Rand had led them to a secluded fortress in southern Orlais, built long ago for the Grey Wardens to defend against Darkspawn incursions in the south. It was empty, having fallen into disuse in the past years, but was a safe haven for the Wardens to prepare.

Lance sat at a small table in one of the wings of the castle, Velanna glaring angrily at him.

He was wrapping bandages around his body, taking care of the wounds that he'd gained in his one-man crusade into the Tivinter ruin. She was very angry.

"That was foolish of you," she said. "You almost died! You would have had you not…"

She let it hang in the air. They didn't need to repeat what he'd done. It slowly dawned on him how horrible he was. How evil he must be to create such a thing. But how could he balance anything against Morrigan's life? Was there anything he wouldn't have done to save her? And if Flemeth had been allowed to escape, fully in control of Urthemiel's soul, what then?

He had made the right choice in a whole mess of wrong ones.

"I know why you did it," said Velanna. "I cannot blame you. I may have done the same."

Lance nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "I hope that I can make up for it."

Velanna laughed. She looked at him, shrugged, still smiling.

"You? The Hero of Ferelden? You've already killed one Archdemon, why not another?"

He shared the laugh. "Yeah. I guess it's as easy as all that."

And he winced as he tightened one of the bandages around his arm. Velanna stepped forward, hand outstretched, glowing with magic.

"There's an easier way," she said. He nodded.

"I know. But there's something to be said for the covered in bandages look."

She laughed again. "Magic doesn't leave scars."

"I like my scars."

"I do, too."

She came dangerously close, the magic in her hand fading. She touched his cheek gently. He pulled away.

Velanna realized what she was doing, and felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I… Morrigan's downstairs, isn't she?"

He nodded. And Velanna sighed, turning away to look out the window.

"She is… pretty? For a human?"

"Yes. That's nice of you to say," said Lance. Velanna made a small noise in her throat. She wasn't too thrilled about paying compliments to Morrigan, or any human woman, really.

Lance stood. And then he sat back down when his knee refused to accept the weight. He gasped in pain and Velanna turned to see him.

And she stepped forward to use her magic to at least heal his knee. He let her. Almost instantly the pain ebbed away. She smiled when she saw the effect it had, how quickly he was able to stand.

"Thanks again," he said. And he put his hands on her shoulders awkwardly. She looked up at him, rose up on her toes to kiss him. It was small, quick. And then she was turning to leave.

She opened the door, and surprised herself to see Morrigan standing there. Both women looked very surprised, but nodded to each other and allowed one another to pass.

Morrigan regarded Lance with a brief smile.

"Hello, Commander," she said. And she laughed as she saluted. The laughter gave way to guilt and she was soon looking at him earnestly. "I suppose this is it, then?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We're in it deep now."

She let out a low breath. And she leaned against the wall, reaching up to rub her arms in the cold of the castle. She was still dressed in her Orlesian robes, and they did little to guard her against the cold. He remembered the robes she wore during their travels together, how they hadn't covered much skin. She had been cold then, too.

"I should thank you," she said. "The Templars would have killed me, had you not intervened."

He nodded again.

And she sighed, shook her head.

"Am I really going to be a Grey Warden, then?" she asked. And when she saw Lance nod, she sighed again, this time looking around as she smiled humorlessly at the thought. "So you saved me only to put my life at risk again? 'Tis a wonder you can even lace your boots in the morning with such backwards logic!"

He didn't share her laugh. He only looked at her, mind wandering.

"I think you'll make it," said Lance. "I think you're strong enough."

She approached him, a little wary of his proximity. They had been a year estranged, separated. There was much changed between them. They were not lovers now – they were barely acquaintances. And it suddenly hurt him even more than he thought it would.

She touched his shoulder, as though she were checking to make sure that he was real, that it wasn't fake. He flinched.

"I have often dreamed about how our reunion might play out," said Morrigan. "This is not at all like I had hoped. I feel as though we…"

"I know," he said. "I do, too. I wish that I didn't."

She sighed, wiped her eye and pretended that tears hadn't been there. And she looked away from him.

"There is much you expect me to say, no doubt."

"No doubt," he said. And he was standing. "You can start with telling me why you… did what you did."

"I wanted to save your life," she said. "I wanted to protect you. Or that was part of it."

"And the rest?"

"I wanted the soul of the Old God for myself."

He snorted. "Of course. I forgot I was talking to Morrigan."

And then he flipped the table over, scattered the various medical supplies all over the floor. He cursed aloud.

She turned to face him. And she looked apologetic.

"I warned you," she said. "I told you that you would be unhappy. And I told you truly."

"Yes, you did. Stupid, stupid me."

He looked at her, and she saw that for the bravado, the strength, he was still afraid of losing her. He had her right in front of him, but it still felt like he was losing her.

"I missed you," she said, and she touched his cheek, felt the coarse, wiry stubble there. She smiled. It was something she had wanted to do for the longest time. And now she could. It hit her then. This was real, he was really here. She was standing before him. "I missed you horribly. There were nights when I was up, sick, heartbroken because I did not have you beside me."

His eyes were moist now, and he had trouble looking at her.

"You know, every night I was without you I begged for death," he said. "You broke my heart."

"I know," she said. "I broke both of our hearts. I wanted to seek you out, but the child… was not a child. And she would have killed us both."

"And now I made her an Archdemon," he said.

"I have never felt this way before," she said. And her shoulders shook quietly, a silent sob that she was trying not to let him see. He stepped towards her; put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. And then he pulled her towards him, into his arms so he could hold her while she cried on his shoulder.

They stood like that for a long time.

When she had stopped crying, and he had made it appear that he never had, she stepped away from him. She sniffled a bit, adjusted her robes.

"Have you been well?" she asked. "Have you been busy with Darkspawn?"

"I've been doing okay," he said. And he sat back down, hands folded in his lap awkwardly. He wasn't sure how to broach the subject, but he had to know. "What about you? Have you many Orlesian suitors?"

She shook her head, looked back at him. She gave him a sad smile.

"I have not wanted any other," she said. And then she laughed to herself. "But there were a few Orlesian women interested in me. Oh, those bored nobles!"

He shared the laugh, clumsy and awkward. "I wouldn't know."

"I am sure. And you?" she asked. She hesitated, her smile dropping away. "You surly have many conquests."

He looked away from her, feeling shame and fear creep up his stomach. He thought of Velanna, the kisses, the nights together. He thought of her smooth, firm body, and how she had made him feel good about himself. He thought about how she had looked at him before leaving the room.

And he swallowed hard.

"I slept with Velanna," he admitted, looking at his boots. "I'm sorry."

She hesitated. She wasn't sure what to say. He didn't dare meet her gaze. She had admitted being faithful to him for the entire time they were apart, and he had admitted being weak.

"'Tis no fault of yours," she said, stumbling over the words. "You assumed that we would never see each other again. I myself told you as much. You were… 'Twas just once?"

"No."

"I see. Do not be ashamed. You are a man, desirable, and you have certain needs…" she breathed. And then she hit him.

He was on the floor, holding the side of his head, feeling the bruise forming there. He was angry, and he leapt up to defend himself.

She was angry too.

"You… idiot!" she yelled. And he was yelling back.

"What was I supposed to do? You left me. You told me we would never see each other again, and I'm supposed to – what? Just cut myself off from everyone? I tried it, Morrigan, and you know what? It sucks. I hate it. I hate everything."

He turned from her, punched the stone wall. He was breathing hard now, and struggled to keep himself in check. That had been brewing within him for some time. It felt good to vent, but he was sorry that he was doing it to Morrigan.

"You know," he said, calmer. "I died on that tower. I died killing that Archdemon. You left me. And I was alone. I was left with nothing without you. It's not fair. I love you, okay? I mean it when I say it, but that only goes so far."

And he was facing her, looking her in the eye. She fumed still.

"I came all the way to Orlais for you," he said. "I would do anything for you, but even I have limits. I'm so tired of hating. I'm so tired of being alone. And you didn't even want to see me."

"I wanted to see you."

"Then why did you leave? If you wanted to see me so bad, then why leave?"

"Because… Because."

"It's not fair. It's not. And she's so…"

"What?"

"You don't want to hear about another woman."

"I do. If she caught your eye, then I do."

"She's nice to me. She likes me. And I like her," he said, suddenly feeling very awkward again. He couldn't look Morrigan in the eye. "She's so… like you. And I missed you. And she was there for me. And I don't want to be alone."

Morrigan nodded, breathing shallow. She had trouble looking at him, keeping her anger in check. He wasn't wrong. She had left him. She had told him not to follow her, that they would never see each other again.

She remembered how she had left him: angry, bitter. She remembered their night at Redcliffe, when she had told him. When he told her that it was the same as cutting his heart out. And she was sorry for it. But it had to be done.

In the end she was right, or at least she thought so. She had succeeded in saving his life, but Flemeth had played them both for fools, had made sure that Urthemiel would grow out of her control. Who knows what would have happened if she had remained with the Warden.

But that was a lie she told herself. She was afraid of the Warden, of their attachment. She had been raised from birth to detest such things and it was hard to like it. At first. She had thought that she could make up for it by consuming the Old God's soul, gaining its power for herself. Then she would have sought him out.

That plan had failed utterly. Every day she was apart from him she longed for him. She couldn't stand to feel him through the ring, had become ill several times because of it. She had succeeded in insinuating herself into the Empress' court, putting herself in a position of power.

She raised the baby in secret, though the Old God's power caused it to grow rapidly, taking an adult form as quickly as it could.

And she still missed Lance. He was so close, and yet so distant.

And she was responsible for this shattered, broken man that stood before her.

Really, she should thank Velanna for caring for him when she knew he could not do it for himself. But she really wanted to wring that Elf's little neck.

"I… understand," she said. And she did. Though she wished she didn't. "I suppose I brought this on myself. Shall we tell her, then, that you are 'off limits'?"

And she saw the look in his eye, the way he tensed when she said that. And fear gripped her.

"Oh, no," she whispered. And he couldn't even look at her.

"That's the thing," he said. And she knew what came next. "Morrigan, I love you. But… you left me. And I can't trust you anymore. I don't know that – I mean, I want to trust someone again. And I trust Velanna."

"Do you love her?"

"I think I do."

"How can you love us both?"

"Can't I? Is it not possible?"

"I do not know," she said and turned away from him. He stepped towards her. She heard him breathing, heard his nervousness in his words.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I take it back. It's over between me and her. I'll tell her right now."

"Wait," said Morrigan, stopping him. "I only want you to do what makes you happy."

He looked at the floor again. And she was close to him, touching his hand. She reached up to trace the scar on his throat.

"I can heal you," she whispered. "Your voice…"

He touched her hand, held it. And he nodded.

"I'd like that."

"I am so glad."

And her hand hummed with energy. He stopped her, pulled her arm away for a moment.

"Leave the scar," he said. "I like it."

And she traced her finger over it, magic making his throat buzz. He couldn't feel what she was healing in him, couldn't imagine it. But it made him cough, and she laughed when he did.

And when he spoke, it was with his voice. As she remembered him. And as he remembered himself.

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

And then he kissed her. And she liked that. He was warm, good. Soft and comfortable. She leaned against him, her hands rising to grab him. They had both dreamed of this, imagined it. He had a hard time controlling himself, a hard time keeping himself from tearing away the robe, putting her up against the wall.

But he found a way.

"Wait," he said. And she looked disappointed to have him pull away. "I'll be back."

He turned, entered the hallway to find Velanna. He wasn't sure that he wanted to end it with her, but it was too selfish of him to expect to have both women. But Morrigan stopped him, grabbed his arm.

"Warden Commander," she said. "Do only what you want. I… do not think solely of me."

And he hesitated again. But turned anyways.