Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, lovely readers! With mine and my darling beta-reader's schedule, it's been a little hectic. But hopefully this'll be the start of a new, consistent run of the chapters from now on. As always, thank you Princess_Fawna and co. for your help, and thank you readers for taking the time to look at my little story! As always, please Read & Review, and I hope you enjoy the ride.

Chapter 14

By your side I would willingly storm the gates of the Dark City itself. Do not doubt it!

Now he had a chance to prove it. They were in some sort of lodge: he, Leliana and Shayle. He was shirtless and laying flat on his back as the Keeper loomed over him. She was dipping her finger into a bowl that was filled with a thick, red substance inside. It was blood: Sylrien's blood, and Alistair's. When he would join them in the Fade, these markings would make sure that he found them -- his spirit or his mind would flock to their location like a beacon. The air was hazy with a film of acrid white smoke, some flowers were burning in a pit next to him. There was chanting, several elven voices merged as one. Leliana was holding his hand, it was a small comfort. The two Wardens were already making their way to this mirror.

He remembered the look on Sylrien's face when he volunteered to go. She was in shock, caught off guard at the possibility of his death. The thought made him smile. Later that night she had made her way into his room, climbing into the hammock he was sleeping in.

"Please, please don't go. It is too dangerous."

She whispered, her slender form pressed invitingly against his. He could feel she was wearing something thin, something practically non-existent. He did hunger for her, but he knew her intentions.

"A tempting offer you make, sweet Syl, but you think me so easily seduced? I must admit, I am quite fond of you, but your words alone will not move me to break the oath I made to you."

He felt her hands slide against his skin in the darkness, her lips brush teasingly against his ear. He groaned softly; she knew his body well.

"It...it is not your fight, Zev." (Zev, ah, she was concerned. She never used the friends-version of his name lightly) "We don't know if it would work, what sort of magic this is...Please, please, just stay. Your skills are better served in the waking world, please." A soft gasp as her fingers touched something hard and warm. "Please, stay here."

Zevran had enough. He grabbed her wrists, pinning them over her head. "Not my fight? My dear, I believe I was the one that specifically mentioned storming the Dark City with you. If anything, your human ser should stay behind, being king and all."
She squirmed against him, and it was a delicious feeling.
"Now, you will either stay and sate this fire you've been provoking in me or you go and rest for your journey tomorrow. I am not worried about myself...I am sure I will be having plenty of sleep tomorrow. But you? We could not have our Warden overexerted when she needs to be alert the most?" Zevran grabbed her sides, pulled her tight against him as his lips touched hers in a searing kiss. Then he pushed her away, pushed her out of the hammock. Sylrien landed on her feet, straightening the thin nightgown and making for the door. She hesitated at the frame, looking back at him-

"Tease," he grinned in the darkness. That sent her away sure enough.

The morning was a somber one. Leliana was crying; she hugged both Wardens tightly, making threats of even more violence should they be harmed. Shayle did not meet the eyes of either of them, gruffly nodding as she wiped at her eyes. Zevran and Alistair shared a handshake and a nod. That wasn't the most exactly heartfelt of partings, but that was to be expected. Then it came time for Sylrien to say goodbye. When she stood before him, they said nothing. Then she grabbed the back of his neck, pressing her forehead against his, her other hand resting on his chest. Zevran placed his hand over her own, and on her shoulder. A moment passed, two, before they parted. She nodded slightly to him as she turned to catch up with the other Warden, who was already making his way down the path to the entrance of the cave. When she caught up with him, she turned back to look at the group before moving on. Zevran saw her hand reach out to Alistair's, and she grasped it tightly. Then the pair turned a corner and were gone.

Which meant it was time for him to undergo his ritual in order to join them. The smoke was already getting too thick for him to breathe, though the others in the lodge-like building did not seem to mind. Still the Keeper was chanting something, muttering words softly enough that he had to strain his ears to listen. She kept getting softer and softer. His vision began to blur. Suddenly, Leliana released her grip on his hand. He was falling, falling...

By your side I would willingly storm the gates of the Dark City itself. Do not doubt it!

They didn't speak to each other. They just held hands while they trudged down the path to the cave. Stealth was not an option, not while the plate-mail Alistair wore clanged and clanked as he walked. With the exception of their twined fingers, they were apart. Only when they finally arrived at the cave (it was a giant hole in the earth, not a cave) did Alistair speak. He stopped and looked up, before looking over at her.

"I'm scared."

She squeezed his hand, nodded.

"So am I, but we will survive this. I promise."

He squeezed her hand, but did not return her reassuring smile. They stepped inside.

The place was old, and the place had seen a great deal of battle. She recognized the slightly sticky pile of bones: Skeletons possessed by Fade spirits. Sylrien could smell the magic in the air, she could spy the traps that had been disabled. There had been much battle here in the far and recent pasts.

Then they came to the mirror.

Two giant statues of robed humans stood guard on either side of the sheet of glass. They looked down sternly at the two people that had dared to enter their private sanctuary. The mirror itself was a curious thing. From the base of the steps one could see nothing in its reflection, but as one moved closer...Ah, there it was. Sylrien actually had to look down into the mirror to see anything. It was definitely the Fade. The sky was a mottled brown color, always twisting and swirling. There was a dark mass of spires on the horizon. She could just reach her hand out....

Alistair grabbed her hand, snatching it away from the surface of the mirror. Her mind snapped back to reality with him. It was very powerful, this mirror. It beckoned to her, and she had almost fallen under its sway. Alistair looked at her, his hand still around her wrist, his other hand still in hers.

"Are you sure you want to do this? I...They would understand if we came back. This is dangerous, this is powerful magic. I can feel it."
His brows were furrowed together, he looked truly disturbed by the Tevinter artifact. Sylrien smiled up at him, reaching up on her toes to kiss his forehead. She then pressed her forehead against his, her hands on both his cheeks.
"It will be alright. We will be alright. Just don't let go, promise?"

Alistair smiled slightly and nodded. With a deep breath he turned to face the mirror, his hand squeezing hers tightly. "If we don't make it through this, you know that-"

"I do, Alistair. And you know that I shall, always."

They moved towards the mirror. Alistair was the first to step forward, his hand going beyond the surface, into the mirror and the dreamscape that lay beyond. Sylrien followed.