The rest of the companions' march to Redcliffe was uneventful, but Loghain felt the stirring in the blood that whispered darkspawn as they made the approach from the west. He saw Melisande's focus shift as well and she turned her head to the silent call.

"Maker's balls…what…Tomas?!"

The townsman turned soldier ran up to them, "Oh, Warden! Thank the Maker! We thought we'd been abandoned again. There are darkspawn everywhere, laying siege to the keep."

"What about the troops? The gathering army?"

"That Orlesian Warden sent 'em off, mostly. There's a division of dwarves said they wouldn't march without you but…"

"Sent them off where?"

"M'lady, I don't know…just please?"

"Calm down, Tomas. Take me to the overlook, so we can see what's up."

They made their way to the hidden path that took them to the overlook. Alistair had shown this to her, months ago. He'd told her he used to pretend he was a charmed statue, pledged to keep the village safe whenever it was endangered. Coming back here and fighting off Connor's resurrected army had been a little fulfillment of that old childhood dream. And here was Redcliffe, yet again in danger. "Blighted Void, he's right. There's at least a hundred between us and the keep…" She thought a moment. "Morrigan?"

"Yes?"

"You can hit them from here?"

"Of course."

"Alright. Wait for us to get down to the tavern and then drop the world on their heads. Wynne, I want you behind us…Zev, she's your responsibility. Get the people out as we go…but…" grimacing. "Make sure they don't run. We'll have to watch them for taint, tonight."

"As you wish."

The second battle for Redcliffe was fairly straight forward. Sten, Shale and Oghren scattered the larger groupings as Melisande and Loghain dealt with the clean-up. Leliana picked off outliers. Morrigan's spells cut off just as they got to the Keep, but before Melisande could worry, the mage reappeared and sent a set of hurlocks staggering with a nasty ice spell and a nastier laugh.

There were several archers on the Keep walls and between them all, the darkspawn in the courtyard were quickly routed. Zevran and Wynne caught up just as Riordan emerged from the keep.

"You are formidable indeed, Sister." He praised her as Melisande wiped her blades carefully. She chose to ignore his familiar address this time, complaining didn't seem to faze him much.

"Yes, thank you." She said civilly before shouting, "Where the bloody blazes were you? We'd have done better to have them attacked from both sides, don't you think?"

Riordan shrugged, "Ah, well, I was with the archers. But I needed to observe your technique in order to decide how best to address the greater horde."

Morrigan sneered. "My. If I had not been in your company for nearly a year, I believe I would begin to doubt the Grey Wardens' reputation, Melisande. But perhaps I was foolish to think an old man would show such ability as you."

"I had not thought to find that the second Warden and the traitor would compare so favorably to a veteran." Sten agreed.

Riordan looked taken aback by her friends' bluntness and Melisande couldn't help a smirk when he finally recovered enough to continue. "Please, there is much to discuss. The horde has taken an unexpected turn."

Melisande felt her levity evaporate. "What?"

"Follow me. Our host has prepared a meal." He ushered the companions into the keep.

They were greeted by Ser Perth and several of the other knights they had met previously. "Did Alistair not return with you, Warden?"

Melisande shook her head. "Our king was needed in Denerim to restore the city. He's too valuable to have him facing the darkspawn."

Perth blinked. "Our king? He…" With a cough, he bent to whisper. "I see. And…is that Teyrn Loghain? I'm sorry, my lady. I don't mean to question, but…"

"A lot of things have changed, Ser Perth. Loghain is a Grey Warden, now. It's his punishment."

"Can such an honor also be a punishment, my lady?" He asked her, surprised. "I would think that it was a strange thing to have him lifted so."

"Being a Warden has its drawbacks, to be honest," she said drily. "And it's just Melisande, remember?"

Bann Teagan rushed down the stairs. "Lady Cousland, Melisande. Thank the Maker!"

Holding up a hand, Melisande asked, "Teagan, is it all right if I get my people fed and we just go through this once?"

Melisande saw them all settled at table and then, pretending to need to check on some provisions, left the great hall. Teagan followed her.

"Melisande. Eamon sent word of what happened. I am sorry that the situation came between you and Alistair. "

Shrugging, Melisande pushed his concern away. "It was necessary. And…it's done now."

He sat a warm hand on her shoulder. "You look tired."

With a wan smile, she sighed. "Long road. But it's almost over, I think."

"You need some rest. Shall I have something sent up? I think the housekeeper has you set up in the same room as your last visit."

Melisande tried to sound grateful when she replied. "Sounds good. Something substantial for Finbar." The last time, she and Alistair had shared a room.

"Of course." The bann watched her walk up the stairs with regret in his heart. She'd have made a fine queen.

Riordan caught her, though, before she got to the landing. "If I could have a word with you, Sister."

"What is it?"

"I have asked Loghain to meet us upstairs, as well. We have some things to discuss."

He caught a flash of heat in her grey eyes, but she only nodded.

By the time they arrived at the Orlesian warden's quarters, Riordan was pacing. "I know you have questions. I am deeply sorry that I could not answer them when you wished."

"Of course." Melisande's flat tone didn't seem to surprise him.

"You were right. It does take a Warden to slay an Archdemon."

Melisande closed her eyes for a minute and tried not to reel with the admission. It was both a relief and a weight. She'd been right. She hadn't ruined things with Alistair for nothing. But there was no doubt that the absolute knowledge, that in a week or so one of them in this room would be dead, was utterly sobering.

Acidly, she said, "So helpful, now. And what was the reason, Riordan, that you could not have told me and…us in Denerim? Why have you not been recruiting? There are soldiers here, we could fill out the ranks."

The man swallowed and then looked back at her. "It was not…appropriate. There was too much chance that the secret could get out. And we had only enough of the blood to take one. The potion requires a certain amount of Archdemon blood and the supply here was contaminated. I did what I could and created one. It was the king who decided to…"

She cut him off, though, with a sharp wave. "I understand. Fine."

Loghain was pacing on the thickly woven rug, with a deep frown on his face but he stopped suddenly. "If it is…I would like to be the one to kill the Archdemon. I…owe it to you, to the Wardens." His clear blue eyes met hers solemnly.

Riordan shook his head. "I am the traditional choice. I will not be spared from the taint much longer and so I must be the first to try my hand. If I fail, then it will be up to you."

"Is there anything else?" He shook his head again. Melisande turned on her heel and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind her, but Loghain caught it and followed her through to the hall.

"I meant what I said. I will take the final blow. It was for that that you had me made a Warden, is it not?" Loghain found himself studying her face.

There were dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were hollow in the flickering torch light that illumined the halls of Eamon's home. The trek had not been easy on Melisande Cousland. If he didn't know better, he'd not recognize her as the confident, happy young woman who had strode into the throne room at the palace days before. Only the straight spine and the fierce blaze of spirit in her eyes remained the same, but even that was pared down to its basest nature. Un-tempered by the life that had surrounded her, it was a cold flame that failed to warm.

Her response surprised him, though. Crisply, she shook her head. "No. I made the decision because it was the best one. We'll have a Theirin worthy of the name on the throne. As a Grey Warden, you are removed from influence. Well…supposedly," Melisande gave a tiny smirk at his raised eyebrow. I admit to some…personal interests, but they were not the only influence on my decision." And Maker help her, it was true. She'd been trying her damnedest to ignore it, but she'd manipulated Alistair to take the throne. And so perhaps she deserved this.

Glancing down, Loghain had to cover his mouth to hide his own smile. "You are a Cousland, born true."

That seemed to startle her, something flaring in her eyes. "Do you think?"

"I do." "Lady Cousland, I realize that we are not to be compatriots. I'm not a fool. But I knew your father. I respected him. I think…Bryce would be very proud of what you have accomplished under very dire circumstances." He was surprised when her spine slumped. She looked up at him from underneath her lashes, seeming suddenly very young.

"Would he? I don't think he'd be proud at all to claim a killer as a daughter. Or that the line will die with me. I succeeded in my vengeance against Howe, hollow though that was. But that is not who my parents raised me to be."

He waved one hand, expansively. "You've survived. You've raised an army that will live in legend. You ended a civil war and placed the man of your choice on the throne. We will defeat the horde. Those are things a father would be proud of, believe me." His voice threatened to choke off, and he had to pause for a moment. "For what it's worth, I am sorry for what you have lost. For what I cost you. Both with my support of Howe and…later."

Melisande gazed at him levelly. Her eyes were very like her mother's, but Eleanor Cousland's had never been quite so bleak, in Loghain's recollection. Her earlier emotion was buried again and she nodded, distantly. "You cost me nothing, ser. I gave it away myself. Good night."

She padded away from him, on the silent cat feet that came from her skill set, her spine set straight again as the shadows closed around her. Things the girl had probably learned at her mother's knee, along with that stately poise. Loghain, himself, had lost those shadow tricks somewhere along the line, growing over confident in his place in the palace halls.

And, not for the first time, Loghain wished he had managed better in Maric's stead.

-000-

Morrigan was lying in wait Melisande, in the Warden's fire-lit room, indulgently allowing Finbar to nose through the herbal packs she'd brought along with her. The witch looked sinister as she turned towards Melisande, the changeable light highlighting the little bird skulls with which she'd adorned her robes. It had been a long time, now, though, since Melisande had been afraid of Morrigan and her ways. Wicked she could be, but no more so than any of them. Assassins and abominations, traitors, invaders and creatures of legend. Only Alistair had ever been a proper hero…Melisande bit off her thought, instead forcing herself to wonder casually what Morrigan had done with the dozen or so fancy bits and pieces Melisande had picked up for her, when she realized how starved for beauty the witch girl was.

"I have a proposal for you, my friend." Morrigan's sly voice curled around Melisande inviting conspiracy, but she resisted the lure.

"Morrigan, I'm tired. I just want to try and get some sleep. You ought to bed down, too. It's a long slog we'll have tomorrow."

"You should hear me out. I think it would be to your advantage."

Melisande sunk to the bed and Finbar trotted over to wedge his ears under her hand. "Fine. What is it, then?"

Scratching Finbar's head, she listened as Morrigan laid out the ritual that she'd discovered in Flemeth's grimoire. Her fingers kept scratching even as her mind scrabbled to keep up with what Morrigan was telling her. After her friend had finished, Melisande let the silence yawn for a minute. "You just now learned of this?"

Morrigan stuttered, for the first time, a clear sign she was startled by Melisande's question. "Well, no. I have been reading all along. Since you brought me the true book. But…"

"When we went to Denerim for the Landsmeet and faced Loghain. Did you have some idea of this…option?"

"I…yes." Morrigan's fierce eyes were hooded and wary and in that Melisande read the truth, that Morrigan had known all along what it would take to slay the Archdemon.

Bile churned in her gut, springing forth in the acid tones of her voice. "And you said nothing? You knew of something that might save us then? And you knew about the Archdemon and what it took and you didn't…"

Morrigan was surprised at the bewildered hurt on Melisande's face. "Would you have considered it? Sharing your lover with me? Do you think he would have…" The Warden was back on her feet and moving forward, her hands clenched so tightly that her knuckles had gone dead white.

A chance to take Alistair with her? Oh, she would have considered it. More than considered it. To fight with him at her side and emerge triumphant together? She'd have leapt at it and left the consequences to hang themselves.

"I thought…I was your friend, Morrigan. We deserved to know. If you knew…You could have backed me up. Maybe he would have believed…" Melisande closed her eyes. Maker. Why now? Why not…"Get out."

"What?"

"GET OUT!" One of the little knives Melisande kept on her person flashed out and buried itself in the chair next to Morrigan. The witch drew herself up with narrowed eyes and mana burning on the tips of her fingers.

"Be careful, Warden. You do not…" Finbar came to his feet, growling viciously. He might quite like Morrigan, but no one was allowed to speak to his person that way. Distracted by the hound, Morrigan missed the flick of Melisande's hand.

Another knife flashed. This one slid across Morrigan's bare shoulder and stung and…the witch turned ashen as she felt the poison snaking in her veins. Melisande's magebane, brewed under Zevran's careful eye.

The Warden's voice was hard and cold, sharp as her knives. "Get out. And if you go anywhere near Loghain with your demon's bargain, I'll see you dead, witch. I'll slit your throat myself. NO. I'll take you drugged to the Circle. I'll see you made Tranquil. Get out now, before I..." Whirling, Morrigan didn't stay to see the tears streaming down her former friend's pale face.

Nor did Morrigan join the companions the next morning, when the companions set out for Denerim on a forced march in front of the gathered army.

"And where is our lovely Witch of the Wilds?" Zevran asked his Warden when she emerged from the keep.

"Gone and good bloody riddance. Let's go." Wincing in the light, Melisande pulled her hood over her face and strode out of Eamon's courtyard