(200k words! Wow. This is getting a little ridiculous, but it's so fun, I can't stop! Thank you everyone for getting this far, and I hope you'll still be here in another 100k!)

71. Endings and Beginnings

The morning dawned bright and warm, with a clear sky out of the west and a mild breeze that only cooled, and didn't hamper movement. It was, all in all, a good day to travel.

Felicity wandered downstairs with her codex in hand, hoping to finish up the last of her Redcliffe notes before she left. This wasn't likely, as she hadn't had nearly enough time to scour the entire castle the night before. There were bound to be secrets and objects of interest that she had missed.

Incomplete though they were, taking notes on Redcliffe had proved an effective diversion, at least. It was far better that than to dwell on what had happened at Kinloch Hold.

She did not think she would ever understand... and that bothered her. Why would anyone stoop to dealing with a demon? Didn't they understand the risks? How could a man fall so low as to destroy their home and kill everyone who lived there?

Then again, that wasn't fair. Felicity couldn't understand. Her first magically quickened foray into the Fade when she was eleven, had resulted in meeting a spirit. A good spirit who, unlike demonkind, had meant no harm at all, and the ensuing ordeal had been enough to caution her away from ever making anymore deals with Fade creatures. It was an experience that other mages did not have. When it came to understanding the temptation, she had no point of reference.

And yet, she wanted to understand. She needed to, on a fundamental level, because she could simply not comprehend a world where such terrible things were allowed to happen. Blood magic, and demons, and the Blights, and... and Cullen. Maker, Cullen.

Every time she thought of him, she heard his words again, and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry.

And so, she buried herself. She logged events, and drew maps, and kept notes of such detail that there was no time to be upset. As a healer, she knew there were healthier ways to deal with pain, but she was hard-pressed to think of one.

When she got there, the castle dining hall was still waking up, with a handful of servants scurrying about between a cluster of groggy guardsmen and an ornery old woman with a cane. Percival sat bleary-eyed at the end of one of the tables, his hound at his feet. He was staring at the breakfast plate in front of him as if he hadn't even registered its presence yet.

Felicity sighed in sympathy. Being a Grey Warden meant a lot of mornings like that, when the nightmares were particularly bad.

Felicity nodded a greeting to Percival and dropped her codex on the table two seats down. Hugo's head shot up, and he barked a happy greeting, his tongue lolling. This seemed to startle the nobleman out of his stupor, and the man started picking at his plate.

Felicity bent down to scratch the dog behind his ears, then straightened and opened her codex to her most recent entries: maps of Redcliffe and the environs, notes on the various citizens of import, and the odd jotted memo to look into something that had caught her curiosity.

Percival peered over and pulled a map of the castle from between the pages. "There's a secret passage there." He finger tapped a blank wall in the dungeons.

Felicity blinked. "There is?"

"It leads out through the windmill. It's how Alistair and I got into the castle during the siege." Percy turned back to his breakfast, and Felicity could only sigh and make a note to investigate that when next she came to Redcliffe.

Raised voices approached from the hallway.

"…Warden, but it's out of my hands. He will await Eamon's judgement, assuming my brother even survives."

"That's an excuse and you know it. Do you know what the Tower does to blood mages, Teagan? Is that the fate you would wish on the guy who rescued your nephew?"

"Only because he began this whole incident in the first place!" Teagan walked briskly into the room, as composed as ever. Kazar, at his heels, was not nearly so.

"Bullshit. Lady Isolde started it when she had the hare-brained idea to hire a maleficar to teach her son. It's just lucky Jowan isn't the malevolent kind of maleficar."

Teagan spun stiffly to level a look at Kazar. "I don't know how it works in that Tower of yours, but in civilized society, we do not speak ill of the dead."

"So you'd rather condemn an honest man to Tranquility—after he's tried to make amends for something that wasn't even his doing—than admit that Isolde was just a dumb bitch with the foresight of a blind fish."

"Kazar!" Felicity couldn't help scolding. Kazar wrinkled his nose at her.

"He stays in his cell until Eamon wakes up," Teagan said levelly. "That is final." With that, the bann turned and walked away, perhaps a bit more briskly than was considered polite.

Kazar stood for a moment, his hands sparking, but he didn't throw off a spell. Then, he clenched his fists and sighed, and everything in him seemed to slump.

"He might have been more lenient," Percy said evenly as Kazar dropped onto the bench across from them, "if you hadn't insulted his dead sister-in-law."

"Dumb bitch deserved it," Kazar grumbled. He dropped his face into his hands, and it struck Felicity that he was genuinely upset about this.

"Kazar, I know it doesn't seem fair to have Jowan sent back to the Tower." She tried to sound comforting. "But he is a blood mage." Kazar stiffened, but Felicity pushed on. "They're highly prone to demonic possession and corruption. Perhaps it's better to have his connection to the Fade cut, for everyone's sakes. We can't afford what happened at the Circle Tower to happen again." Maker forbid.

Kazar raised his head from his hands, his face livid. "So you'd suck out a man's soul on the off-chance he might get possessed? Why not Tranquil every mage in Thedas, then, while you're at it?"

"He's a maleficar, Kazar. His soul already belongs to the demons. It's different."

"No, it's not. That's all just a load of Chantry propaganda. And that's a fact for your damned book, Amell."

Felicity fell quiet, realizing she would not convince him to step down from his stance. Kazar was a creature of passion, not logic, and his heart was too tied up in the subject of Jowan for him to see reason.

It was actually sweet, how hard he was fighting to save his friend, even after everything.

A servant came by with two plates of meat and eggs, and dropped one plate in front of each mage. Kazar dove into his with the gusto of both a young man and a Grey Warden.

Percy sighed into the silence, rubbing a temple. Felicity cast him a curious look, her healing instincts springing to life at the slightest indication of pain. "Are you alright?"

Percival shrugged. "Just a bit of a headache." The look he cast back at her bordered on a smile. "Fin and I found the wine cellar last night."

"Oh, I see." For a moment, Felicity considered refusing to heal him, as a lesson on the consequences of excess. But no… they needed every Warden at full capacity, for the road. "I might know a tonic for that."

"That's not necessary, though Finian might need it. He was pretty far gone." Percy stirred his plate, his brows furrowing as he continued softly, "At least, I hope he was. I can't think of any reason he'd flirt with me sober."

Kazar choked.

Felicity stared at Percy in shock. "He… he what?"

Percy froze, apparently unaware he'd said that last bit out loud. "It… it was nothing. Just a couple throwaway words. He probably didn't know what he was saying."

Kazar mastered himself and said sharply, "You know that Fin fancies men, right?"

Percy stared at him wide-eyed. "No."

"Well, he does. Apparently noble men."

The color drained from Percival's face.

Felicity tried to gather her knowledge on the subject. "It's not unheard of. A couple of mages in the Tower have been known to be caught dallying with members of their own gender, though I don't see the biological benefit of such an action."

Kazar snorted. "You think sex is about biology? If anything, biology is the unwanted part of it. Just ask our friend the reformed rake, here."

Percy didn't seem to be in any state to answer questions. He was pale and staring at nothing, obviously running over things in his mind.

"Kazar, you are far too young to be speaking so baldly about... such things!"

Something dark passed over Kazar's face, and he abruptly shut down. "Get stuffed," he grumbled, going back to his food. Now, he just picked at it.

A disconcerting reaction, when she had expected protests about how he wasn't a kid anymore or something. Still, both of her companions had retreated into their own thoughts, so Felicity could only sigh and turn back to her notes. However, she quickly found that she couldn't concentrate, so she closed the codex and put it in her bag, supposing she should go take inventory of their supplies before they left.

Grabbing a biscuit and her bag, she headed out of the castle, only to find the entrance courtyard a flurry of activity. Servants scurried back and forth, loading a horse-drawn cart with boxes and bags. The guards had paused in their morning routines to watch, which meant that Marnan, supervising, inducted them to help. Meila, meanwhile, was speaking sternly with a pair of men in grubby clothes, gesturing to the horses hitched to the cart, while her white wolf watched the entire scene from under the portcullis that led over the bridge toward town.

Felicity pulled up beside Marnan, and the dwarf nodded in greeting. "Is there anything you need, supply-wise?" Marnan asked.

Felicity smiled, glad the dwarf had already gotten the process started. Marnan always took charge, as if it was as natural as breathing for her. How had none of us ever guessed? "With Wynne's herbal supplies supplementing my own, we'll have plenty to last us a while. I'd hate to needlessly bog down the cart that we are apparently utilizing."

"Says the woman who carries a book as heavy as I am in her bag." Still, Marnan was smiling. "And as to the cart… it was Meila's idea. Apparently, the Dalish pack their entire lives onto landships every time they move camp."

"Ah, yes, I'd read about that. They call them aravels, and they use halla to pull them. As I understand it, though, they are quite a bit freer with the halla than humans are with pack animals."

"Those poor farmers will understand it pretty soon as well." Marnan's smile broadened, and she nodded toward where the elf's argument had escalated to her scolding them while they cowered. "I'm going to throw in a couple extra silvers, for their trouble."

"You bought the cart from them?"

Marnan nodded. "They are farmers from out east who lost most of their land to the Blight. They were more than happy for a bit of extra coin." She frowned. "Fin talked them down a bit too far to be charitable, in my opinion."

That startled Felicity. From what Percy had said, she'd expected Finian to still be in bed. "He's up?"

"Almost as early as I was, and even more chipper than usual. He keeps singing." Marnan rolled her eyes. "He left for the village some time ago, though. I dared not ask why."

Felicity sniggered. She pulled out a piece of spare parchment and a quill, then headed over to the cart to start checking stock. Marnan walked at her side, and started listing off the supplies they'd already packed onto the cart: food, spare weapons, camping supplies, sellables…

About ten minutes into it, Percival came out of the castle and silently helped load and sort the cart. He seemed to be brooding, though it was often difficult to tell, with him. Hugo alternated between darting around the yard, shamelessly soliciting for belly rubs, and glaring territorially at Fang, who hadn't moved from the portcullis.

In that time, Meila had scared the poor farmers away, and now brushed down the horses, speaking softly with them.

Twenty minutes after that, Leliana and Alistair came out of the castle together. Leliana was avidly gushing about Andraste and the Ashes, while Alistair was strapping on a new set of plate armor, obviously taken from the Redcliffe garrison.

Felicity couldn't help but sigh in relief. Really, seeing him in the borrowed Templar armor had been too much. Especially after the kis... incident in the Fade.

Abruptly, Leliana cut herself off. "Ooooh, look how pretty they are!" She scurried down the steps toward the pair of horses, and started petting one. "What are their names?"

To Felicity's surprise, Meila readily volunteered the answer. "Saber and Timothy." The elf frowned. "Hardly fitting names, but can any name gifted by another being be appropriate?"

"Who cares what we call them," Alistair said, "as long as I don't have to care for them. Just because I used to sleep in a stable doesn't mean I have any fondness for horses. It tends to breed quite the opposite, in fact."

Felicity's heart constricted. "You used to sleep in the stables?"

Alistair shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Lady Isolde wasn't particularly fond of me."

"But still! To make you sleep in the stables? She can't have been a very nice woman to do that to a child."

"In her defense, she did worry that I was Eamon's bastard son. I wasn't, but she didn't know that. She felt threatened by me, I guess. So, into the stables I went."

Felicity sighed, because this was no subject to be flippant about. Still, she couldn't press it.

Presently, Finian came through the castle entrance, ducking to give Fang a quick pat as he passed. He balanced a huge crate precariously in his arms. His face brightened as he saw them. "Oh, good! Alistair, bring your Templar armor."

"What, why?" Alistair blinked. "And how did you know I had Templar armor?"

Finian dropped the box on the back of the cart, and Felicity opened it up to count whatever was in it for inventory. "Chantry robes?" she asked in confusion.

Fin grinned. "When we get to Denerim, we're going to be refugees from a village Chantry near Lothering. The guard goes light on Chantry representatives, and, if dressed as Templars, a couple of our fighters could stay armed without raising eyebrows, even in town."

"That's a good idea," Leliana said thoughtfully. "It's simple, and no one will question why so many of us are together that way."

"The one problem was that I can't find anything that would cover up Kazar's and Meila's tattoos." Fin looked up at the healer. "Felicity, do you know of any flesh-colored pastes or anything?"

Meila protested before Felicity could even turn the question around in her head. "What makes you think I will hide my vallaslin?"

"It's very distinctive," Fin said apologetically. "We can't properly blend in with it showing."

"Wait, I don't like this," Marnan said with a frown. "Why are we preparing disguises?"

"Well, we're going to Denerim," Fin said with a shrug. "Loghain's seat of power. And he's already sent the one assassin after us; if he finds out we're nearby, I doubt he'll balk at sending more. This will make us able to wander the city without his knowledge."

"Can we not simply confront him and have this done with?" Marnan sighed. "What am I saying? No, I suppose a politician is a politician, no matter the race. Very well, but how do you expect to explain my presence? From my understanding, even surface dwarves are uncommon in the Chantry."

Fin's smile turned sheepish. "I hadn't gotten to that one yet."

"So, wait," Alistair groaned. "I'm still going to have to wear that Templar get-up? Do I have to pretend to be a stodgy, pious Templar?"

"It wouldn't hurt. If it helps, Percy will too." Fin glanced around. "Is he up? We need to drag him down to the Chantry so we can find a set that fits."

Felicity looked around. To her surprise, the nobleman had disappeared. Zevran was watching them from the balcony up by the doors, though. Upon being spotted, he winked and put a finger to his lips.

"Well," Alistair sighed with a crooked grin. "At least I get to smite every mage who looks at me sideways. Particularly certain evil little elven mages."

"Just don't actually bring him in for apostasy," Felicity warned.

"Aw, but that sounds so fun. Maybe they'd give me a medal. Don't you want me to get a medal, Felicity?" Alistair turned big puppy eyes on her, and it was one of those things that reminded her just how very unlike Cullen he was. Alistair was… just Alistair, and she couldn't say that was a bad thing.

There was the rumble of a cart approaching, and everyone looked up to see a pair of dwarves coming into the castle. The older, bearded one flashed them all with a smile.

"Word on the street was you folks were heading out for Denerim today. Mind if a humble merchant and his son tag along?"

Alistair snorted. "I think 'humble scavenger' might be more accurate, Bodahn, but sure."

The dwarf bowed, never losing that cheerful smile. "Generous as always, Warden. For the rest of you, my name is Bodahn Feddic, and this is my son, Sandal. Rest assured you won't regret allowing my boy and me to come along; I'll make any trouble worth your while."

"A merchant?" Finian asked Alistair.

Alistair shrugged. "His cart's good for carrying stuff. And get this: his son can enchant."

Felicity blinked down at her inventory list, something niggling at the back of her mind. It snapped abruptly to the forefront. "The lyrium!" she cried in realization. "Now that we don't need it for the ritual, we can use it to enchant our supplies!" She looked up at the others, watching realization dawn over each of them.

"Bring it right over to my cart," Bodahn said, "and we'll see what we can do."

"Enchantment!" Sandal agreed, clapping his hands together.

Marnan grabbed the sack of lyrium from amongst their supplies, and all three dwarves retreated to the other cart.

What followed was a flurry of activity while the Wardens gathered together their weapons for enchantment. Felicity dug through her codex for her notes on the proper Tevinter runes, hoping they were accurate enough.

Every weapon that could hold an enchantment was inscribed with a silverite rune, of course, except for Finian's off-hand dagger, upon which he requested a paralyze rune instead. Alistair further stacked a hale rune onto his sword, Leliana put a slow rune on her bow, and Meila's bow was inscribed with a cold iron rune, for undead.

Percival, when he reappeared midway through the enchanting alongside Wynne and Kazar, refused to allow his ancestral sword to be altered. Zevran also refused to allow his blades to be touched. When asked why, he merely grinned and said that he had his own method of making his weapons more deadly, and that made Felicity shudder.

The Wardens had finished that and were packing up the last of the cart when Hugo looked up and started barking happily. As they watched, an eagle flew low over the courtyard, and Hugo streaked after it with his tail wagging.

The eagle landed at the top of the stairway into the castle, and transformed into a human form as Hugo raced up the steps. Morrigan waved her staff, and Hugo froze, paralyzed, two steps from tackling her to the ground.

"Hey!" Percy cried, running up the steps after his dog.

"It serves the creature right for attempting to maul me," Morrigan said stiffly.

Most of the Wardens stared at her in shock. Finian, perched on the cart behind Felicity, was always fast to recover. "Morrigan, welcome back! It looks like you lost a couple people."

"I am but a messenger, it seems," the witch said. She stepped around Hugo and Percy and started down the stairs toward them, swinging her staff with each step. "Though I cannot say I am distressed to get out of that stinking hole you" –she pointed at Marnan— "call a city."

"Mm…" Zevran hummed appreciatively from his continued perch on the balcony. He eyed the area of obvious male interest on her person. "This stunning goddess is a friend of ours? I do believe the prospect of this journey just got more enjoyable."

Morrigan's eyes narrowed and Fin laughed. "She's a witch of the Wilds, Zev."

"Zev?!" Alistair hissed.

The assassin wiggled his eyebrows. "Wild, eh? Allow me to be one of those willing to fall under your spell, my fair witch."

She turned to glare at him. "And what, exactly, are you supposed to be?"

"My name is Zevran Arainai. I am an assassin hired to kill you all."

"Indeed? Then I will have to watch my food and drink more closely from now on." With that, she dismissed his existence and stepped up beside the cart, where Marnan and Felicity stood. "I come bearing a message from your dwarven friend. It seems he is being sent on an errand into the Deep Roads and he, being neither stupid nor suicidal, requests aid."

Marnan frowned. "What sort of errand would send him into the Deep Roads?"

Morrigan waved a hand. "Something about the need for a Paragon to settle the throne, and the only Paragon alive having wandered in there two years prior."

Marnan paled. "To settle the throne? My father's dead?" She turned away and cursed colorfully. "That bastard! I should have known he would take it to this conclusion!"

"Yes, you really should have," Morrigan said. "Your brother is most ambitious. I do not see how you could think he would not kill the king… but perhaps things work differently down in that hole than in the rest of the world?"

"No," Marnan said darkly. "Apparently not."

"What's going on?" Fin's voice asked. "Your brother, Marnan?"

Marnan sighed. "Perhaps it is time you all knew." The dwarf glanced around, taking in the Wardens, their companions, and a good number of the castle residents that had come out to watch them depart—not the least of which among them was Bann Teagan. "I was born to House Aeducan, daughter of King Endrin of Orzammar. However, due to the machinations of my younger brother Bhelen, I was stripped of my name and caste for the crime of killing my older brother Trian… a crime I did not commit. Even so, I was exiled to the Deep Roads to die, and would have done had Duncan and the Wardens not also been in the Deep Roads at the time."

"Your brother did that?" Percy's voice asked, shocked, and Felicity remembered that the nobleman hadn't been present in Marnan's dream to know the details. He stood up at the top of the stairs, his expression dark.

"Yes." Marnan's face was stone. "It was a play for power, of course. Trian was the eldest, and thus would have been traditionally voted king, whereas I curried favor among the more warrior-favoring deshyrs, and thus was a viable heir anyway despite my own thoughts on the subject. Bhelen was always ever third, a mediator and diplomat more than either myself or my brother. He was always… quite good with words." Marnan's eyes cast sidelong toward Finian, who had the good sense to at least look abashed.

"You have to go back," Percy growled. "Depose this usurper."

"To what end?" Marnan asked sharply, spinning to face the noble (the other noble, Felicity supposed). "To take the crown for myself? I do not want it. I never have."

"He's betrayed you, and your family," Percy said simply. "His family. That can not go unpunished."

"And cast my home city into chaos with the loss of the last heir?" Marnan turned back to Morrigan with a sigh. "You said the secession is in dispute. Who are the other candidates?"

"There is only one… a 'Lord Harrowmont', I think his name was?"

That name apparently meant something to her, because Marnan's face spread into a relieved smile. "Pyral's still standing against him? Lord Harrowmont is an honorable man. If he is made king, he'll be sure to help us. We should settle the throne in his favor post-haste."

"Wait, wait," Alistair cut in from near Bodahn's cart. "What about the Sacred Ashes? We can't just abandon Arl Eamon."

"The Deep Roads are not a destination to be taken lightly. Brosca will need our help."

"Right, and Eamon can just hop out of bed and find the Ashes himself, can he?"

Felicity sighed, because they were really both being rather illogical about this. No surprise, given their respective origins. "Then it seems clear to me that we simply must split up once again. Alistair will take a group to Denerim as planned, while Marnan brings another to Orzammar."

Both of them nodded in agreement, each still eying the other.

"But anyone who goes to Orzammar will miss out on the Sacred Ashes," Leliana protested. "That's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"You're assuming a handful of Grey Wardens can succeed where a thousand pilgrims have failed," Percy said grimly, coming down the stairs toward them with his dog at his heels. "And assuming the Ashes do as the legends say. And assuming they ever existed at all."

"That's an awful thing to say." Leliana nodded to the rest of them, looking resolved. "I'm going with Alistair to look for Andraste's Ashes. I know they've got to be somewhere."

"Yes," Morrigan said with an arched brow. "You have fun with that."

"Are you with me, Morrigan?" Marnan asked, and received a roll of the eyes and a nod. "What of the rest of you?"

"I'm in," Kazar said from where he'd been standing by the wall. He waved his staff at Alistair. "Anywhere that doesn't have him breathing down my neck sounds perfect."

Alistair glared. "Just because I have a conscience-"

"I get it: you think I'm evil and have no soul. Stop. Bothering me."

Felicity sighed, but held her tongue. Instead, she took her supply list back up and started going through it, trying to deduce what ratio should go with which party while the others bickered.

"Fine," Alistair said. "You know what? I'm glad I don't have to have you with me. You'd probably try to reburn the Ashes or something. Leliana's good. Fin, you still with me? We'll need a guide for Denerim."

The elf nodded, though his smile was diminished. "Of course. How else would you track down the Chantry scholar?"

"And that means," the Antivan called smoothly, "that I am also going to Denerim. Perhaps we will get a chance to inform my previous employer of my changed allegiances, yes?"

Alistair scowled up at the Crow. "No assassinating."

"Aw," Finian chuckled, "and I was looking forward to throwing the nation into further uproar."

"Perhaps another time," the Crow agreed with a grin.

Alistair rubbed his eyes, but then turned to Percival. "What about you, Percy? You with me or Marnan?"

Even while making notes on the supply list, Felicity could sense Percy's hesitance. When she looked up, she saw him glancing between—oddly enough—Finian and Morrigan, his expression shuttered.

Finally, he said, "Marnan." Morrigan smirked knowingly and Finian's smile grew brittle. It was a very strange exchange.

"Very well," Marnan said. "I shall take Percival and Kazar. Meila, do you mind coming as well? Your tracking skills will be an asset."

Felicity was surprised when Meila stiffened, and her eyes dropped to the ground in the first show of uncertainty Felicity had ever seen in her. "In actuality, I do mind. I… suspect I will be unable to perform at my best in these Deep Roads."

Marnan's brow furrowed. "It wouldn't be much different from tracking on the surface. You will do fine."

"I will not." Meila's face rose again, her expression hard. "I… have difficulty enough abiding the stone walls of this castle without losing sleep over the prospect of it collapsing upon my head. Were I to venture any deeper, for an extended period of time… I suspect I would be at the least highly distracted, at the worst utterly overcome. No, I will stay on the surface."

It was clear that this admission was a surprise to everyone. Meila Mahariel was not one to let others know her weaknesses.

Slowly, Marnan nodded. "I understand. It is a good soldier who knows their own faults."

Meila nodded absently, raising her chin in defiance that anyone should find fault in her decision.

"That leaves the two healers," Alistair said, and Felicity's head snapped up. Her face warmed as she found Alistair watching her. "Felicity, would you… erm… like to come with me?"

Her face went red-hot, because there was more in that invitation than there had been in any of the others. And judging by that hesitance, he was aware of it. It was utterly vexing, because she couldn't do that to him. Not after what she'd done to Cullen.

"I have no problem with going to the Deep Roads, dear," Wynne said gently, her smile just a bit too knowing, and Felicity felt even more flustered that the elderly woman would take such a taxing journey for her sake.

But then the thought struck her that the Deep Roads were not merely taxing, and all warmth fled her. The Deep Roads… the darkspawn. "No, Wynne. You shouldn't." She glanced around, doing her best to remember who had elected to go where. Leliana and Zevran would go after the Ashes, but Morrigan… "You and Morrigan should go after the Ashes, not the Deep Roads."

She very carefully did not look at Alistair's face.

"And what makes you think," Morrigan said, "that I have any interest in some long-lost Chantry relic?"

"It's not that," Felicity explained. "It's the fact that you're not a Warden." She looked at Wynne, feeling herself pale as she imagined her old mentor growing weak and splotchy with Taint. "The Deep Roads are essentially the home of the darkspawn, filled with far more than we can possibly conceive. We Wardens are immune, but non-Wardens risk contracting the Taint and dying a horrible, painful death."

Meila frowned. "Can we not merely cure the Tainted as I was? By making them Wardens themselves?"

"Even if they were willing," Alistair said, eying Morrigan as she scoffed, "we don't have the resources. The Joining involves certain… things that I'm not entirely sure about. All I know is it involves lyrium and it's very difficult to prepare. Duncan had a stash of supplies, I think, but I have no idea where it might have been."

"So we can't make new Wardens," Finian said, stunned. "We're really the only ones left in Ferelden."

They all stayed silent for a moment, digesting that. Surely, reinforcements might come if given enough time…? Though, if they were, surely they would have arrived by now… Perhaps Ferelden truly was abandoned, given up as lost. A depressing thought.

"Are you certain you wish to go with Marnan, Felicity?" Wynne asked gently. "I know you were looking forward to meeting Brother Genitivi."

Felicity winced, because she had been, so very much. "The Sacred Ashes mean more to you than they do to me, Wynne. I can always track down the scholar after the Blight is taken care of. For now, I am needed in the Deep Roads."

Wynne's smile was proud. "That is very selfless of you, my dear."

Felicity fought not to crinkle the parchment in her hands. "Just… promise me you'll take notes…? A lot of notes?"

"Of course. Thank you."

"I mean it. I want to be able to recreate the entire ordeal. Not a thing left unwritten!"

Wynne wasn't the only one holding back laughter now, but Felicity couldn't find it in herself to care. She was too relieved that Wynne, at least, would run a far smaller risk of being exposed to the Taint.

"That settles it, then," Marnan said. She nodded up to Felicity. "We'll split the supplies and head out."

And that's what they did. Their rations were split down the middle, and anything intended for the Sacred Ashes crew was moved to Bodahn's cart, including Finian's disguises, two crates of arrows, and most of the cheese. Wynne insisted that Felicity keep most of the herbal supplies, since the elder mage would have a chance to pick up more near the Brecilian Forest and in Denerim. Felicity could only agree with the logic of that, since she doubted elfroot would be in steady supply underground.

They said their goodbyes with a hopeful air, the taste of new journeys on the breeze. As Felicity was securing the last of the much-lightened cart, she mused that she would miss Leliana's chatter. She wished she'd had more time to ask Meila about the Dalish, and she'd only just reunited with Wynne, so could she really leave again before she'd learned everything the enchanter had to teach?

And, of course, she would miss Alistair, though she dared not dwell upon the pang that thought provoked.

It was only as Marnan was leading their group out that Felicity spent one last glance back at him as she followed the cart. He was watching her, his face an open book of hurt and longing, and it occurred to her that she had put that there.

No, it was better this way. She couldn't risk turning him into another Cullen… better to end it early.

But then she saw Leliana sneak up next to him and give him a whisper and a nudge, and after that he was running toward her, his armor clanging with each step. She stopped and waited, something in his eyes making her heart race.

And then he was there, his arms tight around her and his lips pressing against hers. The kiss was chaste, but not devoid of meaning because of it. His armor was hard and cold against her, but it promised strength and protection even as the hand cradling her head whispered of gentility and devotion. Her knees nearly buckled, so she clung hard to the planes of his chest.

It was over too quickly, and they spent a moment just looking at one another after parting, something new and wonderful sparking between them.

And then, Felicity registered their audience—complete with catcalls and hisses from certain mages—and she felt her face flush as she pulled away. Judging by the reddening of his cheeks as they stepped away from one another, he had come to the realization at the same time.

Still, he smirked, and it was just so Alistair that Felicity wondered how she could ever have thought he was like Cullen. "Sorry… I guess I just couldn't let you leave without making things really awkward."

She smiled reassuringly. "At least it was properly dramatic."

"You think so? And here I thought it was awful timing, but I guess that makes good drama." He fidgeted, and it was both endearing and exasperating how childlike such a gesture was. "Just… take care of yourself, Felicity? Please?"

She stepped in again, laying a hand on his arm. "I'm not the one who wades into the middle of the horde and starts shouting taunts to draw them in."

His smile turned lopsided. "Yes, but I'm also not as squishy as you are."

"Is that truly the term you want to use on a woman just after kissing her?"

His face reddened again. "But you are!" She yelped as he reached forward and brought her back against his chest again. His arms were tight around her, perfectly fitted across her back. He gave her a playful squeeze. "You're all soft and huggable. I'm not saying it's a bad thing."

She giggled, because this was probably the most ridiculous conversation they could be having right now. "Huggable?"

"Yep," he said solemnly, except for that crooked grin.

"Remind me to see about expanding your vocabulary when we meet again."

"I'll hold you to that."

And this time, as Felicity started off, she was looking to the future with more than mere planning. There was hope, there, too, and an unspoken promise.