"Will you end this, please?" Morrigan demanded.

Donal crossed his arms and shook his head. "No. You're a capable woman, you can handle this yourself. Besides, that 'please' didn't sound all that sincere to me."

She glared at him. He looked on with a bored apathy.

"You are my daughter!" The Fade demon impersonating Flemeth warbled. "I command you to ignore this mage!"

"I do not know who is more annoying," Morrigan said. "You, a poor copy, or you, an insipid fool."

Flemeth wound her arm back and struck her daughter. "How dare you!"

"Now that was seriously rude," Donal drawled.

"Closer to the mark, yes," Morrigan said as her hand grazed the forming welt on her cheek. "But your efforts are too late, demon. Go away."

"Morrigan? Donal?" Frannie's voice circled from behind a twisted rock. The Grey Warden huffed over and looked back and forth between the two as she rested her hands on her thighs and caught her breath.

"Finally," Morrigan said with raised hands. "Someone capable enough to end this."

"I was able to escape my own nightmare without anyone's help," Donal told her. "I'm sure Frannie did, as well. If you require the aid of a gelding, what good are you to anyone else, really?"

"Oh, for all the pathetic drivel..." Sparks of electricity lanced from Morrigan's arms and struck the demon. Flemeth shuddered and looked like she was about to scream or gasp. Instead, she toppled over dead. Morrigan brushed off the top of her left hand with quick flicks of fingertips from her right. "There. I did it all by myself. Are you satisfied?"

Donal grinned wide enough to reveal a crooked row of bottom teeth. "Yes. I like you, you know."

"Oh?" The witch raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that matters, if I might ask?"

"I think it does," Donal replied. "I mean, everyone knows you're beautiful, so it's not that. It's got to be something about you just being you. Because if you were beautiful and nice, that would just be too perfect, I suppose, and then I wouldn't even notice you."

Morrigan's eyes were heavy-lidded and almost shut as she readied herself to make another nonchalant reply. She was beginning to fade now, as Faeron had. Her mouth fell open and her eyes narrowed at Donal. "Now, what exactly is that supposed to mean? You're attracted to me not because I'm beautiful but because I'm not nice? Of all the wayward, double-edged compliments I have ever heard--"

Morrigan vanished back into the Fade, leaving only Donal and Frannie to stare at each other.

Donal nodded. "I like her."

"You didn't disappear like everyone else," Frannie said.

He shrugged. "I've been in the Fade before for my Harrowing. Maybe that had something to do with it." He clapped his hands. "So! How was your nightmare?"

"Excuse me?" Frannie blinked. "It wasn't all that exciting."

"Huh? Maybe that's how you got out of it." He leaned down eye level to her. "Do you want to know what mine was?"

Fran frowned. "Do I? This sounds like I'm going to regret this."

"It was this naked, six-breasted woman," he said. "Now, I've always insisted that, that would be my perfect woman, but to actually see one?" He shuddered. "She looked more akin to a sow or a pregnant dog with all those breasts. It just put a very unsavory feeling in my stomach. When I make love it needs to be with a woman, not a pair of udders."

"You're right," Frannie said. "I regret hearing this, already."

"Have you found anyone else, so far?" he asked. "Or have you only run into Morrigan and myself?"

"Faeron," she said. "And Nema. Faeron disappeared like Morrigan."

"And Nema was no help at all," Donal concluded. "So there's Wynne and the awkward fellow unaccounted for."

Fran snorted. "It's a little ironic of you to call Alistair awkward, don't you think?"

Donal draped an arm around her shoulder. "I call him awkward in an endearing fashion. We are brothers, then, he and I, the sort who gracefully slip our own feet into our mouths." He gestured towards a mist-covered trail of the Fade and they began to walk down it. "But seriously, what's his malfunction?"

"I suppose we'll see when we step into his dream." Fran frowned up at him. "But I don't think it'll be worse than a naked, six-breasted woman."

"I'm not trying to insult the man," he said. "I just think it takes a certain amount of effort and work, or outright meddling from the Maker, to make such a talented person simultaneously be so hapless."

Frannie ducked out from under his arm. "You've known him for less than a day. Leave him alone."

"I know the abilities of a Templar when I see one," Donal replied.

"And that scares you, huh?" she snorted.

He nodded. "Absolutely. Leaves me terrified."

"Terrified?" She paused mid-step. "Really?"

"Templars are the only people who can destroy a mage," he said. "And they feel they have the right, they justify it because magic is a sin. How do you defend yourself against a self-righteous loony who's been given the power to undo you?"

"We need to find Alistair," Fran insisted. "You can ask him that question, yourself once we find him."

"Right." Donal's voice trailed off as he came to a halt. "Smell that? Baking bread, right? I believe we've found him. I trust you'll keep our conversation to yourself?"

Frannie frowned. "What?"

"Well, not that I'm unaccustomed to the flavor of shoe leather, but if I could, I'd prefer to not look the jackass among new acquaintances," Donal said. He cleared his throat and threw his arms open as he walked deeper into the dream. "Alistair, old chum! How have you been?"

She shook her head and scrambled in after Donal.

Alistair was seated at a dining room table. He greeted them both warmly and with a smile. "Hey! It's great to see you both again," he said. "I was just thinking about you... isn't that a marvelous coincidence? This is my sister, Goldanna."

The demon nodded her head cordially. Certain features of hers matched Alistair's, the set of her brow, the way the corners of her lips curled into a smile, but her coloration was darker. Frannie glanced at Donal, who was already making himself at home in a seat opposite Alistair.

Alistair waved a hand at the vast nothing behind him. "These are her children, and there's more about somewhere. We're one big happy family, at long last!"

"Alistair..." Frannie took a few, hesitant steps toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You really don't remember how you got here?"

"What a strange question to ask, Frannie." Alistair was grinning like an idiot. Something inside her twisted; she'd never seen him this happy.

"Goldanna's a demon, you know," Donal said. He peered over his shoulder. "What's for supper? It smells wonderful."

Alistair laughed. "Oh, that's what everyone says about their relatives, but I've never been happier."

Goldanna walked over to Frannie and hunched over so that they could face each other, eye-to-eye. "I'm overjoyed to have my little brother back," she said with a smile. "I'll never let him out of my sight again! "

Frannie swallowed.

Donal leaned forward in his seat and raised an eyebrow. "You live with your sister?"

Alistair shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with living with my sister. I've never had a real family, before."

"You want a family," Frannie murmured. It was strange. Her dream had been so sterile, so fantastical. Faeron dreamed of a son, Morrigan dreamed of her mother and now Alistair had his Goldanna. Maybe she should have dreamed of her own sister. Or Leske. Why hadn't she dreamed of Rica or Leske?

Now was not the time to miss them. The loneliness gnawed at her.

"Well, Alistair," the demon prodded. "Are your friends staying for supper?"

Alistair's eyes were big, almost child-like. "Say you'll stay," he begged. "Goldanna's a great cook. Maybe she'll make her mince pie. You can, can't you?"

The demon nodded. "Of course, dear brother. Anything for you."

Donal shrugged. "I was hoping for more of a roast rack of lamb, but hey? Why not?"

"Why not?" Frannie swatted him in the back of his head. "You know exactly why not."

Donal groaned. "She's just a demon in disguise," he said in monotone, glaring at Frannie all the while. "Don't believe any of this."

"How can you say that about Goldanna?" Alistair demanded. "She's... she's the soul of goodness!"

Donal rolled his eyes and waggled a finger in the air. Alistair frowned.

"You're acting very strangely," he told Frannie.

She frowned back at him and spared a quick glance for the demon that was hovering beside them. "Think about this and how you got here," Frannie said slowly. "Think carefully. Please."

Alistair exhaled a long breath and then leaned back in his seat. "All right, if it makes you happy. I..." He paused and looked up at her, like he was searching for something. Hope, reassurance. "It's a little fuzzy, that's strange..."

The demon came behind him and began to rub at his shoulders. "Alistair, come and have some tea." There was an edge to the sweetness in her voice.

He shook his head and waved her away. "No... wait.... I remember a... tower. The Circle." He let his head fall into his hands. His fingers dug into his temples. "It was under attack.... there were demons. That's all I really remember."

"That's when we got trapped in the Fade," Frannie said. "Where we are now." She kept a hand on his forearm. Like if she kept a physical anchor on him, he wouldn't vanish like the others, she'd be able to pull him from the nightmare.

Alistair jerked back visibly. "A-are you saying... this is a-a dream?" he asked. "But it's so real..."

"Of course it's real!" The demon snapped. Her fingers stopped their rubbing and dug into his shoulders. "Now wash up before supper and I--"

"Something doesn't feel quite right here," Alistair interrupted with a raise of his hand. He looked up at his sister with a frown. "I... think I have to go."

"Yes." Donal stood up and brushed himself off. "We've wasted enough time here."

"No! He is ours!" The demon's true voice clawed inside their skulls. "I'd rather see him dead than free!"

Donal sighed. "Typical."

"Just get ready, will you?" Frannie reached for her bow.

Alistair just stood, dazed as her arrows lanced through his demon sister.

"I see how this is," Donal snorted as his hands exploded in flames. "Leave me to clean up all her little ones. How many children did she have? One for each year she was alive? Ridiculous."

Frannie tried to ignore the way their shrieks circled in her brain, stabbed through her senses as Goldanna's "children" were enveloped in Donal's fiery wrath. She forced herself to focus on the dead Goldanna and not the children.

"Alistair." Frannie tucked her bow away and tried to stand in front of the corpse, to block it from his view.

"G-Goldanna?" He sank deeper into his chair. "I can't believe it. How did I not see this earlier?"

Frannie shrugged and tried to look at him. It was easier to stare at her boots. "Maybe you didn't want to see. Can't say I blame you."

"Maybe you're just not that intelligent," Donal offered. Frannie felt her fists clench.

Alistair blinked and then raked a hand through his hair. "Yes... uh, well. Try not to tell everyone how easily fooled I was."

"There's no shame in wanting to believe," Frannie said. She shifted her weight to her other leg.

There was a transparency to Alistair. It was happening again. During the fight, she'd forgotten and stopped touching him, released her grip. Fran sprinted toward him.

"Wait, where are you going? What's happening to me?" Too late. By the time she'd reached his side, Alistair was already gone.

"Nug-licker!" Fran stomped at the now vacant space.

"Tough break," Donal muttered. "Come on, let's finish this up while we still have corporeal forms."

Frannie let him drape an arm around her shoulder and direct her down the slowly appearing path. Varying shades of purple and yellow like an old bruise, she was sick of the Fade, already. "The only one we haven't found is Wynne," she said.

"I found her." Nema's voice cut crisply across the Fade, seemingly coming from every direction.

The elf spoke with a regal tone that set Frannie on edge. In the time it took for her to look around, Nema had appeared walking beside them. She raised an eyebrow at Donal and he quickly straightened his back and retracted his arm from Fran's shoulder.

"You took care of the demons?" Frannie asked her.

"You dwelt longer in the dreams than I had expected," Nema replied. She kept her eyes pinned on Donal. "I see you gained an added distraction."

"I'm doing well, too, Nema," Donal said. "If everyone is released from their dreams and you killed all the demons, my dear, then why are we still trapped?"

"Sloth lives," Nema said. She pointed off to a far off island. "We need to rectify that."

As they walked, platforms of soil formed beneath their feet and led them toward the island. The sloth demon's silhouette loomed over them from afar, the cast shadows more opaque than their dream forms. Their strength continued to grow as one by one, their companions returned to them. First Faeron, then Morrigan, then Wynne and then Alistair, their skin glowing with an opalescent sheen as they materialized.

The sweet smell of pastries wafted through the air as they drew closer. Sloth became smaller and more matronly the nearer they came to him. At the head of a long table, he sat sipping on a cup of tea. The teapot in the center of the table, surrounded by a variety of scones and cakes, had purple steam billowing out of its spout. With a sweeping hand gesture, Sloth motioned for them to sit.

Nema's hands crackled with energy and she sent a bolt of lightning crashing into the table.