(Author's notes:

Well, here we are. It's not quite over yet...after this, I do have five (yes, five) epilogues, but I'm going to say what I want to here and let them stand alone.

This story was very much a labor of love, and I can't describe how amazing it is that so many of you loved it along with me. Thank you, everyone, for the support and warm fuzzies.

Putting that much effort into something is exhausting, so I'm going to take a break for a little while. Recharge my batteries, build up some buffers. Because after? Sequels. Three of them, in fact, all potentially simultaneous with one another. It seems that those of you who have asked for a continuation of these characters aren't the only ones who have difficulty letting them go. So let me know what you want to see next. I may have already started writing it. :)

Thank you, everyone, for reading!)

151. Moving Forward, Looking Back

The victory celebration was a weird combination of high-brow and low... Ferelden's best and brightest gathered in the still-broken up Landsmeet chamber to celebrate the simple fact that they were alive. Alistair switched between following Anora around to make nice with all the nobles, and running interference when Oghren got rowdy and copped a feel. It was enough to make that first part tolerable.

At some point, Alistair managed to shake off his not-so-blushing bride. He snagged a slab of cheese from a platter of refreshments and spotted Percival leaning against the wall nearby, watching the festivities with a hint of a smile and fiddling idly with a ring on his finger.

For the first time that Alistair had ever seen, Percy well and truly looked like a noble. He was dressed in a dapper suitcoat of red and orange, and his blond hair was clean and brushed, swept back into a neat tail. Alistair might have doubted that he'd been crushed by a dragon two days ago, if not for the fading talon marks he now sported across his face.

Alistair sidled up beside him with a grin. "Enjoying the show, are you?" He offered the other man a chunk of his cheese.

Percy thought for a moment before taking the offering. "There is a certain theater to it, I suppose."

"Glad you enjoy." Alistair took a bite of his own bit. "Because I am going to make you endure it with me a lot."

Percy cast him a curious look. "Still looking to give me a holding are you?"

"Dead set on it. You're getting some sort of title... the more grandiose the better. I'm quite evil like that."

Percival chuckled softly and popped the cheese into his mouth. "I think I have a good defense... Grey Wardens can't hold office."

"Right. Well, we kind of threw that guideline out the window, didn't we?" Percy choked, and Alistair cackled. "At the very least, you're getting an award... Hero of Ferelden."

"Finian and Felicity were up there same as I. I don't see why I'm getting the credit."

"It's part of being a leader, I guess." Alistair shrugged.

"I'll be ready for that to be behind me," Percy confessed, "once Weisshaupt sends the replacement Commander."

"Actually," a familiar voice broke in, and Alistair's heart constricted, "they may not be sending one." Felicity slipped out of the crowd and stood in front of them.

She was... stunning. She wore new robes, gold and deep blue velvet, that made her skin look like smooth caramel. Her silky black hair was held back with a jeweled pin, and Alistair had to catch his breath as he realized the pin was in the shape of a rose.

She smiled up at both of them, and Alistair kind of wanted to grab her and just start running. "While we were waiting in Redcliffe, Riordan and I sent a courier to Weisshaupt, recommending you, Percival, as the replacement Commander."

Percy stared at her for a moment, but then let his head fall forward with a sigh. "You know, I'm not even particularly surprised."

"You'll do a good job," Felicity said. "And now that you're something of a local hero... well, I doubt they'll deny the request."

Percival cast Alistair a wry look. "It seems you'll be getting your wish after all."

Alistair nodded, the lump in his throat making it impossible to speak. Felicity met his eyes, for the first time in forever, and it was awesome and horrible at the same time.

Percy's hand fell on his shoulder. "I'll leave you to it." And then he departed, leaving them alone.

Alistair swallowed. "Felicity..."

And her eyes dropped, and whatever they had shared just then was gone. "I'm going back to the Circle Tower. Just so you're aware."

Alistair let out a breath and nodded. "When?"

"Whenever the mages leave. Irving says I could take a teaching position if I wanted... though I think I might concentrate on documenting the Blight first."

"That's... good. You'll be good at that." Alistair smiled, and she returned it shyly. "You already are."

"Thank you." She paused, pressing her lips together. "For everything, I mean. What we had... I'll never forget you." She touched her pin, and Alistair's heart broke all over again.

"Yeah," he managed. "Me neither." He looked down. "I'll miss you."

She smiled sadly. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get over it." She bobbed a bow, and walked away, and it took him a minute to realize he was staring after her. He shook himself and headed back to the refreshments, this time grabbing up a goblet of wine. He downed it all in one drink, then grabbed up another.

He was king. That meant he got to get a little tipsy if he wanted to.

He nursed the second goblet as he wound through the crowd. Nobles and heroes all sent him smiles and nods, and he returned them politely. Even Vartag Gavorn seemed to be loosening up, sitting up on the balcony with a mug of something that looked quite a bit stronger than wine.

He spotted Garott near the front of the hall, showing a bunch of the elves from the Alienage a trick with something long and metallic. As Alistair approached, something on the contraption exploded with a pop, and they all burst out laughing.

"I would appreciate it, Garott," Alistair said, "if you did not burn down the palace two days after we managed to chase the darkspawn out of it."

The elves immediately all ducked their heads and backed away, and Alistair frowned at their departure. Had Fin really come from that? Alistair would have to work on that, wouldn't he?

Garott just shrugged blithely, rolling up the contraption and tucking it away in his scavengers' bag. "Where's the excitement in that, eh?"

"Well, I suppose I'll need someone here to keep me awake."

"Sorry, tin can. Can't stay."

"What?" Alistair pulled up short and stared down at the dwarf. "Why not?"

Garott shrugged apologetically. "Gotta head back to Orzammar and make sure Bhelen's running his little social revolution the right way." He shifted and looked down uncomfortably. "Besides, just because we killed an archdemon don't mean the darkspawn are gone, y'know? I figured they could use a Warden, down in the tunnels."

"So you're going to keep fighting?" Alistair couldn't stay mad at Garott about that. The rest of them were looking forward to a break, but he was going to keep fighting the good fight. "Marnan would probably have had something to say about that, I bet."

"Yeah," he said roughly. "Something preachy about how I'm maybe not the lazy, heartless criminal she thought I was." Garott gave him a crooked smirk. "After everything, I'm kinda starting to believe she'd be right about that."

Alistair clapped a hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Well, good luck. You ever need anything..."

"Yeah, I won't wait to work my connections, promise you that." They shared a smile, and Alistair moved on.

Next, he spotted Sten, who, when questioned, announced his intention to return to Par Vollen. No real surprises there; the giant had been straightforward about that from the beginning. The way he hinted that he fully expected a Qunari invasion in the near future was a little unnerving, though. Perhaps that bridge was best left crossed at a later date.

Next, he encountered Leliana. The woman had just snuck in through a side entrance, and he had to do a double-take just to recognize her. He was used to seeing her in leathers or Chantry robes... but this? She looked like an Orlesian noblewoman, a natural beauty in bright silks and shimmering jewelry.

She gave him a hurried smile and asked, "Have you seen Meila? I need to speak with her."

"Not yet... though, by process of elimination, I would guess she's somewhere on this side of the room." He waved his hand in the direction he was heading, and she fell into step beside him. "Is everything all right?"

"Um... no. It is complicated." Leliana's eyes scanned the crowd, and she made a soft "ah" sound and hurried forward. Alistair followed.

Meila was located at the very back of the hall, near a door that led into the service hallways. Two Templars stood at attention back against the wall, with Kazar trussed up and docile between them. Meila was arguing in vain with the Templars. She, unlike just about everyone else, was dressed up in leathers... either because she was prepared for battle or because she had nothing else to wear.

The Templars didn't waver, and Kazar didn't look up. Ever since the battle, they'd kept his magic silenced and his hands tied, and it was unspoken common knowledge that, as soon as the celebrations were done, Kazar was being dragged off to Aeonar. Only the fact that he'd helped save the world (and Wynne's timely intervention) had stopped the Knight-Commander from cutting off the elf's head in the Palace District square, to hear Garott tell it.

"All right, all right," Alistair said, stepping past Meila and waving his arms in a shooing motion toward Kazar's babysitters. "Take a break, both of you."

The Templars looked at him dubiously, and Alistair gave them his best "I've your Maker-damned king" look. Reluctantly, they handed him the lead to the mage's ropes and had the courtesy to at least go around the corner.

"Da'lethallin, are you all right?" Meila asked as soon as they were out of earshot. "Have they hurt you?"

"M'fine," Kazar mumbled softly. "Scared out of my mind... but fine."

"You're just going to stand here and let them cart you off?" Alistair asked, because really?

Kazar shook his head, still staring at the floor. "I can't control it. Maybe it's better for everyone this way."

"I do not believe that," Leliana said. "You are a hero. You deserve to be free."

Meila glanced back at Leliana. "Vhenan..."

The two women exchanged a significant glance, and Leliana bit her lip. "Meila... there is something we must discuss."

The Dalish elf nodded and turned to the bard, and Alistair was left waiting awkwardly aside, holding Kazar's leash.

"I care about you," Leliana said. "I really do. But there are things that are more important than just one person."

Meila nodded. "I agree. We both have a duty. Me to my people, and you to yours."

Leliana reached out, and the two women clasped hands. "I cannot allow the Sacred Ashes to remain unknown and unguarded. Not now that we know where they are, and what they can do. There is so much good that can be done by working with them, nor can they be allowed to fall into the wrong hands."

"And I could never devote my life to that and keep my sanity," Meila agreed with a fond smile, and Leliana giggled. "It is just as well. You could not have lasted where I am headed either."

"I think that, the less I know the better, no?"

It was Meila's turn to chuckle, and that was just weird. Alistair hadn't known she could do that. "You have always been wiser than you let on, ma vhenan."

"And you have always been far kinder than you let on." Leliana squeezed Meila's hands one more time, then nodded and let go.

Meila took a breath and turned back toward Kazar—and, by extension, Alistair. "You need not admit defeat, da'lethallin. There may be another way."

Kazar had been watching the exchange just as Alistair had. He looked resigned... but hopeful too. "What?"

"The Keeper of my clan, Marethari, is a wise woman who is knowledgeable about many ancient magics. She may know a way to help you fix your condition."

"She'd... help me?"

"If you are willing to be helped."

Kazar's head rose. Yep, definitely not so resigned anymore. You couldn't keep Kazar down for long. "What about the Templars? They'd hunt me as an apostate."

Meila's smile was enigmatic. "The Dalish protect their own, da'lethallin. You'd have nothing to fear."

Kazar's eyes darted around. With a chuckle, Leliana stepped forward to give him a hug. As she did, she deftly drew a dagger from her bodice and cut his bindings. Leliana beamed and whispered. "You'd better hurry. We'll cover for you."

Kazar turned a stunned gaze to her, then switched it over to Alistair. "Really? You'll let me run?"

Alistair couldn't help a smirk of his own, dropping the rope. "If anyone asks, you used your demonic mind-control powers against me."

Kazar snorted, briskly unwinding the ropes from around his arms. While he did, Meila and Leliana shared one last long, lingering kiss, so... yeah. Alistair stared at Kazar until they were well and truly done.

Then, Meila took Kazar's hand, nodded a fond farewell to both of them, and pulled the smaller elf out through the side door, the pair disappearing into the darkness.

Leliana smiled and looked after them. When Alistair turned back to her, she was wiping her eyes, but she still smiled up at Alistair. "I am going to go distract the Templars for a little longer. You should probably make yourself scarce, so as to draw the least attention, no?"

Alistair nodded numbly and headed back into the party. Someone was playing a tune with a flute, leading a lively dance near the center of the room. Finian wove through the dancers, laughing and spinning men and women around in pure joy. And wherever Fin was... ah, there was Zevran, leaning back against the wall with a goblet in one hand.

Alistair settled next the assassin, who cast him an arched brow.

"So... you are the worst assassin ever. Just so you know."

"Really now?" Amused, Zevran took a sip. "Do tell?"

"You didn't even kill one of us. You had eight of us. Eight. Do you know how much that fails, for you not to manage to kill one of eight?"

"Alas, but it is true," Zevran chuckled. "But consider, my Warden King, that it is actually a great deal more difficult keeping you alive, rather than killing you, and I have been most diligent in ensuring the former of late. For that reason, I will consider the fact that so many of you survived with a great deal of pride."

"Hmm. You do have a point."

Fin danced up, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. Both elves wore simple, but nice outfits, though Alistair knew them well enough to spot the daggers they had both hidden under their jackets.

"So, Alistair!" Finian announced cheerfully, and Alistair was immediately suspicious.

"What did you do? So help me Fin, if you've been pickpocketing my court, we're going to have words."

Zevran chuckled.

"No, no. Nothing like that." Finian produced a slab of cheese out of thin air. "Cheese?"

"Fin..."

"All right, all right." Finian's face fell a bit, and he tilted his head to one side with a sigh. "I just wanted to wait until after the party was done to break the news."

"What, are you leaving too?"

Fin blinked, staring at him in startlement. "How'd you know?"

Alistair threw his hands in the air. "Only because everyone else is. Duncan might as well have not even gathered everyone, if you're all just going back home." Alistair paused, realizing something. "Wait, how does that even work? You can't leave to go back home. You're there. I mean... there's here. We're where you're there..."

"Do go on..." Zevran said with a smirk. "I want to see if it is actually possible to hurt yourself doing that."

"I'm not talking to you. You're mean."

"Alistair," Finian cut in smoothly. "I'm not staying in Denerim." He shrugged with a bashful smile. "Honestly, I think the Alienage will be more than fine without me. Especially with you running things."

"Oh, don't put that sort of pressure on me, Fin. Now I have to be all progressive and stuff."

"I just mean you won't let jerks like Vaughan Kendalls and Rendon Howe run rampant. You've met too many jerks to tolerate it."

"Well, yeah... I suppose that's true."

"So I feel like I'm leaving Denerim in good hands." Fin stuck his hands in his pockets bashfully.

"But...?"

"But... there's something I need to fix."

"But what would you..." And then it hit Alistair. The Alienage. The slavers. "...oh."

"Yeah." Finian exchanged a look with Zevran. "It's a long journey, and I don't know how long it's going to take to track everyone down. So, bottom line? I'll be gone for quite a while."

"You don't have to feel guilty about that whole... thing, you know."

Fin looked down, his smile sad. "I can't help it. If I hadn't killed Vaughan, the city would never have turned on the elves like that, and Loghain would never have gotten that far without someone noticing. Finding them and sending them back home? It's the least I can do."

"Do not fret, my friend," Zevran said smoothly to Alistair. "I will keep him out of trouble."

Alistair snorted. "Get him into trouble, more like."

The two elves shared a look, and Finian smirked. "Well yeah. That's half the fun."

"Just... write, or something. All right?" Fin smiled and even had the gall to bow regally. Alistair wondered how he hadn't throttled the elf by now.

Someone cleared their throat nearby, and Alistair turned to see Anora waiting off to the side.

"Well?" she said. "It seems things are beginning to wind down. Shall we give our subjects one last chance to adore you, my king?" There was a dry, haughty humor in her words. He wasn't sure he liked it yet, but he supposed he could get used to it. He could have been tied to worse people.

"All right. One moment." Alistair downed the last of his goblet, and the two elves waved him off with sniggers. Anora held out her hand pointedly, and Alistair remembered to crook his arm so that she could put a hand on his elbow and be led like a proper lady. Yeah, right. Like anyone really thought Alistair was the one leading Anora.

Still, though, it wasn't so bad, he supposed. He'd hate every minute of the kingly stuff. All the expectations, and the adulation, and the bowing and scraping, and the tedious politics. Yeah, he'd detest all that, and that part would never change.

But the part where he got to make a difference for the better? That part, he may be able to live with.

As one, the king and queen of Ferelden stepped up onto the balcony.