Leliana had kept her promise.

It seemed so long ago, standing in the stable with the tingle of her kiss on his cheek and the echo of her words as they resonated throughout the empty space in his chest. As he stood there, his arms entwined around one of the few remaining connections he had to Elissa, he was aware that it should have been him to have made the promise. The fact that he could not, did not, would not had only emphasised to him the extent of his betrayal. Betrayal of Elissa, of himself and of their relationship. No matter how much Leliana loved Elissa; no matter how skilled Zevran was at tracking his marks; no matter how loyal the Mabari was to his mistress, none of them could replace him searching for her. He had known it would tear him apart, to know that three small souls searched for the only one who could completed his. Not that the number mattered. He could have sent the whole of Ferelden after her; it would still have been a poor proxy.

It should have been him.

He had not permitted himself to dwell on it. Because if he thought on it too long he knew he would come to resent the way in which Elissa had manipulated his own obligations against him. Because being angry even if it was at Elissa, Maker forgive him, was preferable to the haunting thought that it had been him who had finally chased her away. That it had been for him that she had given all she was. To the point that he had all but destroyed her.

Sweet Andraste, she had kept her promise.

The dull ache which had become a constant companion deep within eased a fraction. Leliana had found her. The pounding in his head retreated from his temples. She had brought Elissa back to him.

Alistair forced himself to wrench his gaze away from the retreating form of the scout only to be confronted by the accusatory stare from a grim-faced Riordan.

He had imagined that such a confrontation would be more difficult. Instead his sense of duty had never seemed so clear. Forever a Grey Warden and always hers. Neither could be forsworn; two constants that helped to shape his world. Everything else was negotiable. Everything.

Alistair drew himself up and forced himself to meet Riordan's stare. He took a deep breath, intent that there should be no trace of hesitation in his voice. "Elissa was unable to carry this burden any further."

Morrigan drew a sharp intake of breath, fixing her own accusatory glare on him. He could feel the intensity of her look burn into the side of his head. He made a point of holding Riordan's gaze as he continued. "And I will not allow you to judge her."

The Senior Warden studied the young recruit in front of him, eyes narrowing at Alistair's impudence. With a harsh voice, he finally broke his silence. "I believe I have already pointed out that we are not judges."

"I saw no harm in emphasising it," Alistair remarked with a casualness he did not feel.

Riordan remained motionless for a moment before stirring in his saddle and allowing some of the tension to ebb from him. "The Joining binds us to the darkspawn. You know this. If you were also to forswear your oath and flee today, you'd find yourself in the Deep Roads or the Blight-lands, given time. How Elissa chose to face that fate is up to her." His tone was matter-of-fact but the anger which had begun to simmer up through the cracks in his guarded expression was dissipating along with the tension. "But my preference would have been to face it among friends."

Morrigan arched an eyebrow, her ever ready sneer contorting her face. "That sounds like judgement, Warden."

Alistair made a half-hearted growl at her. There was nothing to be gained by antagonising the man yet the Witch's own way of defending Elissa was a welcome ally.

"It is not intended as such," Riordan brushed her comment away without so much as a glance in her direction.

Morrigan bristled and Alistair interrupted any retort that was forming on the tip of her tongue.

"Her friends..." he began and found he had to clear his throat. "...did not see how badly she was struggling until it was too late."

Morrigan fell silent. She sat in the saddle, reins entwined through her fingers but her thumb began to rub at one of the rings she wore. Alistair focused on the slight movement as means of a distraction while he fought against his fingers grazing against the amulet around his neck.

Riordan frowned, absorbing the change in tension between the two. Realisation dawned on the Senior Warden. "You think it is your fault that she forswore her oath."

The dull ache from deep inside, eased but not gone, tore into a gaping rift in his chest before he could prevent it. Caught unawares, Alistair struggled for a breath as the feeling racked through his body and constricting his chest.

Riordan let out a heavy sigh although his face softened into an expression of sympathy. "I do not know whether this is truly your fault or not, Alistair. But what Elissa achieved is remarkable. I do not believe such a woman would everything she had worked for to be disregarded so easily." The younger Warden made to speak but Riordan held up a hand up to indicate he had not finished. "And I do not believe she would entrust the task to be completed by anyone. The fact that she has trusted you to take her place suggests to me that perhaps she saw a quality in you that she herself could no longer find."

"Duty." The word seemed to stick in his throat leaving a bitter taste. Once it had been the definition of him; now it seemed only a shackle.

Morrigan glanced at him, face expressionless save for a small draw of her brows.

"Indeed," Riordan also had a faint frown. "Do not allow the news of her return to deter you from the task ahead."

"I know what must be done." There was a terseness to his voice that Alistair had not intended. He had the feeling that Riordan had sensed a thought in him that Alistair was yet to fully realise himself.

"Good," the Senior Warden made no comment on the tone. "I cannot condone a Grey Warden Sister abandoning her oath but I do not judge her."

"Thank you."

It was an odd response to make but it reflected the conflicting sense of gratitude and relief that Alistair was experiencing. But as he glanced towards Riordan, he caught the ghost of a memory cast a shadow over the older man's face. As the Senior Warden noticed Alistair looking towards him, he cleared his throat.

"Elissa may no longer be the indestructible goddess you once thought. But even Andraste herself was only a woman."

Alistair blinked. He had heard many comments about Elissa but an allusion to the Maker's prophet was new.

Riordan readjusted the reins in his hands, giving himself a small shake as he recalled the escaped memory back deep inside. Even after all that had occurred in recent days, it was the closest Alistair had seen the man to being flustered.

He turned his horse's head back towards the army. "It seems the Qunari has not listened to the scout. At a double march we should reach Denerim within a day. It would seem wise not to waste any time if we wish to recognise the city."

Alistair nodded, grateful that the man had made no reference as to how likely it may be that they would recognise let alone find Leliana and Elissa.

As Riordan kicked his horse into a trot, the Witch and younger Warden were left to watch as he moved away from them.

"How close must you be for the ritual to work?" Alistair broke the silence, succeeding in masking the fear that was mingling with the fresh pain Riordan's words had caused. He had seen for himself the supplies Leliana had smuggled into the saddle packs when he confronted her. For Elissa to have been taken to the Chantry suggested that she required healing that was beyond anything Leliana could offer. And the lack of a specific message suggested a preoccupation that was an unusual characteristic in the Bard. Reading between the lines Alistair could guess that whatever else had happened, Elissa had not chosen to return of her own accord. He was not sure what he expected her to do in such a state but he was certain that no matter what, he wanted to protect her from any foolish choice her despair might lead her to.

"Closer than this."

"This should not have happened. She should not have been alone." The next thought slipped out without warning. "My duty should have been to her."

Morrigan did not respond immediately but she gave a small shake of her head. "No. Defeating the Archdemon is your duty for the moment. What is done, is done; Warden."

"King." The word was spoken almost by reflex, a symptom of being lost in his thoughts.

The Witch's gaze never strayed from the figure of Riordan who had now reached the front lines of the still marching army. Sten had turned to listen to whatever he was saying. "A curious thing."

Alistair made a non-committal noise at the back of his throat. He had no wish to resume the bickering of earlier. Instead he watched as Sten turned away from Riordan and he caught the faint echo of the command that was bellowed across the mass. On hearing it, the whole army juddered into a double time march.

"A curious thing that Cailan's widow should know of the risks of the Joining," Morrigan spoke again, her tone more pointed. "Tis one of your Order's most precious secrets, is it not?"

Alistair frowned, allowing his head to turn towards her a fraction.

"Does she know of the effect of the taint, I wonder?"

"It's hardly relevant any more, is it?"

Morrigan shrugged, eyes still trained on the army which was now nearing them. "Tis an interesting point. A bargaining chip perhaps."

"For what?"

"To allow a dangerous enemy to live."

Alistair shifted in his saddle so that he could look at her fully, eyes narrowing at her implication. Once again, he had a sense that others had a better awareness of his thoughts than he did himself.

Morrigan caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. "Of course, a King who survives the Blight yet willing abdicates the power and influence of a throne for a simple love affair is more foolish than dangerous."

He started, causing his horse to toss its head in annoyance.

A lopsided smirk crept onto Morrigan's face as she pulled her horse round so that it faced towards Denerim. "And there is no greater fool than you, Alistair."

He was saved from answering by the rhythmical thudding and clashing of Ferelden's army marching towards Denerim. Towards the Horde; towards the Archdemon; towards Elissa.

This chapter was a second attempt. I'm very grateful to Ikasury, Fenzev and Aya for their reviews since their comments meant I rewrote this and took the story in a different direction. It's important to me to acknowledge their influence which is why this little author's note stays here. :)