I don't know.

The three words floated around her head as she stared listlessly out the window. Her world was at a slant as her head rested on Alistair's chest while he slept. The scratching presence of a single taint was an odd comfort. All that had sustained her in the depths of despair, she took a pleasure from having the sensation invade her mind in a way that had previously irritated her. Like much else, she had taken for granted just what it had meant. Always a brother-in-arms, quickly a friend and finally a lover; the taint had provided a constant connection between them. She had no wish to be without it now.

Neither do I.

His response had been a surprise. It suggested that he too had doubts but whether those doubts were the same as hers, she could not tell. Yet lying next to him, hidden away, she felt more contented than she had been for such a long time. But the thought of what lay beyond that door, the expectations and the pressures and the never ending demands. That was still too much to bear.

Elissa shut her eyes as though having the strength to make such a simple gesture could banish the thoughts from her mind. She felt torn between pride and shame. Pride that the man who preferred to follow had led his country to victory. Shame that he had been forced to because of her own weakness. There seemed no easy way to reconcile the two.

And there was no easy way to avoid what she had demanded of him. Against his better judgement, he had let her go. Such devotion could be seen as warped but she chose to see it as how it had been intended. In his place, she doubted whether she would have been able to make the same decision.

But lying there, she finally found an answer to the question that had tormented her so.

And.

For him and because of him. It seemed so simple, lying here with no whispering doubts and none of the paralysing fear that all she had risked had been for nothing. That particular future had come and gone, been defeated and now she basked in the new-found serenity of the moment. Her thoughts had been for her own survival but she was able to appreciate now that even amongst her own desperate need to survive, she had known that she could not survive without him. The two intertwined in a way she had thought was a failing. Now, she could see it as realistic.

It was that new-found understanding that she did not want to die which forced some of the darkness back from her heart. Her despair remained the unwavering companion of late but the desire to end it all had passed. At least for the moment. She did not feel strong enough to promise it was banished forever. But for the moment was a step forward in itself.

Elissa opened her eyes again, her gaze focusing on the shadows across the floor which were slowly growing shorter as the sun rose higher in the sky. It was too much to hope for that they would continue to be left alone for much longer. Her heart beat a little faster as panic began to overwhelm her and she gripped at the material of his shirt, anxious that he not leave her.

Without missing a beat, Alistair's hand moved to covers hers. His fingers pushed against hers until she loosened her grip enough to allow him to intertwine his in between her own. Tilting her head, Elissa saw that although his eyes remained closed, his throat worked as he swallowed in an effort to coax his voice into life.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked eventually, voice gruff in spite of his attempts.

She gave a small shake of her head as she laid her head back where it had been resting. She didn't want to talk. Not yet. Talking would only bring all that lay on the other side of the door so much closer. Except rather than the expectations, pressures and demands of others, it would all be his. And after all that had happened, she knew she had no right to deny him any answer that he wished to have.

The real fear surfaced. Shame, guilt, despair. She had felt those ever since she had woken in the Chantry. But then she had been convinced that she would not leave the rooftop of the Fort. As difficult as it had been to bear, she had known her end would come soon. But now she was confronted with a different end. Of all the things they did not know and of all the ends that would have to be faced, she was terrified that what they had was already destroyed. It may not be visible now but the cracks would surely begin to show. And she had no right to make any demand for reassurance.

The inevitable knock she had been dreading came all too soon.

"Alistair?" The muffled sound of Eamon's voice travelled through from the other side.

With a groan, Alistair released his hold over Elissa's hand as he made to push himself into a sitting position. Elissa lay still as though frozen, her fingers pinching into his flesh and making him wince.

"Don't," she begged in a hoarse whisper. "Don't leave me."

He gently prised her grip off of him and manoeuvred her so that she lay down against the pillows. "I'm not leaving."

"Once you open that door, everything else will rush in. You won't be able to stop it. Please don't," she pleaded, seizing his wrists in a vice grip he wouldn't have thought possible in her weakened state and pulling them against her so that he was unable to move without being rough with her.

He chose not to resist but only leant forward and brushed a kiss across her lips. "We can't stay like this forever, love."

The knocking came again and Elissa shrunk back from the sound, casting a frantic look between the door and Alistair.

"Alistair!" Eamon sounded as though he was growing increasingly impatient and genteel courtesy was not going to prevent him from entering for much longer.

"Don't," she mouthed, too scared to even speak.

"You need to trust me," he said quietly, still not resisting as she clung onto him but his voice and gaze were steady. "Trust in me, love."

She stared up at him, wide-eyed with some impossible fear that she was still to find the strength to confide in him. Then with a convulsion rather than a voluntary release, her hands fell from his wrists. "I trust you."

He gave her a small smile before shuffling back off the bed and finding his feet. He moved to the door but out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Elissa as she cowered back against the pillow, huddling beneath the sheets. The helplessness he felt at being unable to reassure her caused a flash of unbidden anger and he wrenched open the door, struggling to contain the surge of fury at the unsuspecting cause of her most immediate distress.

Eamon gave a deliberate bow. "Your Majesty."

The pointed courtesy was enough to force Alistair to douse the majority of his inner flames. He stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him. "I'm sorry, Eamon. What is it?"

"How is the Warden?"

"She has no visible injuries," Alistair chose his words carefully.

"I am glad to hear it." Obligatory concern given and acknowledged, the Arl broached the real purpose of his personally conducted search for Alistair. "We must begin to discuss a means of recovering the city."

"Right now?"

"It has been a day, Alistair. I have done as much as I can but the presence of the King cannot be substituted."

"A day? We've slept a whole day?"

"A day and a half if you wish to be entirely accurate."

Alistair rubbed at his face with a groan and found the stubble across his jaw a testament to Eamon's claim. Thoughts which he had pushed aside in favour of being with Elissa, in favour of beginning the process by which his heart and soul could begin to be repaired now crowded into the forefront of his mind. "What about the others?"

The flash of unease across Eamon's face chilled any of the smouldering embers of his anger.

"Tell me," he demanded.

"Leliana will recover although there is significant damage both inside and out. The elf, dwarf and Qunari have been taking turns to organise and assist with the recovery efforts. But the Witch has vanished. No one has seen her since she was brought here for healing yesterday."

"What?"

"She seems to have disappeared. I have sent guards to find her but with not so much as a sighting, we have no idea where to look."

Alistair took a deep breath. Sleeping spell, indeed. His finger absent-mindedly turned the ring on his finger. "Call the guards back."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," was the short response. Alistair laid a hand back against the door. "I'll meet you in your study in a minute."

"I imagine you would like to clean up first," Eamon queried with a delicate tact.

"I imagine I would," Alistair sighed although the thought of being rid of the exertion of battle was appealing.

"I will send for water to be brought to your rooms."

He caught the tone. "What does that mean?"

"Alistair, you cannot expect to be known to share a room with your fellow Warden."

He stared at the man in disbelief.

"There are ... implications."

"Implications?" he echoed, his voice deepening into a growl. "What implications?"

Emaon remained unflustered. "Your reaction would seem to suggest you know quite well what I'm talking about."

"What do people think..."

"It does not matter what they think. It only matters what can be proved," Eamon interrupted.

He rubbed at his eyes with the base of his palms. He should have listened to her and not opened the door.

"Where is my room?" he muttered at last.

"I will send a servant to show you."

"It's in another part of the estate, isn't it." Worded as though a question, the flatness of the statement came through.

"Temptation is easier avoided when removed from reach."

"Just... send the servant," Alistair gritted his teeth. He should have listened to her and barricaded the door. "Where is Leliana? Is she awake?"

Eamon nodded and gestured to a door a little way down the corridor.

"Could you ask her to come and sit with Elissa?"

The Arl hesitated before shaking his head. "She is bed-bound, Alistair."

"What?" The blood drained from his face. "You said..."

"The mages are hopeful she will recover in time but her injuries are severe."

"Maker," his head fell into his hands.

"It could have been worse, Alistair," the older man reminded him.

"Yes, alright," he gave a short nod, turning back to Elissa's door. "I will find you."

"Of course, your Majesty," Eamon bowed again before turning on heel and striding down the hall.

Alistair retreated back into the room. Elissa stared at him from the bed, still curled in the same way a frightened child would be.

"I told you," she murmured, despair seeping from every pore as she read his expression. "It can't be stopped."

He hated that within only minutes of promising her that he wouldn't leave her, he was shown to be a liar. He hated that he was being forced apart from her before either were truly ready. And he hated that once again he had to entrust to another to look after her.

"I'm sorry, love," Alistair fumbled for the words and came up short. "I... I'll try to be quick."

He wasn't sure why he felt as if he was speaking yet another lie. But he saw from the way she slumped even further beneath the sheets that she heard the lie as well.

"I'll ask one of the mages to come and sit with you."

Elissa remained silent as she resumed her unseeing stare towards the window. It cut him deeper than any accusation she could have thrown at him.

As he slipped from the room once more, he offered her the only thing he had left to give. It took a moment for her to appreciate that in doing so he had given her the confirmation she so desperately craved. It was not the words themselves but the way he spoke them which convinced her. Quiet and undemanding, it was a simple statement that did not expect to be reciprocated because it remained forever constant.

"I love you."

"Your coronation must be completed as soon as possible," Eamon announced almost as soon as Alistair entered the study.

It took a moment for Alistair to wrench his thoughts from those he cared about to events he couldn't care less about. He had checked on Leliana after leaving Elissa's room. The Bard had been sleeping and the mage, the same one who had convinced him to heal Elissa, had shooed him out with a briskness he had both resented and appreciated. It seemed that in terms of healing, he was still very much the one to be commanded and it was a welcome reminder that in some cases at least, he was not expected to know all the answers.

A warning snarl from the Templar watching over her had reminded the mage who she was addressing and with a harried look at the Knight, she had proceeded to reassure Alistair in a whisper that Leliana would live. When he had asked for a mage to sit with Elissa, she had nodded and promised that another healer would be sent to the Hero of Ferelden momentarily.

At that, he had made to leave when the mage narrowed her eyes and seized hold of his arm, resting a hand over his eyes. With a disgruntled mutter, she held up a finger as signal that he wait while she turned and rifled through a small sack of vials that he could only assume were proof of Zevran's looting. Drawing out a small bottle filled with red healing potion, she pressed it into his hand and patted it in a manner that reminded him of Wynne despite this mage's younger years.

He had accepted the vial and asked her name. She had hesitated before telling him. Liahn. The Templar had made another disapproving noise at that and she whirled round, chastising the Knight with softly-spoken threats of what she would do if he woke her patient. Sensing that he was the cause of the apparent disruption between the two, Alistair had allowed himself to be ushered away by Eamon's servant who had appeared shortly after.

Now freshly washed and dressed, he had sought out Eamon as promised.

"The Landsmeet..." Alistair began, sitting in the seat Eamon gestured to.

"The Landsmeet was a necessity for the nobles but the people will require the decision to be ratified by the Chantry. You rule in the Maker's name, after all."

"Alright," Alistair conceded. "But I don't see how this addresses recovering the city?"

"Regaining order is as important as rebuilding," the Arl seemed distracted and Alistair watched with growing suspicion as the older man visibly braced himself for whatever point he needed to broach. "There is another matter."

"Oh?"

"Your betrothal."

Alistair blinked, thrown off guard. "Um... what?"

"Do you still intend on honouring your decision?"

"Honouring my decision?"

"If you wish, it could be overlooked. Dismissed as over eagerness to convince the Landsmeet," Eamon positioned himself behind his desk although he maintained eye contact with Alistair.

"What?"

"It was clear that Elissa's declaration caught you by surprise as much as did the Landsmeet. I take it this was not something she discussed with you before?"

"Why is it important?"

Eamon sighed, shuffling some papers in front of him. "There were rumours that Cailin intended to approach Empress Celene with a proposal."

Alistair eyed his would-be advisor, not following the seemingly abrupt turn in discussion. "And?"

"It could be prudent to explore the option further."

Alistair drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair in an effort to displace his quickening temper as he caught on to what Eamon was tiptoeing around. "Really."

"Yes. A marriage between you would ensure a lasting peace between Ferelden and Orlais."

"You sound like Loghain. Paranoid."

"The occupation is still widely remembered and Ferelden is on its knees. We rely too much on the good nature of our potential enemies."

The drumming became a constant drone as Alistair picked the pace up.

Eamon folded his arms as he regarded the scowling King in front of him; the same scowl he remembered from the man's childhood. "It would give Ferelden the political and economical security to rebuild. And Celene is not so much older than you. She is still likely to be able to bear children."

"I know what is expected of the Crown."

"Then you know you need to be practical, Alistair. How likely is it that Elissa can give you an heir?"

"Don't suggest that it will be her fault, we're both tainted."

"But the truth of the matter is that a non-tainted woman may be able to bear you a child."

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters very much. Your own taint means that you have a limited time on the throne. An heir is paramount."

"I understand that," Alistair retorted with a vehemence that was unusual but he felt trapped and had no other way of defending himself. He forced himself to look at the man who represented his family, "but you have no idea what you're asking of me."

"Yes." Eamon's expression softened. "I know you love her."

"Then you must know I can't do what you want."

"It is not that you can't, it is that you won't. And it is not what I want but what is for the best," Eamon insisted on being pedantic.

Alistair shrugged. Semantics aside, his answer remained a resolute no.

"I don't doubt you love her, Alistair," the Arl continued quietly. "But it will not be enough. Sometimes loving someone is just not enough. But if you won't consider Celene then look at these."

The older man leant across the desk and proffered the bundle of papers he had been shuffling. Alistair accepted them unwillingly, leafing through them with not so much as feigned interest. Contained on the sheets were extensive family histories, all ending with eligible girls.

Alistair rose from his chair and began to pace, still looking through the papers. When he spoke, his tone was ice cold. "You have been busy, Eamon. Someone might almost believe this was written not long after your recovery."

"It is a simple matter to regurgitate family trees when your own family is part of the fabric of Ferelden," the Arl dismissed the implicit accusation. "It may be that there are deaths which I have not accounted for."

The callous nature of the comment caused Alistair to jerk his head up and give Eamon a hard look.

"A marriage is an opportunity to strengthen political ties. Allying yourself with any one of these families will improve your control over Ferelden," Eamon hesitated but having come so far, committed himself. "Bryce Cousland is dead. Elissa wields no power or influence within Ferelden except that which is loaned her from her deceased father's name."

"Elissa gave up her name and title when she became a Grey Warden," the younger man murmured absent-mindedly as if the small fact was as important as the point being made.

"As did you, my King. And yet here we are," came the dry response.

Alistair finally came to a stop in front of the fireplace. "Aren't you going to tell me that since she's given up her title, she's no longer a noble and I can't marry her?"

"I could but her blood speaks otherwise."

"Blood. Always blood," Alistair mused. "Do you think that's why the Grey Wardens insist on renouncing claims? Because the taint travels through the blood and destroys all it touches, inside and out."

"Alistair..." Eamon gave a long-suffering sigh, mistaking the question for flippancy. "It does not matter."

"Yes, it does. It's the whole point..."

"The point is that you have been acknowledged as King, whether that fits in with your own personal wishes or not. The point is that your understanding of duty means you will not allow your country to fall into civil war, whether that fits in with your own personal wishes or not. The point is that you need a woman who will give you an heir, whether that fits in with your personal wishes or not. The point is," Eamon took a deep breath, "that Elissa Cousland stands in your way of achieving all this."

The mounting tension between the men reached a height. With a very deliberate movement, Alistair lifted the first page of the papers. Staring straight at Eamon, willing the older man to confront his actions, he slowly scrunched it into a ball in his fist before throwing it into the fire.

The Arl clenched his fists at his side but chose not to react further. Both men stared wordlessly at each other while Alistair dutifully fed each and every paper into the fire until the entire sheaf was gone. Hands empty once more; he folded his arms and waited.

It took a few minutes before Eamon felt able to speak with the level-head that was needed.

"As you wish, my King," he leant forward in a brief bow. "If you are yet to realise that you must think of Ferelden rather than yourself, have you at least considered what it will mean for Elissa to marry you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The Arl rubbed at his forehead. It was a movement reminiscent of when he had had to defend the boy from the harsh words and irrational arguments of Isolde. "It will be her shame to bear, not yours. Hero or otherwise, when she cannot produce your heir then the rumours will begin. Opinion will begin to turn as people fear for their futures, futures they entrust you with, and pressure will mount. She will bear the brunt of it. There will be some murmurs against you but your Theirin blood will protect you for the most part."

"It doesn't matter..."

"You say that now. And it won't matter, not at first. But slowly, it will creep into her mind and you will be forced to watch as the desperate need consumes her," it was Eamon's turn to pace. "You'll feel her pain at the disappointment at each of her cycles but there will be nothing you can say or do. Even though you hurt, you will have to stand by and let her cope alone because you can't find the words which won't belittle her own grief. Soon, she will be defined entirely by her inability to give you an heir. And eventually all you can do is pray that the Maker will find it in his heart to bless you with a child because suddenly the fulfilment of that desperate need which is driving you both apart has become the only solution." The older man's voice had dropped further and further until it was quiet reflection. "And you'll finally realise that it does actually matter. It matters very much. To you, to her and to everyone else."

Alistair remained quiet, understanding the painful experience from which Eamon spoke.

The Arl sensed that he had struck a cord and pressed home his advantage. "You will be stronger without her."

The flash of recognition which passed across Alistair's face was not what Eamon had expected. It was followed by a stillness which filled the younger man as he answered in an unnervingly calm manner. "I will not be without her."

"Consider what I have said. Think hard, Alistair. Would you see Elissa and her reputation destroyed simply for your own selfish desires? She is the Grey Warden who defeated the Fifth Blight. She will be well-loved by the people and honoured by her fellows Wardens. Are you the one to take that from her?" Eamon bowed, sensing that he had pushed his argument too far for the moment and that the conversation had reached its end. "In the meantime, we must look at how best to re-establish trade routes..."

While Eamon turned effortlessly to the most pressing economical issues that needed to be addressed, Alistair was given no time to argue with the man. He nodded without word to Eamon's prattle as a numbness stole through his mind. The only thought he could hold onto was the most inane.

He should have barricaded that damned door.