate."

The dwarf swallowed, her eyes blinking entirely too often. She turned her humiliated gaze on Nathaniel, and blanched. "Put some clothes on!" she hissed. The archer jumped and ducked quickly into the lean-to.

Alistair couldn't help but laugh. This banter reminded him of the Blight, except he and Lorelai had been the victims; Zevran, Leliana, Oghren and even Shale on occasion the tormentors.

"I'm teasing you, Sigrun," he said, attempting to spare her any more agony. "Don't be embarrassed."

"Oh, yes," she agreed sarcastically. "That should do it. Hmm, why do I still feel like I want to crawl in a hole and die?"

He laughed again, just as rustling from his left made him turn his head. Zevran, Aednat, and Aideen emerged from the nearby jungle. The assassin had an arm around each of their waists, and the ladies helpfully pushed the overhanging branches out of the way.

Even though he'd assumed as much when both women had disappeared and neither had returned, Alistair still couldn't help choking a little in shock. Well, if any man could handle two women, it was Zevran. And he appeared to be doing a fair job of it even now.

Maker's breath, the former Crow had guts.

"Aideen?" Sigrun blurted out, her voice a few pitches higher than normal. "Aednat?"

Oh, right. He'd been the only one who'd known. Other than the participants, of course. And that was probably his cue to leave.

"Morning, Sigrun," Aideen answered nonchalantly and Aednat waved a blissful greeting as Alistair got to his feet.

Leliana stuck her head out of her lean-to, and Anders' came out a second later. "Oh, how lovely," she said with approval as she saw the trio of elves. She glanced at Anders. "Close your mouth, dear. It's impolite to gape."

The mage's jaw slammed shut loudly.

Fighting the urge to laugh some more, Alistair managed to say, "Since I stayed up all night making sure we weren't overrun by jungle creatures, I think I'll get some sleep." Jacob followed him to an empty lean-to. Before he ducked inside, he gave Leliana and Zevran pointed looks. All teasing in his voice vanished as he said, "When I get up, I'd like something resembling a plan, please."

The pair nodded solemnly.

As Alistair curled up inside the lean-to, punching the blankets into a better shape, he sighed heavily. Jacob's heavy body thudded against him, temporarily squishing his ribcage and knocking his breath out in a gust. He inched backwards, giving himself a few extra inches of breathing room.

Sleeping until nightfall, and until something resembling a plan emerged, seemed like the greatest idea he'd ever come up with.

"So," Anders began, "you and the solemn, brooding son of Rendon Howe, hmm?"

Sigrun shot the mage a look as she bent down, grabbing another stick to add to her growing armload of firewood. A rush of warmth filled her chest anyway; regardless of the glare she gave her fellow Warden. Quickly followed by a spill of guilt for finding such happiness while the Commander was trapped in that fortress. While the King had been forced to…listen. "What about it?"

"Nothing, of course. Just tickled pink to see you kids happy." He sniffed theatrically. "Brings joy to this old heart."

Sigrun smirked. "I could say the same for you and your pretty bard." She wiggled her eyebrows for good measure.

For such a reputed ladies' man, Anders turned a satisfying shade of red. He cleared his throat, "Yes, ah, well…"

Laughing, the dwarf glanced around them and quickly sobered. "We should be heading back. It's getting dark, and all these Stone-damned trees look the same."

Anders grinned wickedly. "I wonder how long it would take your dashing archer to come look for you if we became lost."

"Like Leliana wouldn't come searching for you?" she countered.

"Maker's breath, no!" he exclaimed. "She'd want to punish me for being silly enough to get lost in the first place."

"True. We should definitely be going then." They began making their way back, armfuls of wood their prizes to be brought before the camp, when Sigrun's feet stuttered to a stop, her breath catching in her throat.

"What is it?" Anders asked.

She shook her head, unable to speak for a moment. In this foreign jungle, this place of alien sounds and smells and sights, of perpetual noise…everything had gone silent. The shrilling birds. The chorus of thousands of insects. All replaced by suffocating quiet.

Someone was here.

Sigrun's mind raced. How close were they? How many? It didn't matter. They'd all have to be killed to stop them from reporting back to the fortress. Even then, eventually their absence would be noticed, and their cover – the element of surprise that was their only advantage – would be lost.

Trying to focus through the thick trees, she was desperate for a glimpse of the camp's fire. There was nothing to be seen through the dense underbrush. No idea how far they were from their companions. Would a shout of warning carry?

"Sigrun-"

They were on them in a blink.

The former legionnaire dropped her armload of wood and drew her blades as the mercenaries leapt from the darkness like wraiths. Anders followed suit, a spell that Sigrun didn't recognize forming between his hands in a spiraling mist of color.

The light thrown off by the spell was just enough that Sigrun could see the man descend on Anders from behind…with no way to stop it.

The blow that barreled into the back of the mage's head made her guts spasm. With a war cry, she plunged a blade into the man's chest as Anders crumpled, the spell vanishing and plunging her back into darkness.

Her blade slid free as the mercenary fell, and his blood spurted across her face. She stood over Anders, and brandished her swords at the myriad of shadow-clad figures before her. If the camp could hear her, her battle cry would've reached them. But for good measure, and because it gave her a perverse pleasure that his name was hers to call, she shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Nathaniel!"

Lorelai blinked rapidly, rubbing her eyes. Where was she? What was happening? The world around her flickered like a torch in a strong wind. A rush of green, of depth and shape, alternating with a grey nothingness, barren and cool.

"I tell you – careful – is the mess – get in!"

Lorelai jumped in shock. "Morrigan?"

The mage was suddenly before her. She snatched the archer's hands, only to vanish into the grey miasma. Then she was back, and the world of green held for a few moments, only to dissolve again.

The green. It was the dream garden. That was where Morrigan was. The grey was…Ranger's Reins.

"Help – Focus, you – woman!" the mage's fractured voice demanded.

Lorelai clenched her jaw and pushed at the greyness. Miraculously, it retreated under her onslaught, leaving a portion of Morrigan's garden before her, an oasis of vibrancy in a seething fog. The luscious plants and giant flowers were a welcome sight.

"By all the Gods there have ever been!" Morrigan half-shouted. "How is it that even with your womb filled to the brim with child you still manage to get into a catastrophe of this proportion?" Without waiting for an answer, which was good because Lorelai was too stunned to speak, the witch continued, "And then you reject rescue! After everything Brighid and I have manipulated to get you the aid you require!"

"Yes, clearly, because I planned this!" Lorelai snapped back, before gasping in delight. In this place of dreams, her words and tongue were unfettered. It was glorious. But that was beside the point at the moment. "And what do you mean 'reject rescue'?"

Morrigan didn't acknowledge that she'd spoken. She released her hands, and paced nearby in a tight, furious circle. "Sustaining that son of a madman Howe when he would have collapsed from exhaustion! Pointing that brainless elf in the direction of that prostitute, who he would have waltzed right on by! Nudging your little traitor's traitor to give that foul pirate woman the location!" The raven-haired woman let out a feral snarl, then pointed an accusing finger at the archer. "This is not simple, you can imagine."

Lorelai's mind spun. Leliana and Zevran hadn't told her all the details of everything apparently, because parts of Morrigan's rant made no sense. But she could sort that out later. "Forgive me for being such an inconvenience to you," she spat, spreading her arms in mock-apology. "I'll make sure to never get kidnapped by a lovelorn political zealot and Andraste only knows who else again!"

Morrigan snorted in response, but the tempest of her outburst seemed to have passed. "Well, the plan of that idiot assassin and that moronic bard is at least working in part," the apostate acknowledged. "The vile drug is indeed leaving your system, since I've managed a connection with you."

"Don't talk about them like that," Lorelai scolded as clean, un-drugged anger spiked through her. "How can you-"

"They left you in this Gods-forsaken place!" Morrigan interrupted. "You could have fought your way to the outside easily! You could have-"

"Oh, battle plans from the witch, hmm? The witch who told me to be careful, I might add!" Lorelai shot back. "I told them to leave me! I didn't think it was-"

"I did not exempt you from this stupidity, did I? You bear the guilt even more than the pair of them! Shamelessly exerting your authority when you know they will bow to your every command!"

Ah, so that was how she was "rejecting rescue". Well, Morrigan could think what she liked. More importantly, the fact that she was shrieking in this manner indicated something much more important to the Warden: Morrigan was extremely worried. It made her feel better and worse. Better that the witch really cared…but worse that things were bad enough to make Morrigan worry.

"Enough," Lorelai said into the quiet left by Morrigan's last accusation. They wouldn't stop if they kept this up. "One day, we can shout at each other about this until our blood curdles, but now is not the time for it."

Morrigan's shoulders stiffened and she seized the Warden's hands again. "Of that you are too correct." She paused momentarily. "Lorelai, they've been discovered."

"Who?" she demanded, even as her heart turned to ice. Like she needed to ask.

"Your gallant rescue party." Morrigan managed to keep the sneer from her face. "These imbecilic mercenaries are completely out of control. A gang of them left the fortress, bored and looking for innocent animals to slaughter in all likelihood, and they practically stumbled onto the camp."

Lorelai felt her knees go loose, and she sank to the green-and-gray splattered ground. "How many is a 'gang'?" she asked, looking up at her former companion.

The apostate's face darkened but held firm. "They are holding their own. Their frilly, pet mage is unconscious, making things more difficult. But they will be fine." Pulling, Morrigan hauled her back to her feet. "Everything's chaos in the fortress." She gave Lorelai a fierce smile. "None of them expected company, and all the mercenaries are up in arms. Your Keep is on the way, he's managed to acquire the keys." Morrigan squeezed her hands painfully. "Get out of here, Lorelai. Whatever it takes."

Lorelai nodded slowly, feeling very sick to her stomach, especially at the knowledge that Anders was unconscious. She told herself firmly that they were all superb fighters. Everything would be fine. "Do you know who's behind this? Can you see-?"

"No," Morrigan answered bitterly. "I can see you because I am connected to you, and I can see your friends because they are connected to you. But the filthy creature behind this…I can sense no connection to you, and so I cannot see."

"Our friends," Lorelai corrected even as metallic fear fill her mouth. The mystery of everything was finally starting to erode the walls of her self control. Who? Why? The most important unanswered questions of her life. In her womb, the child shifted in response to her distress.

The apostate ignored her correction and laid her hands on the Warden's stomach and brought her reptilian eyes close. "Be strong, my friend…for your son."

Her mind shattered into little, tiny sparks of light.

"Son?" she whispered when she remembered how to make her tongue form words again.

"Son," Morrigan echoed firmly, smiling that fierce smile that was almost a baring of teeth again. "A King, Lorelai. Worthy of the bloodline that produced him."

Lorelai laughed in a giddy, overwhelming burst. Son. King.

"Now, go," Morrigan said. "Your Keep is almost here. He'll let you out and then-"

"To the battlements," came a small, musical voice.

Lorelai's ecstatic revere broke as her eyes snapped down to Morrigan's side. There, staring at up her with piercing amber eyes set in a face of perfect milky skin surrounded by a river of black hair, was the God-child. Urthemiel reincarnated. Brighid.

"The battlements?" Morrigan questioned. "No, treasure, Lorelai needs to escape."

"No, she must go to the battlements," the child responded. Reaching up, she patted Lorelai's wrist gently. "The battlements," she said again, as if that explained everything.

It was only through force of will that Lorelai kept her feet. When the girl had touched her, immense power had pulsed through Lorelai with all the subtly of a lightning bolt. Now, in a picture of childhood innocence, she clung to Morrigan's leather skirts, bashfully pressing her face against them. Andraste blessed sword…

Morrigan looked down at the child for a few heartbeats before turning her yellow eyes to Lorelai. "You should…go to the battlements," she said with a hard swallow. "I do not like it. It is much too dangerous. But…" she paused and looked down at her child again, "I think it would be a mistake to ignore her. She, ah, very rarely does this."

She nodded, taking a few steps backward away from the pair.

"Wake up," Morrigan whispered as Lorelai closed her eyes.

Her eyes flew open to the frantic sound of metal jangling against more metal. A key in the lock. She pushed herself to her feet just as the door swung open and a rough, wild-eyed man practically stumbled in.

His dark hair was longish, but it didn't seem to be on purpose, as it swung into his eyes, giving him the look of a mangy sheepdog. Light armor that was worn and old, but well cared for, covered his lean-muscled frame. No juggernaut on the field, not this man. Not like Alistair was. But a warrior, nonetheless.

He stared at her for a moment, and she stared right back.

"Your Majesty," he finally answered, dropping to one knee and lowering his eyes.

She wanted to run to him, but she forced herself to remain still.

When he raised his eyes, there was an approving smile on his face. Getting to his feet, he inclined his head slightly. "Keep," he said, touching his armor-covered chest lightly.

"Oh, Andraste," she blurted out in relief. "I could kiss you right now."

He coughed in embarrassment. "Let's…not do that. Although, I'm probably up for execution anyway, so what's a little inappropriate conduct with the Queen at this point?"

She laughed, and covered the distance between them. Staring up into his green eyes, she poked a finger at his chest and triumphantly hissed, "Execution? I'll see you made a knight for this."

He let out a snort of laughter. "Let's get you out of here first. I know the drug makes you slow, do you need me to carry you?" He paused then, and looked at her strangely. "Just now, when you were talking, you didn't stumble through your words."

Damn! She'd been so surprised; she hadn't thought to keep her words thick and slow. "I haven't been eating the food," she said, no need to include that she'd had other things to eat. She may trust Keep, but her friends had not signed up for the same trust. She would not tell him a thing about their presence. "I was trying to flush the drug out."

"Clever girl," he said. Pulling a long dagger out of his belt, he slapped it into her open hand. "I imagine you know how to use that."

"Yes," she whispered, feeling the weight of the weapon in her palm. The primal urge to shed blood was thick and hot in her chest, and the base desire for revenge was right on its heels.

"Come on," he reached for her hand, sticking his head out the door and glancing into the hallway. "Everyone's all in a tizzy. Apparently there were some people here, and they're putting up quite the fight."

Battlements.

Lorelai went still. She could not go with him.

He snorted, still examining the empty hallway. "Daft morons. What were they doing out of the fortress, anyway? I hope those people out there slaughter the lot of them."

She almost laughed. On that, they could wholeheartedly agree.

Keep turned to her finally, waving his empty hand impatiently. "Come on, my lady."

"Wait, there's something-" She feigned indecision, stepping a pace away from him. She needed him closer. And surprised. As long as he was surprised, she could pull this off.

"What is it?" he asked immediately, coming back into her cell and approaching her.

The heartfelt concern in his voice made her feel doubly guilty for what she was about to do. "It's just…" She lowered her eyes to the floor, as if she were nervous. When he stepped even closer, Lorelai punched him solidly in the jaw. She connected beautifully, just like Alistair had taught her.

He dropped to the ground like a stone.

"Forgive me," she whispered. In sudden insight, she snatched the keys from him. This way, when she was recaptured, which she no doubt would be by heading to the battlements, Keep would not be implicated in her escape. They could think she jumped him.

Already he was coming around, arms and legs twitching convulsively. Her mouth went dry at the way his body shook, like he was under some twisted spell.

That's supposed to happen! Move it, girl!

Sparing Keep another apologetic gaze, she left the cell and swung the massive door shut. With trembling hands, she shoved the lock shut with a jarring click. There, now he'd be safely out of trouble. She started down the corridor quickly.

Now that she was alone, she could truly inspect what she had to work with. Her gait was smooth. Well, as smooth as it could be, considering her pregnancy. Her body no longer trembled uncontrollably like a forest mouse, and her thoughts were clear. It wasn't perfect; the previous day's hours were a bit of a mess in her internal timeline. But leaps and bounds better than she had been.

Cautiously, breath catching in terrified anticipation, she reached for that part of herself that spoke with animals. The part that she always thought was a bit animal itself, the part that made her ruthless and practical. She felt around in her own mind like a person in a pitch black room, looking for the matches.

The darkness of her mind was suddenly lit with flickering sparks, a swarm of fireflies trapped in the windowless room with her. She could sense them. But…none of the lights held. They danced out of her grasp, fleeing her touch. She couldn't even tell what animals they were…just that they were there.

She stopped walking and squeezed her eyes shut in fury and despair. Andraste damn Grady to the most darkspawn-infested cave in all of Thedas. Well, it was not to be helped. Not right now. More time, she just needed more time.

Opening her eyes, she very nearly cursed out loud. Where exactly did she think she was going? Obviously, to the battlements, but where? She didn't need to be wandering around aimlessly.

Lorelai felt a tugging on her mind, a pull to keep walking down this hallway. Like a string rolled out before her, she could see the finish line in her mind. It would lead her to her goal unerringly.

Morrigan.

Taking a deep breath, Lorelai followed the gentle lure through the fortress. Up to the battlements.

Alistair resettled his grip on his sword and stood his ground. He didn't like it, this was not his normal job in battle, but he was the most capable of defending Anders' unconscious body. Swinging his shield around in a flashing arc, he deflected an opportunistic strike. A great overhand stroke of his blade gave the man something else to think about…like how his blood was now gushing out of his body.

Well, he'd had to practically shove Leliana away to get this job, so he'd be damned if he was going to fail at it.

Jacob, who remained by his side like a furry bur, lashed out. He grabbed the man's thigh in his formidable jaws and wrenched him to the ground before tearing his throat out.

Alistair let out a shaky breath. There was nothing quite like a mabari at your side.

Everyone had fanned out around him in a circle, keeping his precious Kingly self and the mage in the middle. The battle was going well, considering how badly they'd been taken by surprise, and how only half of them had their armor on.

Not that that was stopping anyone, he thought as Oghren cackled wildly, swinging his battleaxe in devastating, sweeping motions. The dwarf was clad in just his linens, and he barely seemed to notice.

Maker's breath, one would think being woken up by a companion's frenzied battle cry once per lifetime would be enough. And he'd filled that quota during the Blight, thank you very much.

In his stifling, driving-him-slowly-mad position of near safety in the center, Alistair had the chance to observe everything. He blinked in surprise; was this what Lorelai saw all the time? In the back, as the archer? It was…interesting. He could catalogue everyone's injuries, watch the advance and retreat of battle lines, of ground given and taken back.

It was under control. Amazingly so. Baring these idiots pulling a mage out of their back pocket (and what was his Templar training for if not to handle things like that?), he thought the fight would be over soon. Their numbers were certainly dwindling.

He frowned, grinding his teeth together. They'd deal with the implications of being found later.

Lorelai drove the dagger deep between the man's ribs from behind. High on his left side. The reverberations as the blade sliced through his heart ran down the weapon and through her wrist. His longbow dropped from his twitching hands, and he collapsed a moment later. She'd managed to stay out of the way mostly, but his blood washed her left arm in a scarlet sleeve.

That was it. There had only been a few men up here, and she'd killed them all silently and quickly. Zevran would be bursting with pride when she told him.

The wind was strong up here, buffeting her against the stone. Careful of her belly, she leaned in between the merlons, peering out into the darkness. Her body stilled, the adrenaline of killing the men fading, and in the silence she heard the sounds of battle. Her eyes honed in on where her ears told her the sound was coming from. It all of sudden jumped out at her, as if it were bathed in the light of day.

Her friends were in a loose ring, fighting in small groups. Sigrun and Nathaniel fought near each other, and he had forgone his bow in favor of two daggers. He was not nearly as proficient as Sigrun, however. It was well-balanced anyway, as Sigrun fought in the warrior's style while Nathaniel snuck around behind her distracted targets.

Lorelai's lips twitched as she watched their dance, and she good-naturedly cursed herself that she'd never noticed their attraction before. She must be slipping.

Oghren charged around in wild circles, swinging his battle axe in huge, mowing arcs. Leliana stuck with him, attempting to make sure no one stabbed the berserk dwarf in the back. She was doing a fair job of it.

Zevran and the "twins" were a thing of beauty. Lorelai always found herself mesmerized by Aednat and Aideen, and this night was no exception. The pair made death a song, and Zevran added to their duet just made it all the more beautiful. She nearly choked at the way the assassin watched their backs. More than good tactics, more than companionably concern. Well, well. Love was in the air, it seemed. Or at the very least, lust.

Ah, to have her brain properly functioning at last. She would never take it for granted again.

Speaking of love…

She saw him, and couldn't take a breath for several seconds. There he was. Husband. Lover. King to her Queen. Father to her son. The first face to cut through her haze of grief after the death of her entire family. The first, and only, man to have complete and total knowledge of her body.

It was only then that a dark part of herself admitted she'd thought she'd never see him again.

Alistair was in the middle of the circle, of all places. The frustration and helplessness of it were surely pushing him towards insanity as he was forced to sit back and wait for someone to slip past the outer edge. She prayed the fight ended soon, before that frustration led him to do something reckless. Pacing before him, like a diligent bodyguard, was her beloved Jacob. Hale and whole.

Tears of joy threatened to overwhelm her, but a glint in the darkness pushed all her emotions away.

The fighting was dying down. The fortress didn't seem to be sending out any more to continue the skirmish. No honor among mercenaries; they'd let those who'd made the mistake of getting into a battle pay for their error. Practical…if heartless.

But hidden in the bushes, beyond the edge of the circle, was someone. He was poised directly behind Alistair. Neither Jacob or Alistair had sensed him, they were too keenly focused on the battle before him. No one else around the rim had, either. They were too occupied in their own personal fights.

She saw the blade in his hands, and even from this distance she could tell it was balanced for throwing.

Fearfully, she hauled on her ranger senses with all her power. If she could just reach Jacob, get him to turn around. Normally she never used her abilities on her mabari; there was no need. He was like an extension of her body, a weapon cast from her like one of her bolts.

She felt a fizzled flashing, like a fire doused in water, but nothing else. Nothing that even felt like Jacob. No cord to tie him to her.

The danger remained hidden in the darkness, unnoticed by anyone on the field..

Lorelai looked down at the cooling body of the man beside her, and snatched the longbow. A quick feel around in the shadows found the quiver, and she drew a long, fetched arrow. Like a skill never quite forgotten, she coolly notched the arrow and drew back on the bow.

Her shoulder and back muscles protested instantly. By the armies of Andraste, it had been ages since she'd shot a longbow. She'd long ago turned her favor to the crossbow and its fierce, thick bolts.

No time to consider the implications of her rusty skills or questionable aim with a weapon she'd lost familiarity with. She sighted down the arrow, even as it and the bow began to tremble slightly with the quaking of her body.

Lorelai inhaled slowly, forcing a calm she did not truly feel. The beat of her heart thudded through her body, adding to the instability of the bow and its missile. She exhaled, then let one more heartbeat shake her.

The man tensed, and drew back his arm for the throw.

She released. The arrow disappeared into the darkness, vanishing from her sight. What she did see was the man slump suddenly, collapsing down into the bushes he'd been hiding in.

Alistair spun, sensing the man's death as he had not sensed his life. He spun again, facing toward the fortress, his whole body strained and intent. Searching.

She willed him to see her. If just an ounce of recognition came over his face, it would be-

Lorelai was grabbed from behind by strong, rough arms and dragged away from the battlements. She let out a primal scream of fury.

Now she prayed he hadn't seen her at all.

He heard a grunt of pain, following by thick curse. He turned quickly, frantically. Whoever was behind him was close. Too close. But to his shock, he didn't see an enemy poised to strike. Instead, he saw a mercenary crumpling; an arrow buried in his chest like it had erupted from his torso instead of being embedded there by someone else.

Nathaniel wasn't using his bow. He'd snatched the daggers instead in the mad rush out of the camp, too concerned for his Sigrun to think clearly. So, who had shot the mercenary?

Turning again, he felt his eyes pulled up toward the fortress. On the distant battlements was a figure. Slight of build…with a billowing curtain of hair carried on the wind.

His heart stopped. Well and truly stopped.

"Lorelai," he whispered. It was no one else. He could feel it ringing in his bones like his body had become a gigantic bell.

Then the men came up behind her, snatching her and dragging her away from the battlements. Away from him. A scream, her scream, floated down, fading as the wind pulled it to pieces.

"Lorelai!" he howled as something inside him snapped. Everything faded, drowning in his rage. He was dimly aware of his feet carrying him towards the fortress in a barreling run.

"Zevran!" someone shouted, a desperate plea.

He barely noticed the flash of pain that cut across his neck, or the flow of blood. He could not help but notice, however, when his legs turned to jelly beneath him and he collapsed forward. His arms refused to move, leaving him defenseless as he fell face-first into the dirt. Unconsciousness opened it mouth and swallowed him whole.