Disclaimer: The Dragon Age world doesn't belong to me.

He stayed back. He foreswore his duty as a Warden.

They married in a hurry, Anora wanted it so that the will of the Landsmeet be carried on immediately, before the great battle. Should one of them perish, it would still stand. Correction, not the Landsmeet's, but the Warden's will.

"Guard the castle" they told him. He went down the village and helped them build defenses, and convinced them somehow, in between the scuffles with stray darkspawn, that it had been a sensible decision that he stayed back, the Warden King, the last line of defense. Anora? They didn't ask. But he could see it in their eyes, all through the month, that they thought her braver than himself. More fit to rule. Well, so be it,he can't care less.

They all came back, with victory, but with grim shades over their faces. All, but the Warden. At first, he thought she'd stayed in Denerim, with the City Guard; what need was there, after all, to come to Redcliffe and see the old friend that one betrayed the trust of, when the capital was burning? It couldn't burn well without her, obviously. But no, that wasn't it. Eamon took him aside in his study the other day and told him the whole story. The Orlesian bard had given herself away in the end, in slaying the Warden just before she could give the final blow – so Loghain had done it in her stead. He'd perished of a burst of magic unknown in doing so. This, also, could have an explanation. Both Irving and himself had witnessed Senior Enchanter Wynne die and rise again during the battle; that spoke of one thing only – abomination. It made sense. The old mage had always felt strange to his Templar senses. This was only the conclusion. But, Leliana? So upright, compassionate, his only love? She had deceived him too, in having chosen the other Warden. It served Kallian well, after the betrayal he had to endure at her hand. Somewhat, a form of justice. Ah, and the Qunari had stolen her body from the camp.

Anora has just returned from the village. She gives the reins of her bay horse to a stable boy, and throws a reassuring smile his way. She approves of what he's done down there. It warms him up inside, and he gives her a quick wave of the hand, without much thinking. It is the first time he looks at her and it doesn't spell resentment and deceit. This marriage may turn to be a good thing, after all.

Chapter 5 – First, There Was the Bard

The events in the young Cousland's camp left Kallian with pursed lips and a knitted brow. As they gathered their gear, Morrigan, who seemed to take to Clarice a bit more than expected, pointed at something that none of them had had the time to notice yet – the sky above Hightever was red with a shimmering light.

"The city is burning with revolt. Zevran and I spread the news of the Archdemon's fall. If you want to take Highever, now is the time."

Then they left, Kallian arguing with Zevran on who was better suited to carry Leliana's limp body. While Zevran may have been steadier on his feet, as he hadn't seen battle that night, Kallian had always been stronger; she was also too attached not to be possessive, and Zevran let her have her way in the end. The fact that the bard hadn't regained consciousness of yet had also an explanation – Morrigan admitted that she'd hit her with a sleeping spell right before Clarice had unleashed her aura of pain; she'd only meant to keep Leliana out of the sword's range, butthis kind of thingcould always rebound; all that one could do on such occasion was to wait for the aftereffect to wear off by itself.

They were all willing to put as a sound distance as possible between them and the city, so the break of dawn caught up with them before they finally stopped and collapsed fully dressed on the grass near a small stream, with their cloaks laid for bedrolls and Con only faithful guard. Right before falling asleep, Morrigan muttered some protective spells that sounded terribly lacking to Kallian's ears – although that may have well been due to the fact that she was already dozing while the witch did her part.

Zevran woke up all of a suddenwhen a most unwelcome boot kicked him in the ribs. Half asleep, he jerked the offending foot hard to the ground and trampled the intruder, seizing their shoulders and freeing his dagger, right before being thrown on the side with a knee in the loin, while nimble fingers grabbed his wrist and almost cracked it, making him groan and let go of the weapon. The intruder rolled away, panting, and, as recognition dawned on him, Zevran spoke at the same time as the other

"Oh! Sorry!"

"Sorry, Zev!"

"As deadly as ever, are we? Happy to see that, Sister." Zevran chuckled.

"Oh, Zev!..." Leliana – as she had been the unwilling intruder – buried her face in her hands.

"Come now." Zevran wrapped his arms around the shaking shoulders of his favorite bard. "You'll be fine." he said as she fiercely returned the hug.

Since Leliana was human, and quite tall, too, Zevran found himself in a position that allowed for more than friendly comfort, and Zevran decided to lighten the mood in his own special way.

"You don't know how happy I am that we found you alive," he said truthfully, and then adding in a snickering voice muffled by Leliana's doublet,"- or, how happy I am to find myself so deeply engulfed in your exquisite bosom."

Unlike other times, Leliana didn't quip back. She burst into laughter and pulled him closer.

"You certainly have a way of making a girl feel at ease, ser Assasin. I missed you too."

"Come, let me show you around."

The clearing they had slept in was maybe ten paces wide and twice as long. It could host three, four tents at the most. Upstream, Morrigan was still asleep, in the shape of a bear, and Kallian lay snugly wrapped in her cloak, shaded by the trees on the left, quite near from the spot where Zevran had been resting. During early day, that place had been warmed by the gentle morning sun, but it was getting late by the moment, and it was getting colder.

"We shouldn't wake her, she carried you all night," Zevran said, keeping his voice low.

Leliana wanted to go downstream to freshen up. Zevran left her to herself, under the careful supervision of a very possessive mabari hound, who would be more than happy to serve as guide and guardian to somebody that held a whole bag of double-baked crunches, more so since that somebody was more than likely to leave the said crunches unguarded while they bathed themselves. Or, that was the way that Zevran put it, with the full knowledge of the fact that, had himself been a mabari, he wouldn't overlook the tiny bits of details that came with the task. Con wiggled his stub of a tail high and paced forth, with Leliana's hand on his back.

By that time Morrigan had gotten up and was stretching her bear bones in the sunlight. She roared once to clear her throat and she shifted back into human form, her bun still ruffled and her cheeks puffed with sleep. She shrugged off the stray leaves in her robes.

"Our bard has awakened, I take it?"

"Yes. She went downstream with Con."

"I wonder – have you noticed anything astray about her?"

"What? Other than being blind, you mean?"

"Yes, other than that. The Veil was thin around Highever. You saw what happened to that poor noblewoman."

"No, I haven't noticed anything else. And she is taking that quite well, if you ask me. I certainly wouldn't be able to laugh, if such a thing happened to me."

"Well, that only stands to prove that you're vainer even than a bard," Morrigan sneered. "So, what shall we have for dinner – hare, or venison?"

"Going hunting?"

"I'd rather have venison, but that's just me" Morrigan turned swiftly on her heels, shifted into a white, furry, lean wolf with bright yellow eyes and strode off.

It was late at night when Kallian woke. Although springtime had brought with itself more lenient weather, it was still cold to sleep outside, and she felt grateful for the furs that somebody had carefully wrapped around her shoulders and for the heat of the small fire that glittered nearby. She stirred, drawing slightly closer to the fire, unwilling to leave the comfort of her bedroll just yet. It was an actual bedroll that she was snugged upon, Kallian noted somewhat confused, before rising properly.

"You awake?" Leliana's graceful figure was bent over her lute, her fingers running along the chords playing a silent tune. She wore a padded doublet that she used to wear under her armor, and a brown linen skirt that Kallian suspected was the remaining half of her Chantry robe.

Her voice was hoarser than before, but the affectionate lilting that Kallian had become accustomed to was there, soothing to the ears.

"Yes. You've been up for some time?"

"Quite. It was awkward at first, you know, I didn't know where I was." Leliana's lips curved wryly. "I literally stepped on Zev. Dangerous business to trample over an assassin in his sleep – they may run you through before you know it. Both him and Con decided I could use some help, afterwards; but then Con got bored of showing me around and started to dig – you know, to get to the other side of the world and such." Aside, Con whined at the veiled reproach.

The tents were up. Judging by the sound snoring, both Morrigan and Zevran were fast asleep. Other than that, it was a clear night, and the silence was only broken by the occasional hoof of an owl and the slight rattling of the trees. Kallian drew closer to the fire, but not too close, as she found herself unexpectedly shy. She felt like saying something for an introduction – last time they'd met, after all, had been almost a month before, and not so much of a happy circumstance. She had to say something, but what? 'All of this is my fault only' – no, bad line. 'I'd rather you wouldn't have done it.' No. 'Loghain might have been able to put a stop to all this' – worse, even. 'I'd have run that rat spew and lame excuse of a warrior through, but I couldn't.'

"Want some ale?" Leliana offered her own half-filled mug, breaking Kallian from her musings.

"Yes. Ale is good."

She grabbed at it and took a big swig, then she returned it without much thinking. There was a slight hesitation in Leliana's nimble fingers, as her knuckles brushed slightly against the mug before securing it. It was a passing moment, and it made Kallian's heart sink a little. Leliana may, or may not, have noticed, but it seemed she was determined not to dwell on downcast thoughts at the time.

"Nothing better than an honest Fereldan ale, yes? In Val Royeaux, one would stick some lemons into it and call it a panache –if you add some peach juice you'd have quite the drink… tasting of malt and fruit at the same time – best from both worlds…"

"I don't know if I could get used to such a drink. Sounds weird to me."

Leliana laughed quietly.

"Of course you wouldn't. I myself found it tedious at times. But then again, one cannot feed the guests at a banquet on freshly baked bread only, however wholesome that is otherwise."

"I suppose."

Whenever she heard Leliana speak of the wonders in Val Royeaux, Kallian couldn't help but marvel at the world of luxury and refinement that was laid in front of her. She could only begin to fathom the ways that someone used to such sophistications would miss them; however, of late, she leaned to believe that when her lover would resort to these memories as a pastime, more often than not, it was not out of yearning, but to dispel the awkward silence that opened ways for dreary thoughts to creep in. Kallian made her own clumsy attempt at conversation.

"So, what are you doing up at this late hour?"

"Waiting for you to wake up, I think. And, guarding the place – warding – how did that silly Templar put it –wardening, I think…"

They both laughed at the memory of a very nervous Kallian, overwhelmed by the hazard of the abomination that Connor had been host to, back at Redcliffe, trying to get across Lake Calenhad to the Tower of Magi and crossing paths with a daft Templar denying her rights as a Warden unless she'd proven it – until the Sten of the Beresaad had offered him a box of cookies and softened his edges. Definitely, it was material that real adventures were made of.

There was a precise moment for everyone when friendly talk turned into something more, Kallian thought. Either one grew aware of it or not, things were bound to change into something new from that moment on, be it delicate like the blossoming of a flower or rough like the stinging sharpness of a shrub full of thorns. Her moment with Leliana had been more than a year before, while idly chatting about hair. Leliana had been trying to corner her for a couple of months already, but she'd held her own and had taken naught of it too seriously, seeing that the lady had been a bard having spent too much time in a Chantry and all. However, some good laughs had accomplished what stories of Elindra and her soldier could not have, and Kallian had taken to wake one morning after the next wondering whether the bard had been an accomplished liar of epical dimensions or noblewomen of Orlais had truly been wearing living birds in their hair – and to stiff a laughter while she'd been at it. She'd known she'd been lost back then, but she'd indulged in it, and hadn't lived to regret it since.

Kallian sipped at her ale thoughtfully. It was late at night and the idle talk had done little to bring them any closer this time.

"You're awful quiet" Leliana said.

"I am."

"We must talk."

A cowardly part of Kallian's soul coiled at the words, as she said hastily

"No. Not tonight."

A soft hand cupped her cheek and turned her head gently. She hadn't faced Leliana the whole evening, Kallian noticed only at the moment, as she couldn't avoid the empty sockets that were staring back at her.

"How do I look?"

The question was unsettling in itself. The time of jokes was long past, and Kallian couldn't lie, be it to Leliana or herself.

"You look… frightening beyond reason," she said, feeling the whole world was sinking with her mistake – but Leliana merely nodded.

"Frightening enough to send you away?" The question was meant to be said in a lighter tone, but Leliana's voice broke somewhere in the middle of the phrase.

"No." Kallian said it firmly, and, somehow, it had all become too much, and she couldn't push it away anymore. She reached for Leliana, holding her tight, kissing her scarred cheeks. "No. I love you. Nothing would send me away."

"Good." Leliana held her close, but avoided the following kiss, with a hand pressed on Kallian's lips. "One more thing – I would never hurt you, you know that?"

"I know,"Kallian spoke softly – she knew what Leliana was talking about. "Can –the rest of it – wait until morning?"

"Yes. It's been a tiring day. Can you take me to bed?"

She could. She could head to the closest tent, which, fortunately, was the empty one, and crawl with her beloved on the same bedroll. She could hold her all night, and Kallian did so, after she tossed her cloak and her weapons in a corner of the tent and snug inside the warm fur coverings and kissed a half asleep Leliana squarely on the lips.