(A/N are below...)

Dragon Age: Destiny's Rise

Royal Palace, Denerim

Day 452 (Dragon Age 9:31, Month 4, Day 2)

(The Archdemon was slain on Day 450. 15 months after our journey began...)

A set of dark green eyes opened wide in panic.

Aedan Cousland, not knowing where he was or what had happened, instinctively rose as quickly as possible.

And let out a terrifying yell.

Pain racked his entire body. His hands flew to his head, gripping the sides as he tried to stop the world from spinning.

A pair of soft, warm hands found their way onto his bare chest and pushed him back gently onto what he knew had to be a bed with soft pillows. His eyes closed involuntarily as the pain again encompassed every fiber of his being.

He heard a voice in his ear.

"Be still Aedan..."

He recognized the voice. Soft, caring and exotic. Friendly and soothing.

He could not place the name through the haze enveloping him. His brain was simply not working.

He tried to concentrate but could not.

Eyes still closed, he thought of what in all of Thedas could put him in such a state. He felt those soft hands tracing his cheek and brushing back his hair.

Maker...what happened?

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and tried to calm his breathing and control the pain. He saw a face staring down at him with obvious concern.

Pretty blue eyes, stained red from dried tears, stared back into his. A hint of a smile crossed the girl's lips as the tears started to flow again down her cheeks. Disheveled, dirty red hair and black smudge marks were on the girl's face. He found it unusual.

Recognition.

"Leliana...you're dirty..."

Aedan remembered she was almost never dirty, even after the most trying confrontations. She always managed to avoid getting dirty, or bloody, somehow.

She laughed though her tears and hugged him.

"Ahhhhh!"

Horrified, Leliana quickly released him. "I'm sorry!"

Aedan took another deep breath, closing his eyes in pain, as she sat on the bed beside him. He felt her hand brushing against his forehead and running through his hair, what was left of it. His eyes opened wide in shock.

"Where's my hair?"

She laughed at what was his first concern. "Wynne had to cut it off, well, most of it. You had wounds Aedan. Terrible wounds..." She frowned and hung her head low, taking a deep breath before looking back to him and smiling. "You look...ridiculous...but we can fix that later yes?"

He took a deep breath and settled back into the pillow. Relaxing his body and trying to settle his mind.

As if being hit by a brick wall, recollection came slamming back into him. He bolted upright, surprising Leliana who caught him in her arms and stopped him.

"You can't move quickly...Wynne and the other healers have put you back together. You need to be still..." She saw his eyes and knew he had begun to recall. "Lay back..."

"The Archdemon?" His eyes were wide with terror.

"Dead, atop the tower." She wiped a few tears away from her cheeks. "It was a terrible battle..."

Aedan listened to her retell the high points but he began to recall it more vividly in his mind as it all came rushing back.

The fighting through the city, darkspawn pouring from every street, every building, every shadow. Storming Fort Drakon, arriving atop the tower and facing the creature, oddly beautiful and majestic in a twisted, evil sort of way.

The fight had been long and brutal. He recalled all of them taking wounds. Sten and Alistair being thrown clear across the rooftops, Wynne and Morrigan, running wildly back and forth, firing off magical attacks while trying to keep everyone upright. Zevran sneaking in behind and climbing the beast's back, only to get thrown into a stone wall. Oghren's leg being crushed under its talons, cutting himself free with his axe and dragging a useless leg back into a hopeless fight.

He recalled Leliana, leaping an onrushing group of darkspawn, firing arrow and arrow into the face of the beast. He recalled seeing its tail whip around, catching her across the body, sending her flying violently into a bulwark. Shale, standing over her inert form, Tiberius, his trusty Mabari beside her, fending off darkspawn trying to finish what their master had started.

He recalled Morrigan, beautiful witch of the wilds, unleashing a magical storm the likes of which he thought impossible, flattening wave after wave of darkspawn, clearing a path. He remembered he and Alistair, rushing forward recklessly, getting under the body and cutting away without mercy as Sten climbed the beast's tail, severing it completely four feet from the tip.

Unbelievably, after what seemed an eternity, the great dragon began to falter. It's unnatural strength far surpassing the other two dragons fought over the previous fifteen months of traipsing back and forth across Ferelden, on what he had increasingly believed an impossible task. A fool's task even. But necessary. So very necessary.

He closed his eyes, remembering the Archdemon, laying motionless on top of the tower, struggling to breathe but clearly alive.

He recalled his thoughts at the time as Morrigan and Alistair approached cautiously behind him. The others behind them, helping each other stand as the battle had taken a brutal toll.

He remembered the uncertainty, the unease, the hesitation. The weakness.

He remembered looking one last time at Morrigan and seeing much the same scrawled across her own face. He also remembered something from her that he had never expected but had come to recognize of late.

Sadness.

He opened his eyes as Leliana had stopped talking. She was staring at him. Her eyes spoke volumes. She knew what he would ask before he asked it. She knew why.

Thanks to Morrigan, she knew it all.

"She is gone Aedan."

He closed his eyes.

What have I done?

Hours later Aedan opened his eyes again. He was still in tremendous pain.

He felt a hand on his chest and saw a warm body curled up near him on the bed. He looked down and saw the familiar red hair, still dirty, still messy.

He moved slightly and Leliana's head came up quickly.

Her blue eyes looked to his questioningly.

He tried to smile but failed. "I'm alright..."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "What day is it?"

"It's been two days. You did not wake the first day or night at all. When you woke before it was only a few hours ago. It is the middle of the night now actually. Otherwise Alistair would be here. Wynne as well."

"Where is everyone else?"

"Sten, Oghren and Zevran have rooms down the hall, Wynne and Alistair are across the hall. Shale is wandering around somewhere and Tiberius is outside the door. He won't come in for some reason..."

Aedan smiled shaking his head. He stopped as even such a minor movement caused pain.

Leliana noticed and sat up on the bed.

Aedan looked at her. She was actually filthy.

"Why are you still so dirty?"

"I...I did not want to leave...besides...you are not exactly clean either. Wynne thought it best we leave you as you were until the healing spells and poultices did their work."

"So neither of us has cleaned in what...three days."

"For me yes. We both know you did not bother on the trip to Denerim."

He smiled, then frowned.

Leliana knew why.

She laid back down and looked over to him, trying to lighten the moment, trying to breathe some levity in before more pain came. She knew it would anyway. She smiled suggestively but it lacked the usual flair. Her worry was simply to great.

"I thought you liked me dirty?"

He laughed, which hurt, and it showed across his face. She sat up again and looked down at him. He was only in his smallclothes. He was bruised and beaten. Cuts, sealed now, covered every part of him visible to the naked eye. She knew there had been internal injuries as well. The magic used on him, extensively, gave him a slightly gray hue. Wynne said it was natural, and that he would recover, but she was still worried.

She reached back, beside the bed on the small table and picked up another poultice.

"Here. Drink this."

He drank it down. It was disgusting.

"What is that?" His eyes were glossing over as she spoke.

"It will help you sleep..." She watched as his eyes closed again. She sat the vile concoction back on the table and laid back down beside him. She stared at the man beside her.

Never in a million years would she have ever thought she'd be where she currently was.

Raised in Orlais, her mother, a Ferelden and servant to an Orlesian noblewoman who left only after things had gotten nasty following the occupation's end, Leliana had had a difficult time for much of her life.

Her mother had died when she was very young, leaving her all alone. Her father was mostly an unknown, but she knew he had been a chevalier from what she had learned later. Whether or not her mother had lain with a chevalier willingly or not was also unknown to her. It seemed unlikely to her.

Lady Cecile had raised her as best she could but she was already very old by the time Leliana was only twelve. But the wise old noble had noticed the girl had certain skills. And that she was growing into a beautiful young woman. Decisions were made.

At thirteen, she had been sent to a school. An unusual school. One where girls were taught everything from mathematics and history, to manipulation and seduction. The killing came a little later.

Leliana had excelled. Agile and beautiful, by sixteen she was apprenticed out to a bardmaster to learn under more realistic circumstances.

She was sent to Marjolaine.

At seventeen she had seduced and killed her first man. A chevalier in Lydes with a penchant for young girls. Leliana had played the part to perfection. The lumbering man had his way with her then fell asleep beside his latest conquest. He never woke.

By nineteen she had killed four more men, and one woman, all by seduction. But her talents for acquiring information began to take precedence to her talents for seduction and assassination. Plus, her skills with a blade, and with a bow, something she found she readily enjoyed, had greatly improved. As a result Marjolaine began sending her farther afield. Often alone.

To Mont-de-glace, Val Firmin, Montsimmard, Montfort and Val Royeaux itself.

Then, at twenty, Marjolaine had taken her to Jader.

There, Leliana had fallen into a more personal relationship with her bardmaster. It was her first such encounter. She had been fond of boys, and girls, before of course, but never for long. She always kept her feelings in check. Sex was a weapon. A means to an end. A bard could not afford to let herself feel things that could interfere with more important tasks.

She'd adhered to that with ease, seducing men and women for both business and pleasure. Some she'd killed as she was supposed to. Others she's simply used for information or access.

She'd become something of a master at it by then.

But not with Marjolaine. Marjolaine, perhaps because of her status, age and position was different. Leliana found she'd slipped into a comfort level with Marjolaine previously unknown. In retrospect she had fallen in quite easily.

Unfortunately it was also planned by her bardmaster.

Nearing her twenty second birthday, Marjolaine had taken her to Denerim. There she's found herself involved in things that began to make her uncomfortable. The internal politics of the game were one thing. Secrets which could spark great wars were quite another.

She'd learned Marjolaine had been involved in these things. Very involved. Most bards would steer well clear of such external issues and treasonous espionage, preferring to remain players in their great game instead. Not Marjolaine. And Leliana, being devoted and concerned for her lover, despite the fear and doubt creeping into the back of her mind, went through with her missions, trying to help Marjolaine in the process.

And she was betrayed for her efforts. By Marjolaine.

Her love had even stabbed her herself. A part of Leliana had died that day.

Marjolaine had her captured, blamed, and tortured for acts her bardmaster had committed. She'd spent over a month in that dungeon. Starving, eating gruel, being beaten, questioned, often each at odds with one another or for no apparent purpose. The guards had her wounds tended to each time so she could be wrung through it all again later. Finally the questioning and torture stopped and they'd seemed to have forgotten her. For a time.

Leliana sat up on the bed and stared down at Aedan. He knew some of this of course. But not all.

She'd never told him the rest.

She'd never told anyone why they'd stopped beating her. Why they'd healed her each time. Why she'd gone from quietly enduring to an outright sobbing wreck before she'd finally escaped.

A few tears fell from her eyes as she recalled the escape. With the help of some mysterious benefactor. Killing her way with through the dungeons. Freeing others while finding friends dead.

She'd done all she could. She ran. Fortunately Revered Mother Dorothea had found her, healed her, and set her on a path. Her choice.

Back to Marjolaine, and revenge.

But she could not do it. Could not kill a woman she still loved, despite her betrayal.

Instead she ran again, and ended up back in a Chantry in a little town called Lothering. She hurt. She hid. She lost herself as best she could.

For two years she'd prayed, worked and lived a simple existence. It had healed her, both physically and mentally. Not completely of course, nothing ever would. And it had not driven her former life from her as she had expected.

Hurt as she was, she grew bored. She missed the intrigue and action, the camaraderie and even the game. A part of her, despite it being insane, even missed Marjolaine.

But she knew she could never go back. So she resigned herself to a simple existence and prepared to spend her days a lonely, bored sister.

For two full years.

Until news spread of the darkspawn.

The dreams had started soon after. Vivid and unbending. They were less dreams to her than perhaps visions. Instructions even. The images were so real, so clear.

When Aedan, Alistair and Morrigan had walked into that tavern, she'd immediately known what she was meant to do. It was as if the visions had crystallized into clarity at the moment her eyes fell on them. Hearing that they were Grey Wardens sealed it for her. She'd immediately flung herself back into action. Never looking back.

She laid back down beside Aedan, wrapping her arm through his as he slept, as he snored lightly. She looked up at his face, ragged and still dirty.

No. She'd never thought she'd be here. Never in a million years.

Near sunrise, a cool breeze from an open window hit Aedan's face, causing his eyes to open once again. He gently moved his arms and legs, getting a feel for just how sore he was going to be.

The answer came in waves.

He stifled a groan and moved his head to the side. Leliana was asleep beside him. She looked worried, even in her sleep.

He moved his legs again and pushed himself up slowly into a sitting position. Closing his eyes, fighting off the pain, he swung his legs from the bed.

Gripping the table beside the bed, he pulled himself onto his feet.

He felt like an old man. An old man who'd just fallen off a mountain.

Dizzy at first, he had been inert for most of two full days, he slowly moved his feet, all the while looking down at the beautiful young woman who he knew had not left his side since he'd been in that bed.

It had been a long, strange trip to say the least.

Meeting her in a tavern, a chantry sister no less. Or so they had thought at least. Well, he and Alistair had thought. Morrigan had seemed to know almost immediately that she was much more than she portrayed herself as.

Aedan frowned to himself.

Morrigan.

He was not mad, or upset, or even hurt. Only worried.

His relationship with the witch was beyond complicated.

Meeting deep in the Wilds, they had taken an immediate liking to one another. Soon after leaving Lothering, probably partly because there was now another beautiful woman present, she had begun to spend more time with Aedan.

Guard shifts, the long walks on the roads. Even when cooking, a task she had hated but was forced into because everyone else was just so bad, her normal demeanor, curt and taciturn to say the least, disappeared where it concerned him.

And only him at first. Save the dog of course, though she had tried, and failed, to keep that quiet.

She had despised Alistair from the start. A complete and utter fool she had called him. She was practically fit to be tied after she'd learned just who Alistair actually was.

Truthfully so had Aedan, and Leliana as well for that matter. Only Wynne seemed unsurprised. No one else seemed to care. Though Zevran saw opportunity knocking to be sure.

The others she toyed with, or teased, or sometimes denigrated, depending on where they were, or what they were doing.

Aedan saw through her immediately however.

Her manner was but a defense mechanism. A life mostly alone, a life in the Wilds had taught her, as had her mother to be sure, that survival and power were all that one could count on.

She was not wrong at all in that regard, at least in Aedan's mind. His own losses, and what seemed to be a life of constant battle, had taught him since that she had a point. But she took it to extremes. Mostly to protect herself, and her feelings. Those feelings she always swore she did not have.

But it was actually those feelings that had changed things.

The playful banter between the witch and the warden had turned rather quickly into a physical relationship. Sneaking off in the night, manipulating guard shifts so they could stand watch together. Any chance the two had gotten was spent with one on top of the other in some way. They were far from quiet about it to be honest.

Alistair had been disgusted, and more than a little worried. Wynne as well. Zevran had of course egged them on, asking only to watch, or even share. Morrigan had not reacted very well to that.

Sten and Oghren did not care, well, Oghren did, but only after he'd caught Morrigan naked, coming from a stream one night. He'd barely survived. Only a natural dwarven resistance to magic had probably saved him.

Leliana had been rather supportive. A fact that caused Morrigan no small amount of consternation over time. Especially since the bard was nearly as close to Aedan as the witch was herself.

But they had continued, unabated, save a few minor hiccups concerning a few pretty young ladies in Redcliffe who had been overjoyed at Aedan helping them. Both had kissed him, something he did not even think twice on really.

Morrigan had. And she had not been pleased. To his surprise. And hers.

The entirety of their supposed relationship was based on physical gratification, at least as far as she had explained it to him when they'd started. He had actually agreed under the circumstances, given their task. Truthfully, Aedan had expected to die, or watch her die, or Alistair or someone else. Getting too close seemed a mistake.

But things had changed.

They had gotten closer. Much closer.

After he had slain Flemeth, supposedly, and after she had given him the ring. After so many nights together, Morrigan clearly began to slowly change. To withdraw.

She had stopped laughing, stopped being playful. Her moods had grown darker again, more concerned. She'd stopped sleeping. She constantly read from her books, especially her mother's Grimoire. Studying, learning, seeking answers to questions she would not speak of. Aedan really had started to worry about her.

Finally she began to push him away, refusing his advances and never making any of her own. Aedan had been perplexed at first, but he tended to shrug such things off. Morrigan was Morrigan after all.

It did not matter much anyway as her initial misgivings coincided with the long, disastrous trek through the Deep Roads. There was no time for such things beneath the earth. But after, after they'd had many problems. Even fights.

On the way to find the Dalish, late at night in camp, she had confronted him.

Breaking his train of thought, Aedan moved his legs slowly, walking for the first time. It felt great to move but terrible in doing so. The pain was still there, but he seemed to be adjusting.

He stood at the foot of the bed. Leliana was still sound asleep. Curled up tightly. She must have been exhausted.

He moved towards the fire, walking slowly. Reaching a chair he sat down, wincing as the pain shot through him as he bent over. He stared at the flames.

Sighing he recalled what his witch had said.

She loved him.

Though she had much difficulty in saying it.

And she begged him to leave her. To end their dalliance. She said all depended on it.

He had no idea what she had meant. Confusion was the only thing he felt. She tried to explain, going on and on about weakness and trivial matters taking on too much importance.

He did not disagree with her premise, now was no time for love to be sure, but he felt she was over thinking things. He knew they had grown close, very close. He knew he loved her as well but felt it not exactly the right time for such things. To be honest, he felt it best they wait until after defeating the Archdemon and ending the Blight.

So he had set her down, explained to her that while she had valid concerns, concerns he understood, she was simply making too much of it at the time. All her fears, and his as well, could be addressed once they had won. Once their mission had been a success. And if they were to fail...then it would not matter. Why be concerned until then?

He was only being pragmatic. He'd expected her to understand and agree.

Far from it.

Instead, she had only looked so sad as he'd said it.

He actually thought she would cry. He had not expected that. It had shocked him to his core.

She never responded to him, only rose and walked away.

Neither had spoken much after for a few days. Morrigan simply ignored him. When they did talk she persisted. They had to stop and she had to be free from him. She could not do it alone, he had to agree. He had to tell her he did not love her. She was not strong enough on her own. Aedan had begun to get a little angry with her so he began to ignore her in return, hoping she would come to her senses.

A difficult proposition living in a confined camp every night.

And then Morrigan had done something he never thought she would have been capable of.

She'd sought help.

Wandering through the Brecilian Forest, for weeks on end as they searched in vain for a Dalish clan, she'd befriended Leliana.

It went poorly at first. Leliana, used to the witch's barbed tongue, did not believe her earnest. But after a few days, and more than a few quiet discussions, Leliana began to spend more time with Morrigan.

For weeks the bard and witch talked, every night. Quietly, away from the others. None knew what they spoke of.

Aedan still did not know.

Even later, the bard had refused to speak of any of it.

But wandering through the forest, then finally finding a Dalish clan, then having to fight, then free werewolves and end what was essentially a blood vendetta, Leliana had finally taken it on herself to speak to Aedan about Morrigan.

Where the witch had failed, the bard had not.

Aedan stirred in the chair. He turned and looked back to the bed. Leliana was still sound asleep.

He smiled to himself as he remembered her words. She'd been so clear, so concise.

So right.

He'd approached Morrigan soon after bringing Zathrian's body back to the Dalish. They'd sat and talked for most of that night.

He still did not understand. Not what she wanted. Not her. Not anything really.

But he'd told her it was over. That she was free and that he'd hoped that at least they could remain close.

She had only nodded to him. Rose and kissed him, confusing him even more. He had stared into her yellow eyes as they had started to water. Then she'd crawled into her tent, alone, and did not come out until late the following morning.

The next day, things were different.

Aedan, having dozed off still sitting in the chair, felt a pair of hands brush his shoulders and curl up to his neck, waking him gently.

"Why are you out of bed?"

He grabbed the hands and brought Leliana around to face him. She sat on the floor between his legs in front of the fire. She gently placed her hands on his thighs. He did not wince, though it did actually spark some pain.

He looked down into her blue eyes. She stared back at him. Still dirty.

He only shrugged.

She turned around and faced the fire, leaning back against him only a little. Mindful of his injuries.

Aedan could only smile at how strange life could be.

Leaving the Dalish, treaties all secured, they had departed for Redcliffe and Eamon without delay. Reports of darkspawn raids had increased and the dreams had gotten more intense. The time was coming.

Aedan, not depressed really, but still rather melancholy, spent a good deal of the three weeks in Redcliffe, preparing to leave for Denerim, in the tavern. Every day actually. Most days into the nights as well.

He'd been a little indulgent. Uncharacteristic to be sure.

Leliana had finally come to drag him back to the castle each night, when he could walk. Later she had simply joined him as everyone else was busy except them.

It wasn't just Morrigan. She was perhaps the catalyst. An enigma he could not understand. But rather it was everything, the entire trip, weighing on him finally. They had been traveling for a just over a full year.

Ostagar, Lothering, the Circle, Warden's Keep, Denerim, Redcliffe, the Circle, back to Redcliffe, back to Denerim, the Lake Calenhad docks, Haven, Redcliffe, back to the Wilds to kill Flemeth, Redcliffe again, Honnleath, Orzammar, the Deep Roads, back to Orzammar, Redcliffe to the Brecilian, all over the damn forest, back to Redcliffe.

Exhaustion was certainly a factor. So was doubt. And loss.

He'd been going since the slaughter of his family in Highever. Time to think but never time to dwell.

After uniting the army with the treaties, and with only Denerim remaining, all he could do was think.

It was overwhelming.

Alistair was busy. He was about to be a king after all. Wynne, for her part, spent most of her time helping him with Eamon. Sten and Oghren were Sten and Oghren. Drinking, fighting, eating, but mostly helping train the advance units already arriving. Zevran found himself spending time with the blacksmith's daughter, and others, quietly, while simultaneously finding the most helpful bits of information from the strangest places.

Morrigan locked herself away, reading. She'd become obsessed with learning as much as possible from her mother's two Grimoires. The closer they got to the end, the more time she spent, nose in her books. Then, when no one was watching, she'd quietly slip away to practice some spell, incantation or who knew what. She was rarely seen.

Only Leliana spent any time with him.

They had always been very friendly. Even flirty at times. It had irked Morrigan to no end on occasion. She'd gone from a quirky chantry sister to a rejuvenated bard. Hiding from what she once was, to slowly re-embracing it. A total about face.

Alistair had always said she looked so sad, especially early on. But after time, and after she stopped fighting herself, she seemed to relish the journey. The sadness was still there at times. Everyone really saw it, especially after confronting Marjolaine. But she had changed over their journey. More than anyone.

He looked down again at her now, placing a hand on her head, running his fingers through her red hair. She leaned back into his hands, careful not to place too much pressure on him as she sat between his legs, staring at the fire with him.

They had talked a great deal over their journey, as much, if not more than he and Morrigan had. Leliana had been much easier to talk to, especially after she dropped the chantry facade.

Both had spoken of things the other had never told anyone else. They'd developed a trust, a kinship that was surprising to them both. He learned of why she was in Ferelden, what had happened, why she was hiding. How she was raised, trained and even some of her past missions.

She'd been embarrassed at first, even fearful of telling him she had seduced men to kill them. She'd lost that embarrassment after he'd told her of his many indiscretions, to include why he was forced to leave Cumberland, and even how his last one had gotten an innocent girl killed.

Both were imperfect. Both had their ghosts. Close before, both had gotten closer to one another over those weeks than either thought possible.

It had happened rather innocently really.

Walking back to the castle rather late, and more than a little drunk, Leliana, graceful bard, always light on her toes and never, ever dirty, had tripped and fallen down on the hill leading up to the castle. She slid down about ten feet before stopping herself near the small walking bridge.

Aedan, laughing hysterically at her, walked back to help her up.

She was furious. At falling. And at him for laughing at her.

As he'd reached down to help her up she'd kicked his legs out from underneath him.

He went sprawling down the hill but grabbed her leg as he slid. She went down with him.

Both went right over the edge near the small bridge and into the running water near the waterfall. Aedan had thankfully grabbed the ledge, and Leliana, keeping them both from falling into the rocks below.

Aedan pulled himself up and then pulled Leliana up, right on top of him. Both were drunk and soaking wet.

Aedan was still laughing. No longer angry, Leliana was laughing as well.

There was a moment. As there always is.

And they kissed.

Only a little one at first. Then stares. The long kind as you try to decide if what had just happened was real, and then if it was even a good idea.

Both had apparently decided it was because the next kiss was for several minutes. The next day neither came out of Aedan's room.

The complications came later of course.

Aedan smiled to himself, sitting in the chair by the fire. Leliana turned, as if sensing his mood and stood in front of him. She held out her hands to him and beckoned him to rise.

He took her hands and stood, very slowly. The pain was still there, but even the slight movement was a major positive step.

She pressed up on her toes and kissed his lips for the first time since he'd woken.

She looked up at him, happy and sad all at once.

Tears hit her eyes as she put her head softly against his chest.

She looked up at him again, eyes wet, tears running down her face.

She spoke the most meaningful words ever spoken in her life to him at that one moment.

"Thank you...Thank you for not dying..."

A/N: This is a direct continuation of Dragon Age: Of Noble Birth. We just jetted forward to post Origins.

I'm not done with the other one, but I'm going to leave it alone for awhile, possibly posting a chapter every so often, like as a back story. Honestly, it was boring me so I figured it would be better to do this. The other option was simply quitting.

This will be different. Longer chapters, shifting locations, eventually complicated relationships etc. Updates will be spaced a bit also. Explanation heavy at first by necessity.

I hope it turns out okay. Thanks for reading the other one and for giving this one a shot if you do. I'll update my profile page with progress and/or explanations on occasion.