The broad daylight of midday had waned into the twilight of dusk and still Korgik's quill scrapped across the vellum. There was a professional pride in the manner to which the dwarf approached his task. Hunched over the table with nose almost touching the sheet, Korgik curled an arm around the page as he wrote as though protecting the words from being disturbed by the impure aural account that he had the responsibility of sifting through.

And there was much to be sifted. The story of the previous year was complex even when the two inexperienced Wardens had not intended it to be and Argarth insisted that each detail Alistair gave was examined in full before allowing Korgik to commit it to the record. Unperturbed by the tense atmosphere which was developing between Commander and junior Warden as a result of their fraying patience, Korgik took the lengthy breaks as opportunity to carry out small but necessary administrative duties. The quill tip was sharpened, the completed sheets of vellum blotted and the unmarked sheets straightened into a neat pile in preparation while the dwarf absorbed the main details of the discussion which carried on around him in anticipation of Argarth's instruction to make the record.

Intentional or otherwise, the behaviour of the former archivist had a calming influence on Alistair. Even as Argarth needled him for explanations to decisions he had had no part in, Alistair had watched the second dwarf out of the corner of his eye. Never reacting but always listening, the true objectivity of Korgik was a soothing complement to Argarth's insatiable desire to uncover some hidden truth. Whatever else happened, Alistair could believe that Korgik's account would be an accurate representation of his words. And somehow, that seemed important.

"And you are certain that she took the blow?" Argarth pressed.

"Yes." Alistair sighed.

Initially he had begun the tale with a posture befitting a Grey Warden and King but retelling events, most of which were long past, had quickly revealed themselves as still being too close to his heart and he found himself to be as weary in mind as he was in body. True, there had been times when camaraderie had eased the burden which had settled firmly on their shoulders but the more recent events that had occurred since his night with Morrigan tainted the memories he saw in his mind's eye.

"You had no part in it?"

"I told you. I used my sword to slash its underbelly and then Elissa drove my sword through its skull."

Argarth shook his head, a scowl darkening his features. "This cannot be, Warden."

Alistair dropped his head further until his chin was almost resting on his chest. His shoulders had long since slumped and his gaze had fallen to the floor as his tongue had turned traitor. Tripping and stumbling over the details as he had recounted the events that had occurred on the rooftop, his once clear voice had faded to a reticent mumble. For reasons he wished to leave unexplored for fear it would uncover a pity he could not bear to be recipient of, Argarth had grown silent as Alistair talked through the first telling of the battle. But that had been over two bells ago and still the Warden-Commander returned to the very crux of the story. Korgik sat with arms folded on the desk, quill resting parallel to the top of the vellum while he waited for Argarth to extract all the information that he intended.

"It was your honour to kill the demon once Riordan failed and yet you allow your junior-ranking Warden and lover to take the blow for you?"

Alistair flinched and heaved his head from his chest to stare at Argarth. He had made the decision to hide nothing aside from the ritual and recounting how low Elissa had fallen had been as painful as though it had been his own shame.

"Yes, yes, despairing," the dwarf anticipated the argument that was written across Alistair's face. "I think the truth is far simpler. Either we have a coward in our ranks or you knew she would not die."

"I thought she was dead," the words were spoken in a monotone.

"So you admit to being a coward then."

"No," a small spark of irritation lifted the monotone to a more persuasive conviction. "She did it because she love..."

"So now it's love," a derisive smirk surfaced on the dwarf's face. "Did the purity of the love you bear one another shine a light upon the corrupted darkness of the creature and banished it back from whence it came?"

A flush crept across Alistair's cheeks at the blatant ridicule.

"I thought not. Do not try and tell me that just because you made a choice to rut with a woman that it ended up saving your life."

"Believe what you want."

The apparent petulance of the statement was contradicted by the renewed resilience that crept into Alistair's stance. Shoulders still hunched but his gaze had moved from the floor and he met Argarth's stare without hesitation. Eyeing the man, Argarth dismissed the change in attitude as a last ditch attempt to regain some control of an increasingly spiralling conversation. Following Alistair's lead, Argarth took a breath in an effort to regain his temper and gestured towards Korgik as an indication that he take down the details as they had been presented.

In the silence which followed, broken only by the scratch of Korgik's quill as his hand flew across the vellum with well-practiced ease, Alistair lowered his gaze once more. Withdrawing into himself, he took the lull in the debriefing to gather his thoughts as best he could. Eamon had attempted to intervene not long after they had begun and the commotion that had resounded from the corridor as the Arl had clashed with the Grey Wardens standing guard outside gave some suggestion as to how the man would react when Argarth did eventually permit Alistair to leave.

He would have to visit the Arl. And Zevran, Oghren and Sten. And he was overdue a visit to Leliana. Then of course, Elissa. But then, Maker willing, perhaps he could go to bed. More than that, perhaps he could go to bed and sleep. No deep discussions and no heart-wrenching revelations, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. Where, he was not overly concerned. His bed, her bed, the dog's bed; any bed was welcome so long as it offered peace and quiet.

Korgik grunted as a signal that the Warden-Commander could continue with the interview when he was ready. Disturbed from his thoughts, Alistair lifted his head with a weary sigh and braced himself.

Argarth studied the man in front of him, allowing a few more minutes to pass in an effort to reclaim some of the tension bearing down on Alistair that had been lost while Korgik wrote.

"Of course," the dwarf spoke as though continuing a conversation that had only paused for a moment. "It could be that Cousland hoped to complete her plans for the throne."

Stifling a snort, Alistair permitted himself a frown. "Plans?"

Argarth waved a hand towards Korgik to indicate that he need not note all of the following down. "Tell me how you were recruited, Alistair. Am I correct that Duncan invoked the Right of Conscription?"

"Yes. The Revered Mother didn't want to let me go."

"Are you aware that invoking the Right is unusual in Ferelden?"

Alistair gave a guarded shake of his head. The conversational tone of the Commander was at odds with what had gone before.

"It is," Argarth rubbed at his eyes. The first sign of the Commander's weariness. "Political ramifications. Does the name Sophia Dryden mean anything to you?"

"She was Warden-Commander at Soldier's Peak," Alistair chose to omit the fact that her rotting corpse had also been possessed by a demon until only a few months ago.

Sensing the omission if not its content, Argarth fixed a hard stare on him. "Yes. As a result of her actions, justified or otherwise, the Grey Wardens were exiled from Ferelden. Your father..." Involuntarily Alistair flinched at the word but Argarth chose to ignore the reaction. "... allowed our Order to return."

Alistair remained silent, waiting for the dwarf to elaborate on the point of the history lesson. As Argarth continued to stare at him, the Commander could not be certain whether the show of dull-wittedness was feigned or genuine. Ancestors help them both if it was the latter.

"Now only decades after our return to Ferelden, another Grey Warden stands at the tip of a politically charged explosive which runs through the very seam of the country."

"This isn't like Sophia."

The simple statement, evidence of at least a basic understanding of political tensions, demonstrated that the idiocy had been feigned. It was small relief to the Warden-Commander.

"No. This is worse," the dwarf slammed a hand on the table, making Korgik jump before he huddled even further over his vellum. "That ... incident ... seems trivial in comparison to this." Argarth began to pace the length of the room and both junior Wardens were forced to move their heads as they tracked his movement. "Two Grey Wardens, the last of their Order in Ferelden, actively campaigned to alter the politics of their country to the extent that one has been set on the throne and there is a belief that the other will become his Queen-Consort. Throughout Ferelden, there is talk of the Grey Warden King." Argarth whirled round from his pacing and advanced on Alistair. "Tell me Warden, how does one become a Grey Warden King when we renounce all claims?" Without waiting for Alistair to respond, Argarth resumed his pacing but this time there was a marked stamp which caused his armour to rattle and Korgik's ink to slosh. Casting an ill-hidden dirty look towards his Commander, Korgik lifted the small bottle from the table and clutched it in his hands where it would be safe from the vibrations. "If that were not enough, the widow of the previous King..." Argarth shot a glare at the human as he passed him, "... who herself has a legitimate claim to the throne, is awaiting execution on your order."

The dwarf ground to a halt and purposefully stared into the fire as he attempted to reign in the torrent of abuse that was ready to fall from the tip of his tongue. Anticipating a greater restraint from his Commander, Korgik tentatively replaced the ink bottle on the make-shift desk. Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, Argarth shook his head as a long exhale escaped from between his gritted teeth. Shooting a dirty look of his own towards the record-keeper, Argarth turned back to Alistair with a regained temper.

"Your participation in these events has made a mockery of the Joining and the oath that binds us. Becoming a Grey Warden is an honour and not one that can be disregarded when it is no longer convenient. It is a commitment that cannot be forsaken," Argarth held up a hand as he saw Alistair make to speak. "You would have done well to remember this earlier. As it is, if we insist that you honour your oath to us then it will be the Grey Wardens who bear the brunt of your foolishness. But if we allow you to take up your prior claim then we risk throwing the entire Order into complete chaos."

Thrown by the unexpected turn the debriefing had taken, Alistair could only stutter. "There ... there have been others ... others who have left..."

"No, Alistair. You do not leave the Order. There are others who have chosen their own path and who may wish to believe that they have cut all ties but they remain Wardens whether they like it or not. And if it should become necessary then they will be forced to honour their oath."

"I'll do the same."

"And when our agenda differs from that of your country, Alistair? What then? When the sheer relief at not being destroyed by a Blight fades? When your popularity is questioned? When a harvest fails and the people are hungry? What then?" Argarth folded his arms across his chest as though doing so would keep his rage from deep within seeping out. "Then, Alistair, you are once again the Grey Warden who seeks to exert political influence over a country. You will only be King so long as things are going well."

"That's cynical..."

"It is realistic! And the fact that you do not recognise it as such only serves to emphasise that whatever blood claim you may have had, it is not a sufficient qualification to rule a country." The dwarf shook his head, turning away from Alistair and looking towards the fire once more. "I only knew Duncan by reputation. But he was known for foresight. I cannot see why it failed him when he chose you."

The chafing sting of the insult chased away the last of the lethargy which had begun to encase his body and mind. With a growl, he confronted the dwarf. "What does that mean?"

Argarth spun round. The growing disdain that had appeared on his face was cleansed by an expression of genuine surprise. "You do not know?"

"Know what?"

The Warden-Commander shook his head as a contemptuous sneer made itself obvious. Muttering under his breath, he remarked "he should have let you die on the field."

The comment acted as salt to the previous insult and Alistair found himself taking a step towards the dwarf, his face contorted into an ugly snarl. Korgik jumped to his feet, one hand on sword and the other poised over the stack of vellum to prevent it falling to the floor. But while Korgik spared a thought for his meticulous records, Argarth squared up to the human. Alistair purposefully drew himself to full height as he loomed over the Commander and hissed, "If I'd had my way, I would have!"

An expectant tension settled over the room as each waited for some reaction from the other. It was the Warden-Commander who finally regained the presence of mind to break the stand-off. In all truth, he was surprised to see the fervour with which Alistair defended himself and his former mentor. The Cousland temper had been well-reported but her fellow Warden... No.

"Enough," Argarth moved away from Alistair and signalled that Korgik should return to his seat as well. He moved to the wall, leaning against it as he faced the human. He intended that the increased space between them would act as a barrier but the building pressure showed no sign of dissipating. "I cannot see a way forward from this. You will have to renounce your claim as the Joining demands. Be grateful the widow still lives otherwise your actions would have thrown your country into anarchy."

"No. I will not see Anora on the throne." The resolve with which Alistair spoke was mirrored in his stance. Resembling the manner in which he had first entered, the look on his face was grim determination.

"Your opinion is irrelevant."

"By placing her on the throne, you are interfering in Ferelden's politics."

Argarth pushed himself off of the wall and it was only a well-timed clearing of the throat from Korgik which prevented the Commander from cuffing the insolent man. Instead he settled for a throaty snarl which made no secret of what his true intention had been towards Alistair. "Remember your place, Warden. This is your mess, not mine."

"If you will not allow me to honour the Landsmeet decision," even as the red mist descended around him, Alistair saw the benefit of pausing for a moment to emphasise that the decision had been ratified by the nobility, "then what do you intend with us?"

"It is uncertain. Cousland will need to be questioned further but having abandoned her oath once then I cannot see how she can be allowed to remain in Ferelden without close supervision. She is likely to be recalled to Weisshaupt. As for you, Alistair, I do not know. There are other Wardens who once called Ferelden home. They will likely be asked to take your place here. However thanks to your actions, I cannot see that either they or you will be welcome within these borders."

"Elissa has to stay with me," the bluntness of the statement did nothing to dull the frustrated anger of the dwarf. "King or Warden, she stays with me."

"You are no King," Argarth snubbed the use of title. "And as Warden, you will go where you are ordered."

Sustained by the growing rage that was consuming his previous tiredness, Alistair was visibly shaking. But before he could speak, Argarth took the initiative.

"That will be all, Warden."

For all his shaking, Alistair was unable to convert that energy into movement and he remained rooted to the spot.

Taking it as a form of vain resistance to the reality of what had been said, Argarth emphasised the instruction. "Dismissed, Warden."

With a stumble backwards that he resented for the show of weakness it inferred, Alistair stormed to the door and wrenched it open. Shoving past the two Warden standing guard outside, he was intent only in putting as much distance between him and the Warden-Commander before his fermenting animosity towards the dwarf could engulf any rational thought.

All the promises they had made to each other were crumbling to dust. But more than that, it was no longer about only them. As much as the issue of an heir threatened the security of Ferelden, it remained an abstract concern for the moment. The very real threat of civil war was anything but.

Moving through corridors which were becoming increasingly familiar, there was only one person who could provide some form of solution to the problem which now faced him and Ferelden. As dramatic as it sounded. Coronation or not, he felt the responsibility of kingship all too keenly to absolve himself of the effect that his ousting by the Grey Wardens would have.

Alistair did not bother to knock but pushed open the door to Eamon's study. At Alistair's entrance, Eamon looked towards him but quickly pushed his chair back and stood up as the younger man's demeanour told him that whatever the Grey Wardens had discussed with him, it bode ill. Dispensing with any attempt at civility, Eamon stabbed a finger towards the chair in front of desk.

"Tell me everything."