Disclaimer- As much as I wish otherwise, I do not own DAO. I do not own any of the characters therein, including the female Cousland origin character, though I would like to think my interpretation of her is my own. I do not own the environment, events, dialogue, etc. I expect and will receive nothing from this story but the joy of paying homage to excellence. (Imitation, after all, is sincere flattery.)

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Note- This fic is part of my DA:O Fragment Fics collection. These are little pieces of what or may not eventually become a longer, more comprehensive fic. If I waited until that fic was in a condition to post, I would never post at all, and I want to post.

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The soft, sibilant tones of Morrigan's voice soothed her...tempted her...scared her. But what scared her all the more was the sincerity and depth of pain glinting in Morrigan's wild golden eyes.

Elan almost didn't want to listen. She didn't want to hope. What was hope anyway? What reason had she for living? Her family was gone. Her life was gone. Her love was gone. And soon her purpose...that too would be gone.

And yet...she didn't want to die...not quite yet...but even more than that, she didn't want him to die. And damn, damn, damn him, she knew him, and it didn't matter he'd disowned her in the name of duty...he would still disown the damned duty and ignore everything she'd said, undo everything they've worked for...and break her heart again. Which shouldn't even be possible...but it was. And it would be just like a bastard—just like the Royal Bastard he was.

But...she couldn't agree to this. She couldn't possibly agree to this, could she? She must remember who she who she was, and she must do her duty.

The Grey Warden Motto specified sacrifice, not salvation, and even if she were inclined to take that as more a guideline than an actual rule, per se, there was still that one ironclad rule Duncan left Alistair, left her, left the Grey Wardens: By any means necessary.

By what stretch of the imagination would begging the man she loved and would always love, the man she never wanted to share with anyone for any reason ever...though of course she already had no choice in that matter, not any more...to lie with another be necessary? By what stretch of the imagination was it in fact desirable? Or even wise? But necessary, yes, it particularly was not necessary, not when a Grey Warden with a sword or an an axe or a hammer or plain pig-headed determination not to let the entire world be overrun...was enough to do the deed.

On the other hand, did sheer, magnificent expediency really mean a method was unacceptable? If Morrigan was correct, a Grey Warden did not have to die for in the act of slaying the archdemon in order for it to be destroyed. Even more importantly, didn't that imply anyone could kill the archdemon and it would still be destroyed? Which, certainly, was a rather important point when one stopped and thought about it.

I

n the entire battle, in the entire country, the Grey Wardens numbered no more than three. Three. Three chances to kill the archdemon...and three times three hundred chances for each of them to die before they ever reached its side. And when you thought of that...well, perhaps...this really was necessary after all...even if it was salvation and not sacrifice, even if it was nothing more than what she wanted.

So, in the end, it all came down to whether or not she trusted Morrigan. Whether or not she believed the witch would deliberately cause pain, suffering, destruction...as opposed to simply and dispassionately observing it when it happened to cross her path. Whether or not she believed the pain and the pleading in Morrigan's eyes, the sadness in her voice...whether or not she accepted and returned the title she had been so honored to be offered...Sister...

If life has taught me anything, it is this: first you must survive. Do you disagree? To her own surprise as well as that of Morrigan, Elan had discovered even then that she did not. Now, she was even more surprised to realize she still agreed...and that she felt no misgivings and no guilt. It still held true, and, furthermore, she found she believed Morrigan's observation that some things should not be allowed to perish as well. Perhaps even more. Surely Grey Wardens who had not asked for their burdens nor even taken all of them up knowingly could be included on that list?

Especially one particular Grey Warden...

She was less sure she believed that category ought to include Old Gods, but Morrigan was not...and Elan trusted Morrigan with her life...as she always had. As Morrigan had trusted Elan with hers.

Elan found, in the end, that her greatest complaint with the suggestion was the idea of never seeing Morrigan again. Never seeing her. Never seeing her child. Never seeing Alistair's child. Because that hurt. Deeper than she thought it would. She was sure that, in the end, that would hurt Alistair as well. And, in spite of how things stood at the moment, that mattered. It mattered too damn much. But not enough to convince her this shouldn't be done.

"Very well, my friend," Elan said finally, her voice rusty and forced as if it had been lying in wait a very long time, her head and her heart still swimming with desires and doubts, "I will do my best to convince him."