Time had ceased to make sense to Nathaniel. There was no way of knowing whether he had been pacing in front of the door to Eriana's room for twenty minutes or twenty hours. Everything seemed to blur together into one blob of indistinguishable time. Whenever he would stop walking or close his eyes, the memory of Eriana lying there, looking so deathly pale as he and Soris were being ushered from the room, would flash across his mind's eye, so he continued to pace, hoping to block the images as much as possible. He hadn't spoken to anyone since he left her bedside, yet somehow, before Nathaniel had a chance to say anything to anyone, everyone seemed to hear the news of Eriana's loss. First Sigrun and Niko appeared from Oghren's room and joined the vigil. Then they were joined by Keenan and Garevel, who had just returned from Amaranthine. Others passed through to check on her, but there was no news to pass along as the door to her room remained tightly shut.

Soris was sitting directly across from her room, resting against the wall as he looked down at the baby in his lap. "She looks like Zevran," he whispered, breaking the long and tense silence of the room. The red-headed elf cocked his head and looked down at his tiny cousin. "She has his ears," he said sadly as he lightly traced the outline of her face as if he was trying to memorize it, "and his cheeks." Sigrun sat down beside him, placing a comforting hand on his arm as he continued to stare into the tiny bundle.

"Then he must have been a handsome man because she is a beautiful child," Sigrun told him, placing a light hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. Soris nodded and continued to stroke the child's head as tears rolled unabated down his face.

"She was a beautiful child," he whispered.

Nathaniel stopped his pacing for a moment and glanced down at the baby, looking at her for the first time since the tiny child stopped breathing. He had never met Zevran before, so all he saw when he looked at the baby was Eriana, her soft delicate features, her blonde hair and lithe limbs. The child was her mother in miniature. The image of Eriana in a similar state, still, cold, unmoving chilled the rogue to the core, and Nathaniel prayed that Eriana wasn't in as precarious a state as her daughter was. He remembered how one of his aunts had died during childbirth because the midwives couldn't get the bleeding to stop; but he reminded himself that they didn't have the benefit of Grey Warden stamina or the aid of two healing mages. "Eriana is strong," he reassured himself as he looked down at the baby again. "She'll pull through this." And in his deepest heart, he hoped that it was the truth.

With nothing better to do, Nathaniel began pacing again as another incomprehensible amount of time passed. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened, and Anders stepped out. There was a heavy silence through the hall as everyone turned toward Anders, waiting for the mage to deliver the news.

"She'll be fine," he said softly as he closed the door behind him. "She's asleep now, but we managed to get the bleeding under control." The mage sighed and ran a hand back through his hair as everyone in the hall gave a collective sigh of relief. A sob escaped from Soris's throat as he cradled his cousin's baby to his chest.

"Will she…I mean is she whole? Will she be okay?" Soris desperately asked without looking up.

Anders nodded; he glanced at the elf but was very careful not to let his gaze travel down to the bundle in the man's arms. "She should make a full recovery. She will likely be weak for a while, but given time, she will be back to normal."

"Can I go see her?"

"I think that would be fine. The women were cleaning her up when I left, but it should be alright for you to go in by now." Soris scrambled to his feet and darted in the room, taking the baby with him. Anders turned and watched as he disappeared into the room before he let his mask drop. The poor man looked terrible, pain and guilt clearly marking his features. Resting his forehead against the wall, Anders began to cry, his entire body shaking as the pounded his fist against the wall above his head.

"How? How in the name of the Maker and Andraste did I miss this?" He turned and looked at Nathaniel. "I mean, I've thought something might be wrong with her for weeks, for months, and yet I missed this. It's all my fault. What kind of healer am I? She will never forgive me for this, never."

"Anders," Nathaniel said, putting a hand on the mage's arm. "We all knew something was going on. I even asked her if this was a possibility. She seemed pretty certain that she wasn't pregnant, so I dropped it. This isn't your fault."

"Isn't it? It's my job as a healer to make sure those under my care are healthy. Look around, Nathaniel; I think it's safe to say that I failed at that miserably. She could have died Nate; she could have died!" he shouted. "And it would have been my fault. One simple spell, and this could have all been prevented. Why didn't I trust my instincts?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "If I recall, she told you she didn't want you to check on her on a number of occasions, in fact, every time you offered, am I right?" Anders nodded. "And you respected her enough to obey her wishes."

"Well, look where that got us. Sometimes healers have to do what is necessary to treat their patients whether they like it or not, but I didn't. What kind of a healer am I that it took me three months to notice a woman that I was healing regularly was pregnant?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," a bitter voice bit from the doorway. The Wardens turned around to find Petra standing there, her hands on her hips, glaring daggers at Anders. The blonde mage cowered like a beaten puppy under her gaze. "So explain it to me Anders because I need to understand. Anyone with eyes could have seen that something was wrong with her; I saw it the moment I walked through those gates. So, tell me; how did you, her healer, fail to notice what was plainly obvious?"

"Hey," Nathaniel said, jumping to Anders' defense. "You've been here for a week, and you didn't notice it either, so don't lay the blame at his feet."

"I wasn't the one who was with her for three months," she shouted, never looking away from Anders. "What, were you too lazy to do the spell or too dumb to think to do it?"

Nathaniel began to protest, but Anders stopped him. "No, she's right. This is all my fault. I should have caught it."

"So why didn't you check? Did you ever try to figure out why she was so sick?"

"Of course I did, but every time I asked, she refused my help. What was I supposed to do; perform the spell without her consent? I would never betray her trust like that."

"Yes because that's what a healer does." She threw her hands up in the air as she closed the distance between them. "I suppose it's a good thing you see yourself as a loyal friend because you sure are one rotten healer. Maybe if you weren't trying to get on her good side so you could worm your way into her bed you would have done your job and saved her child." Everyone in the hall took in a collective gasp as Petra spat the last sentence at Anders. "And don't even try to deny it. I remember your reputation from the tower. You would do anything to get under a woman's robes. Well, I hope you're satisfied; I'd be surprised if she ever looked at you again after this. It's not like this is something she likely to forget."

"Petra!" Niko shouted, stepping up to her and pulling her away. "Calm down. He was just doing what he thought was best; don't be so hard on him."

"Don't you tell me to calm down Niko Amell; his negligence almost cost us the women to whom we owe our lives a dozen times over."

"I know, I know," Anders shouted with a sob. "I screwed up; you don't have to rub it in my face. I feel bad enough as it is. I know what I cost her. Do you have any idea how much that hurts? All I could think as I tried to heal that baby was, 'She's going to hate me. The woman I owe everything to is going to hate me.' I killed that baby Petra, as sure as if I poisoned it. I would give anything to go back and fix it, but I can't. I just…" He paused for a moment, fighting back tears. "I'm sorry; I just can't…" And without another word, the mage took off down the hallway disappearing into the dark corridors.

"Damn it, Petra." Nathaniel said, turning on the mage. "Was that really necessary?"

"It's his fault," the mage protested.

"And do you think that woman in there is going to let anyone but herself take the blame for this? Maker, you know how she is; she will take all the responsibility on herself, even more so if someone she cares about tries to say it was their fault." Shaking his head, he turned to Sigrun. "Find him, please, before he gets too far." The elf nodded and took off after the mage. "Do you realize that he is one of the few things that has been holding her together since Zevran disappeared?" he said, turning back to Petra. "She will be devastated if she wakes up to find that he was gone."

"Look, he screwed up."

"And he knows it, too. Didn't you see how upset he was? You should have heard him out here before you came out; he was already berating himself enough before you came and added to his guilt. Maybe if you had taken a moment to open your eyes and look at the situation, you would have thought twice before biting his head off. We all screwed this one up. Did Anders make a mistake not checking her for this; yes, definitely. Did Eriana ignore her symptoms; yes, she did, and she's not likely to forgive herself for that any time soon. If she wakes up to find that Anders is gone because he feels guilty, she'll likely feel responsible for that as well since she blocked him every time he tried to help her."

Petra sighed and looked down the hall where Anders had fled. "So you think he does really care about her, don't you?" Nathaniel nodded. "So this wasn't just about getting laid?"

"No, I don't think so."

"I guess I should apologize then," she said after a long silence.

"Too late," Sigrun said, materializing from the shadows right in front of them. "I went to his room, and his pack was gone. I think he's gone, like, for real gone."

Cursing under his breath, Nathaniel tried to reign in his thoughts. "We need to spread out and find him now. He's got plenty of experience escaping from places, so the longer we wait, the greater the chances we won't find him." The Wardens nodded, and everyone took off in opposite directions. Nathaniel immediately ran down to the stables to make sure he hadn't taken one of the horses. When he found no evidence that the mage had come through there, he doubled back and searched the forest around the keep, looking for some kind of a track to follow. He continued to scour the tree line until it was too dark to see, but there was no sign of the mage. With a defeated sigh, Nathaniel made his way back up to Eriana's room.

Soris was waiting on him just outside the door. "There you are! Where have you all been?" he hissed, closing the door behind him. "She just woke up, and she's asking for Anders." The elf glanced around. "Where is he anyway? Where were you?"

"He's disappeared; we've been out trying to find him."

"Disappeared, what do you mean disappeared?"

"I mean, he's gone, run off, that kind of disappeared. When he ran off, Sigrun went looking for him and found that his pack was gone along with staff and several of his other belongings. We couldn't find that cat of his anywhere either."

"You have got to be freaking kidding me," Soris said with a disgusted curse. "This is the absolute last thing she needs right now. Do you know what this will do to her? It isn't enough that Zevran left her, but now this!" He growled as he shook his head. "How on earth am I going to explain this to her?"

"I'll do it," Nathaniel said. "I'm sure you could go for some rest."

The elf nodded wearily. "First, though, I need to write to Uncle Cyrion and make some arrangements for..."

"We can take care of that; you look like you're about to fall over." Soris started to protest. "You're no good to her like this. Sigrun, make sure he gets some rest." The dwarf nodded and took the weary elf by the arm and led him into his room. Nathaniel watched them for a moment, then took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Eriana was barely sitting on the bed, propped up on a mound of pillows as she looked into the basket that was nestled into the bed beside her. She glanced up when the rogue came in, and Nathaniel noticed the lack of life in her eyes. Her disappointment was clear on her face once she realized that he had entered without the mage.

"Anders?" she whispered, her eyes dropping back to the basket beside her.

"We're looking for him, Ana, but we're not sure where he is."

"Looking for him? So he's gone," she said listlessly.

Nathaniel nodded, "It's not what you think; he and Petra…"

Eriana waved him off with a weary hand. "Of course he's gone. Why should he be any different?" She rolled over, turning her back on Nathaniel and the baby and pulling her knees up to her chest as she stared blankly out into the dark night.

"Ana," Nathaniel said, sitting down on the bed beside her and reaching out to stroke her hair. She didn't turn to him, but flinched as soon as he touched her, drawing her legs closer. "Look, he got into an argument with Petra, and he was so upset about what happened." No response. Nathaniel got up and knelt on the ground in front of her. "We'll find him, Ana; he can't have gone far." Still no response.

Nathaniel spent the next half an hour trying to coax some kind of response out of her, but it was like she couldn't even hear or see him. "Okay, Ana, I know you need some rest. Just know I'm here if you need me." Only when knelt down to kiss her forehead did he get any type of response. Once again, she flinched away from any physical contact. With a defeated sigh, Nathaniel stood up, pulled the blankets up around her, and moved back into the hallway.

"Did you find him?" he asked the assembled Wardens once the door was shut behind him. Everyone shook their heads.

"How is she, Nathaniel," Sigrun asked.

"Completely unresponsive, she won't look at me; she won't talk; she won't move. Guys, I have no idea to do about this. I'm afraid she may be broken beyond fixing this time."

"Soris is going to send for her father; maybe he will be able to…"

"No," a gruff voice said from behind them.

"Oghren!" Petra exclaimed. "What are you doing out of bed? You need your rest."

"Stuff it, Mage, I'll get back in bed in a minute, but I know her better than any of you, so you'd be wise to listen to me," the dwarf said as he leaned against the doorframe. "She needs her father, that much is true, but he isn't the one who is going to fix her."

"Well, I can't exactly hop a boat to Antiva and drag that sodding elf back kicking and screaming," Nathaniel pointed out.

Oghren shook his head. "I wasn't talking about him, though seeing that nug humper would do her a load of good. I was talking about the pike twirler."

"Excuse me," Nathaniel said, "the what?"

"Alistair."

"The King? You want to summon the king?"

"Yes the King. She and Alistair have been through a lot together; stuff that has made them closer than siblings in many ways. If anyone can pull her through this, it's him."

"Do you think he'd come?" Nathaniel asked. "I mean, didn't he just get back from a long trip around the country."

"Just tell him what happened, and believe me, he'll be here."

Nathaniel sighed, "I guess it's as good a plan as any. I'll send a messenger to Denerim immediately." He hoped the dwarf was right because he had no idea what he could to help her.

-0-

Alistair was relieved to finally be back in Denerim. His three-month tour of Fereldan had worn him out, so he was glad to be home, even if that home included Anora. It wasn't that traveling had been all that difficult. In fact, compared to the traveling they had done during the Blight, this trip had been downright luxurious. No more sleeping on a thin bed roll for him; no, now that he was the King, he had an actual bed with a real mattress in a huge tent that someone else set up for him. And that was only on the rare occasion that they stopped between villages to set up camp. Usually, they stayed in the estates of the Banns and minor lords they visited along the way. Everyone had been eager to host the new King and that added up to a feast nearly every other night. Were it not for his Warden metabolism, Alistair was rather sure he wouldn't have fit atop his horse by the end of the journey. He had enjoyed the trip but was very ready to fall back into the routine of a normal life, well as normal a life as the king had, and that usually involved dinner parties, meetings with the nobility, and long hours spent with his advisors pouring over matters of state. There were times it was relaxing, but he would be lying to himself if he denied the fact that there were times he longed for the darkspawn again.

Alistair had spent a greater part of the morning sparring with a few members of his personal guard. Anora and Eamon both frowned on this practice, believing that he spent far too much time working on his swordsmanship and not enough on affairs of state, but Alistair asserted himself on this one detail. He was a warrior king; they had known that when he took the throne. Training and fighting was part of his life, and he wasn't going to give it up just because they thrust a crown on his head. Besides, his daily workouts burned off the copious amounts of food that was now being thrust at him.

That morning's workout had been grueling, but in a satisfying way. His guard had finally become comfortable truly laying into him while they were fighting. It had taken Alistair months to convince them that it was okay to hit him, reminding him that he was a templar and a Grey Warden and wouldn't break under the force of their blows, yet they would always pull their hits just before they landed. It wasn't until a group of ill-advised highwaymen attacked his caravan a week before they reached Denerim that his guard realized just how strong the King really was. Alistair had been riding out in front, talking to Brendan when the bandits surrounded the group. His personal guard rushed to his side, only to find that Alistair and Brendan had dispatched most of the attackers in a matter of moments. Watching the King wield his sword and shield with such strength and expert precision must have convinced them that he was capable of handling a few hits while sparring because since then, their practice sessions had been satisfyingly intense.

Moving into his privy chambers, Alistair stripped off his sparring armor, looking longingly for a moment at his Warden Commander armor that was still hanging on the armor rack. "I really should send that up to Amaranthine for Brendan," he thought to himself. "I doubt I'll ever have need of it again." But, he simply couldn't bring himself to part with it. Eriana had found it for him and had insisted he wear it. It was one of the few things he still had that connected him to the Grey Wardens, so he was reluctant to part with it. Shaking his head, he stepped out of the rest of his clothing and slipped into the steaming bath that had been prepared for him. His muscles relaxed, comforted by the warm embrace of the water, and he closed his eyes and rested against the smooth, tiled tub edge. The door to his wash room opened and someone quietly entered. He wasn't alarmed; the guards posted outside wouldn't allow anyone who wasn't supposed to be there to enter. Assuming it was Kadin, his personal servant, or one of his chamber men, Alistair kept his eyes closed as he continued to enjoy his bath. It wasn't until Anora cleared her throat that he even realized she was in the room.

"Husband," she said softly as she moved over to the side of the tub.

"Anora," Alistair said, his brows furrowed, "What brings you here in the middle of the day?"

She gave him a bland smile, "Nothing that serious; I just wanted to talk for a moment before you started your day. And, I wanted to remind you that we had plans with Sighard and his family tonight."

Alistair glanced up at her, an eyebrow raised. "You interrupted my bath to remind me of our dinner plans? Come now, Anora, we need not play these games. Tell me, what is on your mind?'

Anora chuckled and perched on the side of the tub, careful to keep her dress away from any pools of water. "To the point then; I've been getting back reports about your tour of the nation."

"And?"

"And, you have made quite an impression on the nobility, it seems."

"A good impression?"

"Decidedly so. It seems that many of them were worried that you may be too easily controlled, that Eamon wielded you like a puppet. However, when they saw how well you handled yourself without either Eamon or myself, I think you began to win their confidence. They seem to like your frank, straight-forward personality, and they can see that you genuinely care about what happens in this country. You take a genuine interest in them, and they can tell. It's a nice change, you know."

"A change, you mean from Cailan?"

"Yes, Cailan. He was always so focused on himself, his own pleasures and what not; I'm sure the nobility was afraid you, being his brother and all, would have a similar tendency, though they would never say it. They are all abuzz with excitement about you. It seems you are well on your way to earning their respect as a ruler as well."

"And why couldn't this wait till after my bath?"

"Because you will not be alone again until later tonight, and I wanted to encourage you to continue doing whatever it is that you were doing with the lords in the Bannorn."

"I was just being myself, Anora."

She smiled down at him, "Then perhaps I had nothing to worry about." She glanced down at the water. "I'll let you finish your bath. Shall I wait for you in your privy chamber? We can go down to eat together."

"That will be fine," he said, looking warily up at her. She nodded and gracefully strolled toward the door, pausing for a moment at the door to give him a quick smile before closing the door behind her. Alistair shook his head, wondering exactly what her agenda was. They hadn't exactly been close since he got back, not even in public. They had lain together, as it was important for them to secure an heir as soon as possible, but she rarely even looked at him the rest of the time. Perhaps he had made a greater impact on the nobles than he realized, and Anora was beginning to worry that her influence might be slipping. The thought crossed his mind that she may be growing feelings for him, but the thought was so absurd that he laughed out loud the moment it occurred to him. This is all about power. Everything with Anora was a calculated move to hold on to her position.

Shaking his head, he dried off and quickly pulled on his clothes. Eamon and Anora both insisted he dress as a noble whenever he carried out his daily duties in the castle. They insisted that having a king wearing armor everyday would insinuate that he was afraid of attack; the nobles might see it as a sign of weakness. As much as he loathed it, he had to see the validity of their argument. As such, Alistair had to adjust to wearing the fancy attire of a nobleman, and after years of wearing armor every day, the lightweight apparel felt incredibly alien on his skin. Taking a deep breath, Alistair left the bathing room and made his way into his bed chamber to meet his wife. Anora was sitting in front of the fireplace, reading over a stack of papers as she waited.

"What's that?" he asked, nodding toward the pages.

"Just some plans for the celebration marking the one year anniversary of the archdemon's death. Kadin dropped them off while you were finishing your bath."

Alistair picked up the sheets she had discarded and began to look through them. Several balls and dinners had been planned as well as a parade through the streets of Denerim. "Eriana will love that," he thought to himself.

"I think we should also have some sort of public ceremony. You and the Commander could give speeches, the Grand Cleric could say something," Anora suggested.

Alistair nodded, reading over the last of the papers. "We also need to invite representatives from each of the groups that allied with us during the Blight. I doubt Bhelan Aeducan would come himself, but we should extend him an invitation. I don't think the Dalish clan that helped us has moved on yet; we need to be sure they're invited to the celebration as well."

"Hum, I'm sad to say I hadn't considered that, but you're absolutely right. It would be wrong not to invite them."

Alistair handed the papers back to her. "This is a good start; we'll work on the details a bit more later." He was about to say more when there was a sharp knock on his door. "Enter," he barked and was surprised to see a messenger wearing the Amaranthine insignia standing there.

"Your Highness," the messenger said, giving him a low bow. "I apologize for interrupting you, but I bring urgent news from Vigil's Keep."

Alistair tore open the missive immediately, distraught to find that it was not Eriana's elegant script on the page. His eyes flew across the paper as he read the letter from Nathaniel, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process the news. Amaranthine and the Keep had been attacked by huge armies of darkspawn; the Wardens had suffered losses; the city and fortress both sustained great damage. Then he reached the portion of the letter that floored him. He read it twice before the gravity of the situation clicked.

"Kadin," he shouted. His elven servant stumbled into the room instantly, a nervous look on his face. "Pack my bags and ready my travel armor; I leave for Amaranthine in an hour." The elf nodded and began scurrying around the room as Alistair moved toward the door and shouted for Tristan, the captain of his personal guard. "Tristan, assemble a travel detail, no more than four or five; we need to be in Amaranthine by tomorrow." Tristan looked as though he was going to respond, but something in the King's face must have stopped him. Instead, he bowed and left to prepare his men.

"You're leaving in an hour. In the name of the Maker why?" Anora asked, standing up and moving toward him.

Alistair brushed past her and turned to the messenger. "Have you seen the Commander's father yet?"

"No, Your Majesty. I was to see you first."

Alistair nodded. "Let him know that I will arrange for him to leave for Amaranthine in the morning." The messenger bowed and ducked out of the room.

"Alistair," Anora said again, taking him by the arm, "What is going on?"

"Amaranthine and the Wardens were attacked four days ago; I need to go."

"But you just got back," she protested. "Besides, this is Warden business; if there's still a danger…"

"The Wardens have taken care of the darkspawn, Anora; this isn't about that."

Then it clicked with the Queen. "This is about her, isn't it? Something has happened to your Warden. Is that from her? Did she send you a summons and expect you to come running?" Alistair ignored her and began helping Kadin prepare his travel pack. "Alistair, you have plans, responsibilities. You can't drop everything and go running because your friend wants to see you."

"Anora, not now. I'm leaving in an hour, and that's final."

"No," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. "You have duties here."

Alistair rounded on her, "Woman, do not test me here. I am your husband and your King."

"And I am your wife; can I not be upset when you leave me to go running to another woman?"

"Maker's breath," he muttered and handed her the last page of the letter. Anora grabbed it with a huff and began reading over it as he returned to his packing.

Alistair heard a small gasp come from her and turned around to see that she had sunk down to the chair, a hand over her mouth as her eyes darted across the paper. "Oh, the poor dear." She looked up at him, tears dancing in her usually cool eyes. "Go to her Alistair; you must go to her. She will need you so desperately now."

Surprised, Alistair looked down at his wife, examining the hurt expression on her face. She was actually crying about Eriana's loss, and it didn't take long for Alistair to realize why. Reaching down, Alistair pulled his wife into his arms, holding her against him as she cried softly. "I'm sorry, Anora, I didn't know."

"No one did, not even Cailan," she said softly. "It was early yet, but this…I can't imagine how this feels. Alistair, she needs you; I'll take care of things while you're gone."

Alistair looked down at her, and without really realizing what he was doing, he reached down and tilted her head up, looking her in the eye for a moment before giving her a soft kiss. Anora looked up at him, a surprised look crossing her face for a moment before she melted against him, a softness on her face that he had never seen before. Wrapping his arms around her, Alistair pulled her against him, kissing her again, a bit more deeply this time. "Thank you. I will be back as soon as I can." Anora nodded and rest her head against his chest.

"Alistair," Eamon barked, barging into his privy chamber without bothering to knock. Instinctually, Alistair spun around into a defensive stance, sweeping the startled Queen behind him. "Please tell me you aren't leaving for Amaranthine today. Tell me I misheard."

Alistair's jaw tightened at the Arl's impertinence. "You heard correctly. You may enter by the way."

Eamon stopped short for a moment, surprised by the sharp tone of Alistair's voice. "Look, Alistair, you have to know how this will look. That elf calls and you come running. You're the King, you can't…"

"That's right," Alistair said, letting go of Anora and crossing the room to face the Arl. "I'm the King, a fact you seem to forget from time to time when you feel the need to barge in here and start bossing me around. Now, I'm going to Amaranthine, and you will just have to deal with it." He glanced back at Anora who gave him a weak smile.

"Eamon," she said, coming to stand beside her husband. "He needs to be there; it's an emergency." Eamon started to protest, but against the united front of King and Queen, he was rather powerless. Growling in anger, he turned and stormed out of the room.

Smiling, Alistair turned and looked down at his wife who had a slight grin on her face. "Thanks for that," he said, giving her a quick peck on the forehead. "I'll be back soon; I promise."

-0-

Nathaniel rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, massaging his temples as he read over the last of the reports in front of him. He had checked on Eriana several times during the last few days, but there was no change. She was still completely unresponsive. She would eat only when someone was feeding her, but she would never make eye contact with anyone and would flinch if anyone tried to touch her. Not even Soris could get any kind of reaction out of her. All she did all day was lie there and stare out the window.

"Excuse me, Warden," a guard said as he knocked on the office door. "Our scouts report that there are riders on the road, riders flying the royal standard."

Nathaniel's head shot up. "Already? Maker's breath, I just sent the message three days ago," he said, scrambling to his feet. "Let Garevel and the Wardens know; I'll be right down."

Grabbing his cloak and bow, Nathaniel rushed from the office, making it into the courtyard as the King was dismounting from his horse. Without ceremony, Alistair walked up the steps, straight toward the rogue. "Nathaniel Howe?"

Nathaniel gave the King a formal bow, "Your Majesty."

"How is she?"

"Not well, Your Majesty," Nathaniel said, gesturing toward the door to show Alistair to her room. "She's not responding to anyone; to be honest, I've never seen anything like it. I don't think she's even cried since the baby died. It's like she's an empty shell. If something doesn't change soon…" Nathaniel shook his head. "She'll waste away if she continues at this rate."

The two men walked silently down the hall, Nathaniel silently praying that the Alistair was able to help his friend. They made it to her room in no time. Pausing for a moment outside the, Nathaniel turned to face the King. "Do you think you can help?"

"I don't know, but I hope so."

Nathaniel knocked on the door; knowing there wasn't going to be an answer, he went ahead and opened the door. "Ana, you have a visitor honey."

Alistair walked over to the bed and knelt beside it. Gently he reached out and pushed the hair off the blonde elf's face. "Alistair?" she whispered, her voice shaky. Smiling sadly, the King nodded. "Oh," she whimpered as she burst into tears, throwing herself into his arms. Alistair gently lifted the elf and pulled her into his lap, cradling her tiny form against his chest. "I had a baby, Alistair."

"I know sweetie; I'm so sorry," he whispered, stroking her hair as she cried.

"She was beautiful, Alistair, she was so beautiful, my Asala."

Alistair looked down at her, "Asala? Wasn't that the name of Sten's sword?"

Eriana nodded, resting her head against his chest. "It means my soul." She took a deep breath as she started to sob again.

Seeing Eriana interacting with the King, Nathaniel released the breath he had been holding. Slowly, he backed out of the room, giving the two friends a little privacy. As he shut the door, he glanced down the hall to where Oghren was standing, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Nathaniel smiled and nodded, his heart feeling lighter knowing that, in time, his elf would be just fine.

-0-

Meanwhile in Antiva…

-0-

Just kidding! You all have to wait until next time.

Sorry for the long delay this time. I've had a bit of a crisis IRL that was a bit of a muse killer. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update again. I have a feeling these next few weeks will be very busy.

As always, let me give a special thanks to those of you who take the time to review. I'll be taking the story into some original action now that the in-game story line is over. I hope you like where I take it.