Together Or Not At All

by RogueHunter06

"What in the Maker's name were you supposed to do when you liked a woman?" It's a question Alistair has asked himself far too many times since unexpectedly meeting her in the Wilds. And though he knows he should be focusing on the Blight, he can't seem to help himself around her - from falling deeper into his attraction for her. *OC, Cousland Warden with Morrigan, M for lemons*

28. Andraste's Ashes

A/N: So for me it's still Monday and I'm still on my biweekly schedule, it will technically be after midnight when I post this so I will be a little bit late! But anyway, new chapter, hope you all enjoy!

Thanks to everyone who has favorited, followed, and read the story so far. I'm so glad that everyone is enjoying it!

Special thanks go to last chapter's reviewers (who put me over 60 - thanks a million, guys!) Ioialoha, PheonixTears589, Valtharia, and crabcat. Extra special thanks because you have all reviewed multiple times - you guys are amazing! As always, PLEASE REVIEW. It means a lot to me!

Disclaimer: Bioware owns DA and related characters and dialogue, I own everything else.

Chapter 28: Andraste's Ashes

Alistair had no idea what to expect for the next test when they entered the room, but it wasn't what they found. The next room was a good deal larger than the one they'd just left, and bare of any adornment at all, nothing but a room of stone bricks from top to bottom. At first it appeared empty, but once they'd all entered, the door slammed shut behind them, and six wavering lights appeared across the room.

Aedan held up a hand to stop them advancing any further into the room as they all waited to see what was going to happen. The lights began to take shape until they formed people, just as they had in the previous room. Alistair's eyes widened in shock as he took in the details of these people when they finally, more or less, solidified. They weren't what he could call totally solid, but less see-through than what Duncan had been in the previous test.

It was them. He could see himself, Aedan, Ayla, Leliana, Morrigan, and Zevran across the room in those ghostly shapes. They looked exactly like each of them, down to the armor and weapons, but the looks on their faces were unfamiliar; hard and cruel. The figures drew their weapons, and they looked solid enough. "They're . . . us," Alistair said, shocked.

"It looks that way," Aedan agreed, sounding equally surprised. "I suppose this means that rather than fighting the Guardian, we have to fight ourselves." He drew his sword and started forward. "I'd rather do this a hundred times over than that last test, anyway."

Alistair drew his own sword and readied his shield, frowning at the twinges of pain in his body as he did so. He might be better, but he wasn't in top fighting shape yet. It didn't look like he had a choice, however. He knew he couldn't fight the fake Ayla; he'd already failed at doing such a thing once, before he even knew that he loved her. He didn't think he'd have a problem with fighting the fake Morrigan, however, and it was the logical choice anyway, given that his usual role was to neutralize any mage first and foremost. So he started towards her, readying a smite.

"Zev!" Ayla exclaimed gleefully from behind Alistair as she pulled out her own weapons. "Do you realize what this means? We can fight each other all out without having to hold anything back!"

Alistair chanced a quick glance behind him to see the elf's face light up, losing the seriousness that had dimmed it since they'd talked to the Guardian. "How right you are, my dear! Shall we trade off, then?"

The two of them sped by Alistair, heading towards the version of themselves, veering off at the last second to face off against each other instead of their own selves, launching into the fight with unchecked enthusiasm. Alistair cast a worried glance at Ayla as he heard the all-too-real ring of swords, knowing that she wasn't fully recovered, either. But at that moment an arrow whizzed by his face so close it scraped his cheek, and he felt a bolt of energy racing towards him so fast he barely neutralized it in time.

Focus, he ordered himself sternly, turning his attention back to the fake Morrigan and moving closer to blast her with a smite. He would just have to trust that she would be fine, for there were too many enemies here for him to divide his attention. He continued making his way toward the fake Morrigan, as the real one behind him sent continual blasts of energy out to distract the versions of himself and Leliana. Arrows flew past him to lay down suppressing fire as well.

Aedan, meanwhile, appeared to be fighting himself with a sort of grim enjoyment, Alistair noticed as he dodged an ice spell. The match was as close as could be expected, however; it appeared the fakes had skill equal to their real counterparts.

This was proven true when he was knocked flat on his back by another bolt of energy, sent so fast after the ice spell he'd had no time to neutralize or dodge it. Morrigan was one of the few mages he'd met who could cast so fast; he wasn't used to facing anyone else who could do it, so he had to be more careful. He managed to get off another smite as he regained his feet; ignoring the clash of swords and the chaos of arrows and magic around him and focusing solely on the enemy in front of him.

He had to send off a few more smites, shrug off the disorienting weakness spell, and struggle his way along with semi-frozen limbs when he couldn't quite neutralize the next ice spell, before he finally got within swinging distance. He didn't hesitate, blocking her energy bolts with his shield while lunging forward with his sword. It pierced her through her stomach, causing the fake to let out a sharp cry that sounded very real, before he landed a finishing stroke to her throat, and the fake disappeared in a flash of light.

"Morrigan!" he heard Aedan shout, and looked over to see that Aedan had been sufficiently distracted by the fake's cry to turn away from his fight. Even as Alistair looked, Aedan's counterpart struck him full across his back, knocking him to the ground. He glanced quickly over to his left to make sure that his own double and Leliana's were sufficiently occupied; seeing that Leliana and Morrigan had it under control, he raced over to Aedan.

"I am fine, you idiot!" Morrigan shrieked behind him as he raced forward. Aedan had just barely succeeded in rolling out of the way of the next blow, but had yet to regain his feet. Alistair reached him just in time to block the next swing of the fake's sword with his own, though it sent a shockwave up his arm.

"Get up!" he hissed at Aedan, just barely managing to get enough leverage to knock the fake back and go on the offensive.

Aedan struggled his way to his feet; Alistair could see out of the corner of his eye that the blow to his back had gone through his armor and was dribbling blood even now. However, as soon as he was on his feet, Aedan swung his sword at his counterpart again, managing to strike a blow off the armor.

Alistair heard two more cries behind him, to his left, one sounding like Leliana and the other somewhat like himself, leading him to believe those fakes were now dead. He kept up his attack on Aedan's double, however, as it divided its attention between the two of them. The blows from the greatsword were surprisingly strong, and the reach exceeded that of his own sword, which made things a little difficult. Not to mention, Aedan's wound was slowing him down considerably, making his help less effective as well.

At that moment, he heard twin cries again off to his right, one that sounded so exactly like Ayla when she'd been caught by the tree that he flinched, his heart wrenching. Do not look! Do not look! He ordered himself, keeping his attention focused forward. As he did so, he suddenly saw his opportunity as Aedan blocked a blow from the greatsword, leaving the fake's side wide open. He lunged forward, burying his sword straight into the offered target up to the hilt. The fake Aedan let out a cry as the others had done, as Alistair yanked his sword back out and Aedan delivered a finishing blow to the head. A flash of light accompanied this disappearance as well.

Alistair kept his sword and shield up as he turned to examine the room, his heart pounding. Leliana and Morrigan were hurrying towards them, Morrigan speeding up as Aedan slumped to his knees, blood still leaking down his back. Alistair breathed out a shaky sigh of relief as he saw the real Ayla sitting down, leaning back on her hands as she caught her breath, next to Zevran who was kneeling, bracing his weight on his swords and laughing.

Seeing that Morrigan had reached his fellow Warden and was healing him, Alistair sheathed his sword and put away his shield, ignoring the soreness and weariness of his body as he hurried over to Ayla's side. He knelt next to her, noticing that she was bleeding from several shallow cuts along her body, though she was beaming in obvious enjoyment. "I'm fine," she reassured him, squeezing the hand that he reached out for her with, before looking over to Zevran. "That was the most enjoyable fight I've had in a long time, Zev."

The elf chuckled, and Alistair noticed he was bleeding in several places as well. "I could say the same! Deadly sex goddess, indeed. Though I suspect the real one would be harder to defeat." He winked at Ayla.

She laughed softly. "You are certainly a more skilled assassin than you made yourself out to be in our first fight; and I would expect a fight against the real you to be more difficult as well."

Ignoring the banter between the two that still made him jealous, even though he knew how Ayla felt about him, Alistair dug out the health potion in his pouch, one of the few they'd had enough supplies left over to make after the fight with the dragon, and pressed it into Ayla's hands. "Drink this," he urged her.

She looked up at him, and he sucked in his breath at the blazing desire in her gaze as their eyes met. She took the health potion from his hands, which were now trembling with the effort not to touch her. As badly as his body was now surging with want, this was definitely far from the time or place, and he took deep breaths to try and control himself as she tipped her head back and drank the potion. He tore his eyes away from the tempting line of her neck and upper chest, glancing over at Zevran to see the elf smirking at him knowingly.

Alistair glared at him before looking over to where Aedan and Morrigan were, noticing that Morrigan was now helping Aedan to his feet, meaning his healing must be done. Meanwhile, Leliana approached Zevran and gave him a healing potion from her own supply. The elf thanked her and drank it before getting to his feet.

Alistair got up as well, having got himself mostly under control, and helped Ayla to her feet, noticing that the healing potion seemed to have been strong enough to have gotten rid of all the cuts that had been present. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked her softly, trying not to meet her eyes again because he wasn't sure just how much temptation he could take right now.

"I'm fine," she replied. "What about you? Do your injuries from the dragon still hurt?"

"A little, but nothing too bad," he answered. Which was mostly true. His body was still aching from the onslaught of the dragon's wounds, as well as the magical beating it had taken earlier, but it was manageable. He could still move, after all.

"One more test, then," Aedan said as he approached the four of them, Morrigan next to him. Though he looked a bit paler than usual, Morrigan's healing appeared to have been effective enough to otherwise bring him back to normal. "We should get going."

They nodded and followed him into the next room, through the door that opened after the battle. This room was yet again different; a huge round chasm opened up the middle of the room between the two doors, surrounded by odd-looking squares built into the stone. Alistair could see no way across, though there was one square tile sticking out into the center of the chasm, directly in front of them and across from the door on the other side of the room, which looked like the beginning of a bridge.

"Another obstacle?" Morrigan groaned loudly, throwing her hands up in the air. "'Tis almost beyond endurance! What good is an incorporeal bridge? Are we supposed to imagine ourselves on the other side?"

"This one looks like a puzzle," Aedan mused, smiling over at the witch before studying the chasm as they all piled up in front of it. "We must have to figure out a way to get across."

"I'm terrible at puzzles," Alistair replied, frowning as he looked around the room, his eyes returning to the squares of stone. "Hey, you see those thingies over on the side of that huge chasm? I bet they're used for something. Maybe I should touch them or . . . stand on them."

Leliana laughed softly. "Alistair, normal people tend to avoid strange looking sections of the floor – 'thingies' as you say. They tend to be traps."

Zevran grinned. "Yes, next time we see a strange contraption, why don't you go stand on it? If something bad happens, hey, we know it's a trap."

Alistair frowned, glancing back and forth between the two rogues and the squares. "You don't really think they're traps – do you?"

"No, I think you're right, Alistair," Ayla said, moving forward towards one of the squares. "I don't see anything else we can do in this room but step on one of these squares."

"No, wait, let me do it." Alistair hurried forward to stop her, but he was too late, as she'd already stepped on one of the squares. He breathed a sigh of relief as nothing happened to her, but a half-solid tile of stone appeared in the middle of the chasm, joined to the piece that was already there.

They all stared at it, before Morrigan remarked, "What do you know, the Templar was right for once."

Alistair scowled at her. "At least I was offering suggestions. I didn't hear anybody else try to help – you included."

"Come on, you two, knock it off," Aedan sighed, looking out at the stone tile. "Still, it's not solid enough to stand on. But maybe if we try one of the stones on the other side . . ."

At this suggestion, Alistair hurried forward and stepped on one of the squares on the other side of the chasm. It made another half-solid piece appear further out. He tried a few more squares before he finally found one that appeared to completely solidify the piece that Ayla had created.

"Okay, that looks solid enough," Aedan said, starting forward.

"I do not know that it would be wise to step on it, even so," Morrigan began, but Aedan ignored her and stepped onto the newly made square. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, Morrigan included, Alistair noted, as the square remained solid under their leader's feet.

"Well, now we just need a few more of those," Aedan noted. "Anyone else care to try?"

The others began to try stepping on the squares as well, and after several minutes of experimentation, they had created a bridge for Aedan to cross. Surprisingly, once they were made solid, the pieces remained even after they'd stepped off the squares used to make them. Once Aedan was all the way across, the door on the opposite side opened, and he waved them over.

They all began to cross, Alistair making sure Ayla went before him, just in case the bridge decided to give out on the last person. Fortunately, though, they all made it across without incident. He sighed in relief as he made it across last. "Maker's breath. Andraste only favoured the clever, it seems."

"That was exciting!" Leliana squealed from in front of him. "Can we do it again?"

Aedan rolled his eyes at her. "Sure, go back and forth across it as many times as you like. Meanwhile, I'm going to see what's through the last door."

They all followed him through the doorway, Leliana included, which led to a long hallway that finally opened into a large room with an immense vaulted ceiling. A plain stone altar stood immediately inside the door. A few feet beyond it lay an unbroken wall of flames, blocking their way into the remainder of the room. Alistair could spot a set of stairs beyond the flames, at the far end of the room, leading up to a massive, beautiful statue and altar. That had to be where the ashes were, he thought.

"Powerful magic, indeed," Morrigan observed, staring at the wall of flames. "How are we meant to get beyond here?"

"There's something written on the altar, here," Aedan replied, stopping in front of the stone altar. After a moment, he began to read, "Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight."

"A riddle, this time," Alistair remarked. "But what is it supposed to mean?"

"Hmm." Leliana tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I believe it means that we are to remove our equipment. The 'trappings of worldly life' probably mean our armor and weapons and such. Even a king and a slave would be equal when they wear nothing, yes?"

Aedan regarded her for a moment before nodding. "I think you're right. 'Cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit' probably means that you would have nothing else to cloak yourself in. So we must have to take off our equipment and walk through the flames to be 'born anew'. Might as well give it a try, anyway."

Alistair frowned. Did Aedan really mean what he thought he meant? He looked over to Ayla on his left to see what she thought, and was astonished to see her placing her swords on the ground before undoing the laces of her drakescale armor. "Whoa! W – what are you doing?" he hissed, face flaming.

She looked up at him, raising her eyebrows with an amused smile passing across her face. "What Leliana said we should do – removing my equipment. It's not like you've never seen me naked before."

"Th-that's not the point," he stammered. The point was he hadn't made love to her for over a week now, not since they'd entered the mountains, and he had already felt as though he was close to exploding with his want for her. That look she'd given him earlier hadn't helped either, and if she were to undress in front of him now, he couldn't be sure he'd be able to maintain his control, whether or not all their friends were there. "It's – I – nobody else has seen – it's not –" he couldn't find the words to make a coherent sentence.

"It will be fine, Alistair," she brushed off his worry as she continued to undo the many laces, the sounds behind them indicating the others were in the process of removing their weapons and armor as well. "It's the last thing we have to do to get the ashes, we might as well get it over with."

Alistair suddenly noticed that Zevran, who was on Ayla's other side, was watching her with fascination as he removed his own leather armor. He scowled and moved around Ayla, blocking her from Zevran's view. "Don't you dare look at her," he snapped. He could hear Ayla sigh behind him, but she made no further comment.

The elf raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. "Would you rather I look at you instead?"

"I – what – no!" Alistair exclaimed, unbelievably flustered. "Don't look at either of us! If you have to look, look at one of the others – Aedan or somebody!"

"Hey!" Aedan protested from his spot behind them. "What do you think you're doing, offering me up to look at?!"

"Or we could all be mature about this and nobody looks at anybody," Leliana called in a tone of exasperation. "If you think you can manage that, of course, Zevran."

Zevran's smirk widened. "Alas, everyone wishes to spoil my enjoyment. But I assure you I can manage that if you all so wish. If it makes everyone feel better, I will stand in front so that there is no way I can see the rest of you."

"That would be wise, elf," Morrigan said bitingly.

Zevran shrugged and moved out a little ahead of them all, putting his back to them and continuing with removing his armor. The others were continuing to do the same as well, judging by the clanks of metal and rustles of fabric hitting the ground. He could also hear a low murmur of voices, leading him to believe that Aedan and Morrigan were probably talking to one another. With a sigh of defeat, he removed his sword and shield and began to undo the buckles that he could reach. He would just have to not look at Ayla at all, and think about other things to distract himself. How much he hated Loghain, for instance, or one of the Revered Mother's lectures.

After a moment, he heard Ayla's voice behind him. "Here, I'll help you with these. You won't get this ridiculous armor all the way off by yourself." He felt her nimble fingers working on the buckles and straps at his back as he continued at his front. He focused on keeping his breathing steady.

"Are you not even going to look in my direction?" Ayla asked softly, amusement in her voice as they got his upper armor off and on the ground, beginning to work on the lower portion.

"I can't," he mumbled, feeling his face turning red again as the rest of his armor dropped to the ground, and he began to remove the cotton tunic he wore beneath. "If I do, I might –" He hesitated, lowering his voice even further so that he was barely breathing out the words, knowing her sharp hearing would still pick it up – "lose any control I have left and take you right here."

He heard her sharp intake of breath behind him. "By the Goddess, Alistair . . ." she whispered weakly. "How am I supposed to maintain control now?"

"Don't look at me either?" he suggested in a low voice, trying his hardest to ignore the ache of longing in his body from her words. He stripped off the last of his cotton undergarments and heard her groan softly, making his blood run hot. He gritted his teeth against the sensation.

"Right," she murmured breathlessly. "Not looking is probably a really good idea. Let's get through these flames quickly."

Alistair turned towards the flames, but made sure he focused on staring straight ahead, not turning to look at her or anyone else, and tried to keep his mind distracted again. Zevran must have already passed through, for he could no longer see him. He walked carefully forward towards the flames.

The heat radiating from them felt very real as he approached them, but reminding himself that Zevran must have passed through them just fine, he took a deep breath and stepped through. Even still, he closed his eyes as he expected to feel his skin starting to burn at any moment, but it barely felt warm as he passed through the flames.

Once he was through, however, he could feel the heat radiating at his back again. He saw Zevran was indeed on the other side already, his back to them still. Suddenly, he felt the heat at his back disappear at the same moment that the Guardian reappeared in front of them, meaning that the others must have all passed through the flames as well.

"You have been through the trials of the Gauntlet; you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her, you have been cleansed. You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim. Approach the sacred ashes," the Guardian commanded, before he disappeared again.

"Should I continue to wait here until you're all dressed again?" Zevran called wryly, still not turning around.

"Yes, that would probably be best," Leliana called, amusement lacing her tone, from somewhere off to Alistair's right.

"Let's get this awkwardness over with quickly," Aedan agreed, "so we can get the ashes and move on."

Alistair turned back around, making sure to turn in the opposite direction from where he knew Ayla was standing, and quickly headed back to the pile of his equipment. He could see her armor sitting just to the side of his as he stopped and quickly began pulling his smallclothes and cotton undergarments back on. He waited for the armor, however, knowing he would need help with it.

After a few minutes, at the same moment Aedan called to Zevran that they were all decent enough for him to come back and dress himself, Ayla came around in front of him, fully dressed, smiling ruefully at him as she went to help him on with his armor. "Well, that was surprisingly difficult," she chuckled softly as they began buckling the armor on together.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling embarrassed at his lack of control. "It's just – it seems like it's been forever since we've last been together and, well . . ." he trailed off, shrugging.

"No, don't be sorry," she told him, tugging a strap tight. "I know exactly what you mean. I'm feeling a bit on the verge of losing it myself."

He sighed, relieved that she understood and felt the same way, although that didn't really help his self-control any. "We need to get back off this mountain quickly."

She nodded in agreement as they finished up the last of his armor. "It cannot happen soon enough."

"All right, let's get going," Aedan called as Alistair picked up his sword and shield. He was relieved when he looked around to note that everyone was fully dressed again, although he still felt a bit flustered and awkward. But at least he hadn't seen anything he shouldn't have.

They all made their way across the room towards the stairs. The statue at the top, Alistair could see now that they were closer, was that of a robed woman, her head held high, one hand over her heart, with a flame burning in the other hand. A large, ornate gold urn sat on the altar before the statue. When they reached the top of the stairs, Aedan approached the Urn while the rest of them hung back, merely watching.

There was a certain peace and serenity that seemed to surround the statue and the Urn, draining all the tension and stress out of Alistair and making him feel truly relaxed for the first time in days. He breathed out a sigh of relief as he watched Aedan open the Urn, murmuring to Ayla, "I didn't think anyone could succeed in finding Andraste's final resting place – but here – here She is."

"Yes, we found it at last," Ayla whispered back to him. "I don't fully understand how the rest of you must feel about it, but I can feel the serenity here. It feels like the Starwood Point at home – a relaxing and . . . important place."

He nodded, pleased she understood, even as Morrigan completely ruined the moment by drawling scornfully, "I stand in awe. Really."

This was followed shortly by Zevran remarking caustically, "Nice vase. I should get one for my house."

"Oh, how can you two be like that?" Leliana exclaimed as she looked up at the statue, her eyes bright and her hands clasped in front of her. "I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes . . . I . . . I have no words to express –" She trailed off, sighing in happiness.

Meanwhile, Aedan had taken a pinch of the ashes out of the Urn and put them in a leather pouch, pulling the drawstring tight and tucking it in the larger pouch where he, like Alistair, kept his healing potions. "Well, we've succeeded in finding the ashes at last," he said, heading back over to the rest of them. "Let's hope they work the way they're supposed to. We need to get back to Redcliffe as soon as we can and try them out."

"Right," Alistair nodded in agreement. "I just – I hope that the Arl manages to hang on until we get back there. We've been gone for a long time."

"We'll have to hope that whatever that demon did to keep him alive, that it lasts the week or so it will take until we can get back," Aedan replied. "There is nothing else we can do."

He headed down the stairs, the others following. Ayla smiled at Alistair reassuringly as they reached the bottom. "I am certain your Arl will be fine. We would not have managed to find the ashes if there was no purpose to it."

She said the last with such conviction that Alistair couldn't help but feel better. How did she always manage to make his heart lighter? He smiled down at her and squeezed her hand in his as they followed Aedan. There was a door tucked in an alcove off to the side of the stairs, which Aedan headed over to. Upon opening the door, they found it led them right back out onto the mountain.

It looked to be late afternoon as they all exited onto the mountain, the sun hanging low in the sky, and the air was still quite cool. They made their way back over to the ruined tower where their camp lay. Ayla made a beeline for the cloak she'd left behind at their campsite, wrapping it tightly around her shoulders.

"Did you succeed?" Wynne asked as they all trooped back into the remains of the tower, gathering up their supplies.

"Finally, yes," Aedan answered her. "We got a pinch of the ashes, so let's get going back down the mountain. I think we should be able to get back to that room inside the tunnels we stayed in the other night before we need to stop to rest, so pack up, everybody."

"Does this mean we can finally resume fighting the Blight?" Sten demanded as he began to pack up his things as well.

Aedan sighed. "Yes, Sten, as soon as we get back to Redcliffe and see the Arl, we will go to Orzammar to get the last of our troops so we can fight the Blight. Then you can see as many darkspawn as you like."

The qunari merely grunted in response as they all packed up the camp. Once done, they made their way over to the entrance to the tunnels that led back to the first temple. The going was a lot easier now that there were no more cultists and they had a fairly good idea of where everything was. They made their way without incident back to the room they had used to rest in the other night.

After a brief meal of the breads, cheeses and dried meats they had in their packs, they all went to lie down for the night. Alistair had taken first watch again, as he usually did, and set himself up in front of the entrance to the room, sitting with his back to the others, wrapping his own cloak around his shoulders. He wasn't overly cold, but he knew it would only get colder during the night, and they had only a very small fire going.

He heard footsteps approaching him after a few minutes. He glanced behind him to see Ayla making her way over to him. "What are you doing up?" he asked her softly.

"It's too cold without you," she grumbled in a low voice, her cloak still tightly wrapped around her body. "Even with your plate armor on, you're still much warmer than the cave floor."

He grinned, opening up his own cloak and she crawled into his lap, leaning against his chest. He tucked his cloak back around her, wrapping his arms around her as well. "Better?"

"Getting there," she sighed, laying her head against his chest.

It was a good thing he did still have his armor on, he mused as she snuggled up against him. This would be nothing short of torture without a layer between him and her body; it was hard enough as it was. He might as well distract himself by asking what her father had said to her in the Gauntlet. He had been curious ever since she'd mentioned that she'd seen him for real.

He wasn't quite sure how to bring it up, though. He didn't want to make her cry, because it tore him up inside every time she did, even when he wasn't the cause of her tears. Maybe he could lead up to it slowly, he decided. "Ayla, would you mind telling me more about your world? I know a few things, but . . . can you tell me what it was like growing up there?"

She tilted her head to look up at him. "I guess I haven't told you a lot about my life there, have I? I suppose it is only fair, since you've told me so much about your life before we met. Where do you want me to start?"

He considered it, trying to think of a specific question that he had. "Oh, I know. Remember when you said you were used to a life on the road? Well, I was just wondering, didn't you have a home, being that your family is a noble one?"

"Oh, of course we did," she nodded. "The Trichlor clan, like the other noble clans, has a vast ancestral home where all of the clan members live. But we were probably only there about half the time when I was growing up."

"But, why?" he asked, confused. "Why would you be on the road so much as a child?"

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before looking back up at him. "Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning, it would be easier for you to understand. Do you remember that I mentioned my mother died when I was very young?"

He nodded. He'd made a point of memorizing the few details of her life she had offered up to him so far. She had only mentioned her mother the once, when she first told him about her family, and had not brought it up since then, but he'd remembered it as something they had in common, losing their mothers at a young age.

"I was only about two or three when she died of an illness that even the Master Healer couldn't cure," Ayla continued softly, leaning her head against his chest again. "I don't remember her at all. Mardin remembers a few things, since he's four years older than I am, but not a lot. Anyway, by the time she died, my father was Captain of the Order already, so he often had to leave home to go out on missions and patrols. At first, when that happened, Father left us with a nanny or one of our uncles. But eventually, he decided he just couldn't trust anyone else to look after us."

"Why not?" Alistair asked. "Didn't he trust his own brothers?"

"I don't think it was so much that he didn't trust them," Ayla replied slowly, "as it was that he didn't trust them to raise us the way he would. You see, my uncles aren't in the Order, and Uncle Corran, the older of the two, took the Trichlor clan's seat on the council. So he and Father were both on the council, and they often disagreed on political matters. Anyway, with both of his brothers being courtiers, the three of them rarely saw eye-to-eye on anything, so they began to grow apart. I think he didn't want us growing up with their views, not his. And no matter how many nannies he tried, he could never agree with any of them, either."

"He sounds like he was very . . . opinionated," Alistair observed, grinning down at her.

She laughed, nodding in response. "He certainly was that. Whatever the reason for it was, he began to take us with him whenever he left home, unless it happened to be a particularly dangerous battle he was going to. So we literally grew up on the road. When he was home, so were we, but any time he left, we went with him."

"Wasn't that dangerous, though?" Alistair tried to imagine travelling on the road with such young children, and couldn't think how of any safe way for it to work.

Ayla shrugged. "I suppose it probably was, but it never seemed like it to us. I can never really remember a time when I was ever afraid anything would happen to me. We always had other members of the Order with us, too, so we were surrounded by skilled warriors. In some ways, it was probably the safest place for us to be. Anyway, we spent so much time on the road travelling, that I feel just as much at home in a tent on the road as I do anywhere else."

He nodded, thinking about where he felt most at home. Redcliffe had been his home as a young child, but he had never felt truly welcome there; and certainly he had never felt the monastery was his home, either. Being on the road with the Grey Wardens, both before and now, with Ayla, was probably the most at home he'd ever felt.

"I think . . . I would say the same," he replied softly. "Being on the road feels like home for me, too, especially now." He smiled down at her, his heart warmed when she smiled at him in return. Knowing she felt the same way about him was still so incredible at times that it was difficult to wrap his mind around.

"One other thing I was curious about," he went on, after a moment, "if you grew up with the Order, did you have a choice about becoming a warrior? Like, would your father have disapproved if you'd chosen otherwise?"

She blinked, seeming to consider her answer. "Well, I suppose I didn't have a choice when it came to training as a child. Since we were on the road, my father began our training at a younger age than usual. I was already beginning basic sword training around the age of five, I think. He wanted to make sure that if somehow anyone did get through the others to us, that Mardin and I had some idea of how to defend ourselves. But if I had chosen not to join the Order? I think he would have been fine with that. He might have been a little disappointed, but I believe at times he would have rather had me far away from the battlefield."

"He likely would have been disappointed if Mardin had chosen differently, though," Ayla continued. "Even though women are allowed in the Orders back home, there are far fewer of us that join the warrior Order than the mage or archer Orders. Less front line fighting in the other ones, and there are less women willing to become shifters, as well. So while Father would likely have not minded me choosing to join the court, he probably would have been much more disappointed to have his only son choose to do so."

Alistair nodded. "I suppose that would make sense. Were those your only choices, though? Join the order or join the court?"

"Yes, I suppose they were," she answered slowly. "As a daughter of the Clan of Swords, there were really only two ways for me to go. I never really thought about it that way, since I never wanted to do anything besides join the Order."

"The Clan of Swords?" He didn't think he'd ever heard her use that term before, he realized, looking at her curiously. "What does that mean?"

"Oh," she smiled, shaking her head. "Sorry, I guess that is a bit confusing. Most of the clans, particularly the older and more 'noble' ones, have secondary names indicating what they're famous for. The Trichlor clan is known as the Clan of Swords, since our founding members were warriors and there have been warriors throughout most of the clan's history. The royal family is the Clan of Kings, of course, and there are other ones, the Clan of Archers, the Clan of Mages, and so on. But with those names come certain expectations, as well."

"Like with any noble family, I suppose," Alistair agreed. "So your father wouldn't have let you become a merchant or an innkeeper or anything like that?" he asked teasingly.

"No," she laughed. "I doubt he would have even accepted a merchant or an innkeeper for my life-mate. If I wasn't going to be a warrior myself, my life-mate would certainly have to be one. But I doubt I could have been with a man that couldn't fight, anyway, no matter what my father thought."

He couldn't stop himself from asking, though he was afraid to hear the answer, and maybe it was too soon to ask. "Would your father have accepted me, do you think?"

She cupped his cheek, smiling up at him with a tender expression he didn't think he'd ever seen her wear before. "Actually, I know he would have. It's one of the things he told me, in the Gauntlet."

His heart leapt at her words. He could hardly believe it; her father had actually accepted him? And for her father to have said that, it must mean she was considering him as a choice for her – what had she called it? Life-mate? She had said she loved him, but he had not really thought beyond that, to whether she would want to marry him or not. He assumed this life-mate concept she spoke of must be the same thing as marriage. He couldn't believe the overwhelming happiness he felt that she might even be considering it, or that her father accepted him, when his own father never had.

He realized after a moment that this also gave him the opening to ask the one question he'd most wanted to ask. "I'm . . . really glad to hear it," he told her at last. "I am . . . honoured that he would accept me like that. Do you mind . . . sharing what else he told you?"

She looked down for a moment, and he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes, which tore at his heart, making him feel guilty for pressing her. "Mostly what you might expect," she replied softly. "That he loved me and was proud of me and it wasn't my fault. But he also had a message for me, from the Goddess, about my destiny."

Alistair listened, in a state of disbelief, as she explained everything her father had told her, about the balance of Thedas and how the Goddess and Her followers, one of whom was apparently the Maker as they knew him, had been shut out. She went on to explain that she had been allowed the choice to stay if she wanted it, since her destiny now lay here, in this world.

"I'm supposed to help restore the balance," she finished. "And, well, there are some other aspects to my destiny here, too." She wasn't quite looking him in the eye, and she didn't elaborate on these other aspects, so he decided not to press her further.

"That's – wow." He shook his head, trying to process everything she'd just told him. "That means the story about the mages and the Black City, and the creation of the darkspawn, is actually true! And the Maker didn't actually abandon us, but has been shut out. It's all very hard to believe, but . . . I guess it does all make sense. Especially the part about the imbalance. That must be why so many bad things have happened lately."

"Yes," she nodded. "I had noticed how unnatural things were here, so I felt it made sense as well. Anyway, I told my father that my decision was to stay here."

He snapped his gaze down to her, his eyes widening. "You're – you're going to stay here? You're not going home and leaving Ferelden?"

"No," she shook her head, smiling at him. "I'm going to stay. Ferelden is going to be my home from now on."

His heart leapt again, with indescribable relief and joy. She was going to stay. She was not going to leave him to go back home to some other world where he couldn't follow. He hugged her tightly to him, wanting to kiss her but knowing if he did he wouldn't stop. "You don't know how glad I am to hear that," he murmured into her hair. "I was afraid you would just leave one day, whether you wanted to or not, and I wouldn't be able to stop it."

"I was afraid of that too," she confessed, flushing as she looked away, not meeting his eyes. "I was so relieved when my father told me the choice was mine. I'm happy I get to stay here . . . with you."

His heart was so full he thought it might burst to hear her say that. Having her in his arms like this was so much better when he knew that she was as happy to be in them as he was to have her there. And now he knew for certain, that if they got through the Blight in one piece, that his dream had a chance of coming true. He might just get to keep her with him, always. He was, for the first time he could remember, truly happy, and he told her so, as they spent the rest of his watch talking in low voices about anything else that they could think of. When his watch was up, he went to sleep with her in his arms again, determined now that he would never let her go.