The route Alistair took through the streets of Denerim to the marketplace was direct. He made no pretence that he was headed anywhere else. Yet as he led his small contingent of dwarves and human women through the gates of the marketplace, the area was apparently empty. He made to round the corner of the support wall when he felt something pulling at his arm.

He turned with an impatient reprimand on the tip of his tongue but swallowed it as Leliana shook her head at him, her frown indicating that her rogue senses had revealed what he was unable to see. The constant presence of darkspawn throughout the city made his own premonition of the tainted creatures almost useless. The Bard held a finger against her lips and indicated that the group hold position behind the wall while she scouted ahead.

Alistair nodded and she skirted ahead of them, careful to keep close to walls and shadows as she crept along. Even dressed in those Chantry robes, had he not been so intent on watching her then he would not have noticed her so fluidly did she move. There was a lightness of step that reminded him of Elissa. Clearly the two women had exchanged battle techniques.

Leliana passed from view and he felt his heart leap into his mouth. Maker knew he had quite enough women to be concerned about without adding the Bard to the list.

Behind him, Oghren gave a grunt of annoyance as he muttered to himself. The other dwarves also seemed restless from the enforced stop. Unused to anything other than a direct assault on their enemry, their agitation began to transfer to the humans. Alistair recognised the anxiety he felt in himself reflected in the fidgeting of Wynne's fingers around her staff and Morrigan's darkening expression.

"What are we sodding waiting for?" Oghren demanded at last. His only acknowledgement of the situation was to lower his voice to a dull roar.

"Quiet, dwarf! Would you have us all massacred?" Morrigan snarled.

"Heh. Just let the Blighters try it," he grinned.

Alistair snorted just as Leliana reappeared into line of sight at the end of the wall. She motioned for Alistair to come and join her while the rest stayed where they were. Making sure he tread in her exact footsteps, together they snuck past the entrance to the Chantry and various abandoned buildings until they were nearer to the far side of the marketplace. Crouching behind various barrels and crates, he was in a better position to view what he was up against.

Zevran had been right. Ogres. And a Hurlock Alpha General at their centre issuing commands. As he watched, the creatures began to demonstrate the same sense of agitation he had seen in his own followers. Realising that the creatures were capable of isolating the nearness of his taint even if he was unable to do the same, he curled a hand around Leliana's wrist and scuttled back from their vantage point towards the gates.

As he returned, it was clear from the reaction of those waiting that his expression had betrayed him.

"That bad, eh lad?" Oghren raised an eyebrow.

Alistair resisted the urge to allow his head to sink into his hands and instead settled for rubbing at his eyes. So close. How could he be so close and yet as far as he had ever been from her?

"Here, lad," Oghren shifted from foot to foot. "I've never gone into a battle sober but by the stone, if we wait much longer that's exactly what I will be." The statement was accompanied by raucous guffaws. Oghren grinned at his brethren. "We'll take them straight to the Void, won't we boys?" The guffaws turned into a general consensus of unsavoury comments and grunted cheers. Oghren looked back at Alistair. "So you see to your woman. We'll see to the nugging ogres."

A simple show of loyalty tinted with a heartfelt sentiment that came from the least likely of places. It was enough to shock Alistair from his indecision. Such loyalty had to be reciprocated even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.

"A barrel of your finest ale that I get to the General before you," he taunted Oghren. "Far side of the marketplace. I'll even give you a headstart."

The dwarf roared with laughter. "Done."

With the movement of the dwarves causing a distraction, the humans splintered off towards the entrance to the Chantry with Alistair intent that he would at least see them safely in the building. As he came to a halt in the small yard in front of the Chantry doors, Wynne continued past him without a word.

"Tis foolish to expect to reach the Archdemon alone," Morrigan stopped at his side. "You will need assistance."

"You have offered enough assistance."

The words were clumsy but with Leliana so near and time so short, he could think of no other way to express himself. The Witch narrowed her eyes as she attempted to work out whether there was a hidden jibe in his comment.

"Just make sure that no harm comes to Elissa," he didn't flinch as he met her glare. "And if that isn't possible then leave. Do you understand, Morrigan?"

They stood only inches from one another and yet at his question, she titled her head to one side and studied him with an intentness that contradicted her usual aversion to looking at him at all. Despite himself, he let out an impatient growl at her continued audacity towards him. He was ordering the Witch to do what they both knew she wanted and yet it seemed the opportunity to disobey him was one she could not overlook. With Elissa so close, Alistair no longer had the patience to endure Morrigan's continued distrust of him or his actions especially when those actions were of best benefit to the Witch.

Both Wynne and Leliana stopped as the standoff between King and Witch threatened to escalate. But as Alistair continued to hold his ground, it was Morrigan who broke the tension. She took a half step backwards and dipped her head in what he took to be a nod. Too far to suggest fealty, it was enough to soothe the anger which threatened to overspill from him.

"Thank you." This time he succeeded in matching both tone and words with the genuine feeling of gratitude he felt towards her. No matter their own relationship, their loyalty to Elissa bound them together.

With as bad a grace as she ever had towards him, Morrigan retraced her step and he felt her palm something into his hand.

"For the child," was the cryptic message she left him with as she abruptly turned and moved to join Wynne who was paused at the Chantry doors.

As he glanced down at the ring which rested in the palm of his gauntlet, he made to call after the Witch. The unexpected sentimentality caused warning bells to ring in his head. What need was there for what he assumed was an enchanted ring if the child was near? As he contemplated the significance of Morrigan's gesture, the sound of the clash of swords and the battle cry of the dwarves ripped him from his train of thought. Vibrations travelled through the ground and caused both Alistair and Leliana to stagger as their centre of gravity was disrupted. The dwarves had engaged the ogres.

As Leliana gathered her balance, he saw the conflict on her face as her eyes darted between the direction of the battle and the two mages waiting for her.

He spared a warm smile for her as her gaze settled onto him. "I didn't stop you before and I won't now. Go."

Tactile as ever, the Bard launched herself at him but this time he was prepared for her reaction. As they clung to one another, he murmured in her ear. "If anything happens to me then promise me you will look after her, Leliana."

It took so long for her to answer that he wondered if he had said the wrong thing. But as he heard the catch in her throat, he realised she was trying to control herself. "Always."

Alistair squeezed her close. "And Morrigan. She will not make it easy but please."

Leliana pulled back from him and her own expression mirrored Morrigan's earlier one. With narrowed eyes and a frown darkening her face, she searched his own for an answer to a question she was unable to speak. But eventually she placed a hand against his cheek and nodded. "So many dark secrets and lies. It is fortunate I know you to be a good man, Alistair Theirin."

"Go," he repeated as he disentangled her arms from around him.

The Bard turned and ran to the other women. Alistair stayed only long enough to see all three slip through the doors of the Chantry before running towards the sounds of the battle. The small comfort that those he cared most for were safe was mitigated by the knowledge that they continued to be so only for as long as he and the dwarves were able to stand.

As he dodged the last of the ruined market stalls, the sight which greeted him was as encouraging as it was hopeless. The clarity with which Oghren shouted his orders to the dwarves scattered around him made it almost impossible to believe that he was in fact drunk. To be surrounded by so many who embodied the talents of a Berserker and Champion was in itself a boost. Yet with each ogre that was defeated, two more arrived to take its place. The General was summoning all to its aid and the dwarves were close to being outnumbered and out-manoeuvred.

Alistair saw his chance and took it, dodging the giant hands which now lunged towards him. Desperation at the situation saw all semblances of tactics dissipate.

"Oghren!" he hollered in the direction of the dwarf as he slipped and slid his way towards his intended target.

The dwarf jerked his head up, wrenching his axe from where it had become wedged in the skull of one of the ogres.

"Ale!" Alistair prayed that Oghren would not forget such a precious wager even in the heat of battle and the inference contained in the single word.

His heart was lifted by the partial response he was able to make out through the surrounding commotion.

"Bloody Blighter..."

Slashing at whatever came within reach, Alistair scrambled ever closer towards the General. His focus narrowed into tunnel vision as he became intent on his target. Too late he realised the General had made a pre-emptive strike and the ricochet of its war-cry knocked Alistair off his feet.

Winded, he sprawled on the ground as the shadow of the General fell across his face. With a grunt, the creature stamped a foot onto his chest and pinned him to the ground. The eerie echo of its laugh resonated off the stone buildings as the creature raised its sword. Alistair found himself hypnotised by the glint of light as the blade was poised above his neck and the creature made to drive it into his throat.

Leliana moved quickly through the corridors as Wynne and Morrigan followed at her heels. The Bard called out Zevran's name as she went, aware that the stone walls would deaden the sound but intent that she prevent the panicked responses she herself had so narrowly avoided at Zevran's arrival.

As she rounded the last corner in the corridor which led to the Revered Mother's room, she saw that the door to the small room was closed. Whether it was closed from when she had left or not, she was unable to tell. The two mages were close behind her but Leliana grabbed at the door handle before they could snatch the opportunity away from her. No matter what was contained in the room, she would not be deprived from being the first to see it. She had spent too long alone with Elissa to allow any other to steal the knowledge of the woman's fate from her.

Yet as Leliana pushed at the door, heavier than she remembered, she felt her throat constrict and the last call of Zevran's name died in her mouth. But as the door scrapped across the stone floor, the sight of Zevran rising from the chair beside the bed where he had been keeping vigil was among one of the most welcome she had ever seen. He had made a makeshift sling from some of the bedding to better support his still broken arm so that it would not hinder him from the task she had entrusted him with. The dagger rested in his good hand and the casualness with which he held it contradicted the easy skill with which he was able to put it to use even injured as he was.

Morrigan gave a curse as Wynne pushed past both Witch and Bard towards Elissa lying in the bed.

Zevran dutifully moved away to allow the healer greater access to the bed and joined Leliana and Morrigan as they hovered at the base of the bed.

"Are you alright?" Leliana murmured to him.

"Yes. I am glad you made it before our darkspawn friends."

"There is time yet for their arrival," Morrigan muttered, her gaze fixed on Wynne as she appointed herself as overseer to the mage's actions.

Leliana and Zevran fell silent as they followed the Witch's stare. Wynne had thrown the sheets from Elissa's body and her hands hovered over the woman, racing across the prone figure as if searching out key areas that were invisible to the small group of onlookers. As she worked, the mage's expression remained consistent with only a small frown of concentration breaking her otherwise impassive appearance. If they had not known the extent of Elissa's injuries then it would have been a simple mistake to assume that Wynne was only intent on waking Elissa from a deep sleep.

As Wynne's gesture grew slower and she seemed to return again and again to the wound Leliana knew was in the Warden's shoulder, the Bard asked the question. "Can you heal her?"

The elder mage did not answer for a few moments as she continued to stare intently down at her patient. In truth, it had not taken her long to discover how close to death Elissa was. Neither had it taken her much time to realise what was required to bring the woman back from the brink. Leliana had spoken more truthfully than she realised when she had told Alistair that the Warden would need the mage's skill.

Promises ran through her head. She was faced with a choice that neither she nor Alistair had ever imagined would occur. And yet she had still been right. It was not his choice to make. It was hers.

Wynne blinked and raised her head to look at the others. The answer was as much a response to Leliana as it was to her own question. "Yes."

"How can we help?" Leliana asked.

"I will need..." the mage cast her eye around the room as if seeking out the relevant necessities when in fact only one was required. "More water. And cloths." She debated what else a Chantry may have within its walls which would give enough time for her to complete her healing without interference. "And wine."

"Wine?" Morrigan raised a sceptical eyebrow. "Tis not a common requirement for such healing."

"Are you familiar with such extensive healing, dear?" Years of experience of dealing with petulant young Circle mages had proven to be excellent training for belligerent young Witches.

"I know where there is wine. I will bring it all to you," Leliana interrupted, turning for the door.

"Take Morrigan," Wynne ordered, more hastily than she had intended. "We do not know if there are darkspawn hiding in the rooms."

"What about Zevran?" Leliana paused as Morrigan made to protest at being instructed about like one of the healer's students.

Wynne eyed the elf. He returned the look with one of his own unblinking ones. "He may remain with me. I will see to his injuries."

The Bard nodded and shot a warning look at Morrigan. With a brief glance back at Elissa, the Witch capitulated without further protest and followed Leliana from the room.

Zevran cocked an eyebrow at the mage in front of him. "Wine?"

Wynne gave a wry smile. "I am quite certain that at least one of you may require the restoring benefits of wine shortly."

"What shall I tell them?" The elf did not attempt to dissuade her from her decision.

In respect of his acceptance, the mage did not waste time enquiring how he had worked out her true intent. "Nothing."

"As you wish." He moved to the opposite side of the bed from Wynne. Perching on the edge of it, he placed the dagger on the sheets beside him.

"There is more damage here than is any healer's power to restore," the mage warned. "All I can give is life. She must find her own purpose."

Zevran gave a nod. "I understand."

Wynne drew in a deep breath and gathered all her concentration. As she centred herself, she felt the presence of the Spirit within her as she called forth the full extent of its power. She spread her hands and held them over Elissa's body. The glow beneath them grew brighter and brighter until it was impossible for Zevran to look at them. As the mage channelled the healing, the heat in the room began to rise until it was almost unbearable. The elf could feel beads of sweat form at the base of his neck. All of a sudden, with no hint of sound, there was an explosion of light and warmth which engulfed the whole room as the mage was no longer able to control the magic surging through her.

Caught in the aftermath, Zevran felt the shards of his broken arm knit together under his skin. The various wounds, aches and pains all melted away as the healing magic soaked into every pore of his being. Blinded by the blast of light, he was unable to do much else except scrabble towards where he knew Elissa lay. Finding her hand still lying on the bedding, he gripped it in his own and waited.

As the magic ebbed from the room, dissipating into nothingness, there was an instant of silence before the thud of Wynne's body as it hit the floor.

In the next moment, the sound of a blood curdling shriek from the woman lying in the bed filled the air.

Alistair did not have the words to explain it. One moment and yet once it passed, he could only describe the change through its very presence. It was as though he had found something that he had been still to realise was missing but on discovering it, could never imagine a time when he did not know it. His control over the taint had always been basic at best and his constant presence at Elissa's side had negated the desire to improve that control. But as he lay pinned on the ground and faced with the sight of what would be his own killing blow, Alistair clearly heard the sound of the taint within Elissa join once more with the chattering racket at the back of his head.

Whatever else had happened, she was alive.

The sword above his head faltered as the General also discovered the revived song of the second Grey Warden. In that brief second, Alistair heaved himself to the side as Oghren's axe swung in an arc and caught the General in the back. With a well-practiced roll, Alistair found his feet and whirled round with shield and sword at the ready. Oghren had already drawn his weapon back for another blow and as the dwarf poured all of his strength into it, Alistair stepped forward so that the General became impaled on the Warden's sword. Wrenching the weapon from the creature, he overpowered it with his shield and before it could even hit the ground Oghren's axe was buried deep in its throat.

Panting from the effort, Alistair made to turn to the Chantry but the shadow which passed across the marketplace caused both Grey Warden and dwarves to look skyward. The Archdemon was twisting and turning in mid-air with a screech that rang in both Alistair's ears and through his blood. Drawn as it had been from the sky by the restored call of the taint in Elissa, Riordan had seized his opportunity and succeeded in using the distraction to his advantage. Alistair could just about make out the Senior Warden's form as he precariously hung onto the dragon's back. As the creature rolled through the air, it began to gain height over Denerim so that Alistair had to shield his eyes to keep track of it. He watched as it collided with one of the towers before there was a lurch in its flight and another screech. As it tumbled back through the sky, it became clear that Riordan had succeeded in hurting the creature. Seeking out the highest rooftop, it dove onto the top of Fort Drakon as they had planned. As Alistair lost sight of the creature, he could only hope that Riordan had somehow survived the fall.

He looked back to his own fight. With the General no longer coordinating the battle, the ogres were disorientated and unfocused. The dwarves were making light work of killing those who remained. A flash of red and the stench of Maker knew what Oghren was encrusted in reassured Alistair that the dwarf was unharmed.

"You owe me a barrel of ale!" Alistair found himself yelling in the general direction of the flash. Relief at his own survival as well as Elissa's banished his melancholy for the moment.

Oghren glanced up to see the man standing stock still as chaos continued around him. He grunted as he hacked at yet another ogre. "Sodding Wardens! Take all the glory and do none of the work! You owe me a barrel, pike-twirler!"

The pike-twirling Grey Warden to whom the insult was thrown merely grinned. As the dwarves dealt with the last ogre, Alistair continued to evade his workload and looked back around the marketplace. As close as he had been to doing it, he could not trust himself to return to the Chantry. He knew if he found himself at her side once again then he would not be strong enough to leave it, duty or otherwise. The Archdemon had been brought down. He could not waver now.

It was enough to know she was alive.

Reassured that the marketplace was empty of any further significant threat, Alistair issued a rapid succession of orders to his group. He directed the dwarves towards the steps leading out from the district and towards the Fort while issuing a summons that those who had been left at the city gates were to join them immediately.

And all the while, her song resonated throughout his heart and soul.

I hereby nominate myself for the cheesiest line to end a chapter on!
... But it had to be done ;)