A/N: Oh my god…SO much angst…

Every existence is nothing more than a series of moments that add up to a life. Some are so small, so mediocre that they pass by without notice, seemingly inconsequential though vital to the larger scheme of things. Others you cannot help but recognize, so immediate and all encompassing that demand attention. These are the ones that stick with you, that live on the edges of your subconscious and shape who you become. Such a moment was unfolding in the royal bed chamber of Denerim, and both inhabitants could only stand by and watch as it reshaped their lives into Maker only knew what.

"I did try to explain," Alistair said at length, hand reaching to gently take the missive.

"I'm still waiting for the explanation to come," Elissa said softly, waving the paper in the air, "this only teases at the edges of something that promises to be painful."

"Maybe we should sit down," Alistair coaxed, hand's still seeking out the letter.

"Don't treat me as some sort of unbalanced shrew, Alistair," Elissa cried, dancing away, "whatever it is, just speak the words. Do not soften the blow."

"You have to know…when I made that promise I had no idea…Elissa," Alistair sighed in frustration, "how was I to know what was to become of us?"

"And how am I to know the same damn thing when you keep talking in circles? You want to know what's to become of us? Then answer the question!"

"Bloody well fine," Alistair muttered, rubbing his hands over his face, "You remember what I told you about the calling? No one can outrun it, Elissa, not kings, not soldiers, not the sodding hero of Ferelden. It's going to come for Harlow as sure as it will come for me, and that is the cold hard reality of life."

"I know that," Elissa whispered.

"You've never seen a darkspawn, so maybe you can't grasp the horror that lies in wait," Alistair muttered darkly, shadows of nightmares flickering in his gaze, "but for the wardens? It is a blessing to die on the field, fresh air wafting over your corpse, because the alternative is far grimmer. You are surrounded by stone and time looses all meaning. You watch your skin turn black and splinter and with every passing day you start to look more like them and less like you. And through it all, you hear the call, a driving, persistent, siren song luring you to a madness that can't be named. That is what is waiting for myself, for Harlow, for every Warden that survives the joining."

Elissa said nothing, tears welling in her eyes. Alistair swore in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. So badly did he want to go to her and offer comfort and kisses, smoothing the worry from her brow with murmured sweet nothings. But it would have to wait, for he knew he had not revealed the most important part of this sordid tale.

"So yes," he said softly, "I made a promise. A promise only I could deliver. She begged me, Elissa, even as she handed my heart back to me, she begged me to see that horror through with her. At the time I would have offered her anything just to ease her mind. You have to remember I loved her, and I would have jumped at any chance to be with her, in whatever, small, twisted way. How was I to know what awaited me in you?"

"And now? Now that I am here, now that you know…would you still make the same promise?" Elissa asked quietly, voice trembling.

"You can't understand," Alistair replied gently, "you never will."

"A damning and resounding 'yes' if I've ever heard one," Elissa choked, turning from him to hide her tears.

"Elissa please," he pleaded, "yes, even now I would have agreed, but not because I love her, but because she is a sister in arms and I can't imagine leaving anyone to suffer that fate alone."

"You're right," she murmured as she began to walk to the door, "I don't understand."

"Elissa, don't go. I lov-"

"Don't!" she cried, whirling about in outrage, a hand raised to silence him, "Don't you daresay it. Not on the heels of this."

"But it's true," he protested softly, his heart laid bare and open in his eyes.

"Is it?" she whispered. "It was hard enough to know that our time was finite. That one day this hideous thing would come between us and I would be left to explain to a nation that their King had left never to return. You married me with nary a word of this horror to pass you lips, and expected a level of understanding and acceptance heretofore unheard of in me, and I complied. You asked me to hold this nightmare close and come to terms with how very different our lives will be because of it…and now you once again ask and expect understanding, thinking I will send you off with kiss upon your brow to meet your precious, heroic Harlow. How now am I supposed to believe that you love…" The word was too much and her voice deserted her, leaving her thoughts unfinished and half formed. She felt as if every part of her was breaking into nothing but useless bits of dust and soon she would have no defenses left to her. She needed to get away, to put distance between her and this man who had managed to worm his way into her heart, because every second she spent in his presence the urge to go to him and use whatever wiles available to her to wipe Harlow Tabris from his mind once and for all because more and more overpowering. But that course of action would be vile and underhanded, and by Andraste, at least one person in this marriage needed to hold on some semblance of right.

"I need…I need some time," she continued, "It's too much, Alistair…I thought she was gone, that it was finally just you and me in this marriage, but I can see now I was a fool to ever think such a thing. She will always be here, biding her time until this great ballad of a love story reunites you in bloody glory. Where, then, is my place? Where do I fit in this tragedy, in this marriage, in your life?"

"Don't say that," Alistair said fiercely, closing the distance between them in two quick steps, "Elissa you fit…Maker, you more than fit. A part of me was missing before you, a part I thought Harlow took with her when she left to be with that blighted assassin. But how could she take it with her when you had possession of it all along? Elissa, please…don't walk away from me, not like this. I don't think I could bear it."

Elissa stared at up him, eyes trailing over the lines that made up his achingly handsome face. Time slowed to a crawl as she drank in every feature, memorizing him in this moment when the feelings between them hovered on the precipice of something grand and all encompassing. A glance at his eyes, so soulful and honest had her remembering how infuriated she had been when first regarded under their weight. He had been so callous and withdrawn, so wrapped up in the memory of a life lived before this one that he had no room in his heart to be kind to a usurper of wife. Somewhere along the line that gaze had all changed, and he had surprised her with unerring kindness and devotion. Despite their best efforts the two of them had managed to find themselves hooked deeply into one another's hearts. The memory of that sullen, petulant man seemed so at odds with the husband who stood before her, his almost declaration of love an arrow straight to her heart. When had this happened? When had she come to see him not as punishment but a gift?

He was waiting for her reply, waiting for her to make the choice that would forever decide what would become of them. Despite the feeling of betrayal, Elissa knew that she could not simply walk away and return to their former positions of detachment and tolerance. Even if she found she could not bear this new development, she doubted her feelings for the man would simply evaporate into nothing. She would morn this man and what he had offered for quite some time. And so she swallowed hard and made her choice.

Ever so gently she raised up on tip toe and placed her fingertips against his jaw. Alistair stiffened beneath her touch, fearful of what would come next. Elissa ignored the gesture and softly, sweetly, and so achingly tender, brushed her lips against his, breath fanning out in a tremble. Alistair leaned into her, chasing the kiss with desperation, but Elissa retreated, refusing to allow this to be more than she could give at that moment.

Alistair watched her step softly back to the door, a thousand protests crowding his tongue. No words came to him as her fingers came to rest upon the door handle.

"Give me time, Alistair," she murmured, "it is the least of what you owe me, considering."

"And how much time will it take before you come back to me?" he inquired, barely breathing as he awaited the answer.

"As I said, our time is finite…let us hope it does not take me twenty six years to come to terms with this," came her wistful reply.