The warmth with which Alistair was greeted by the amiable mob that surrounded him and his guards was a pleasant if disconcerting experience. Relief that their initial response to him had not been a fluke banished the small worry which had taken residence at the back of his mind and he found himself to be less stilted than when he had been accompanied by Eamon.

But the lack of ceremony on which he stood helped to loosen the tongues around him and grumbles began to reach his ears with regards to the practicalities of living when the destruction caused by the Hore only made life so much more difficult. Not for the first time, Alistair wondered just how he was to fill this role when he knew so little.

His guards were evidently trained to be sensitive to changing moods because they began to close around him as they mistook his lack of confidence for apprehension.

"It's alright, it's alright," he countered hurriedly to them as the atmosphere through the crowd became noticeably charged as the people took the movement as a slur.

Turning back to the crowd, Alistair fell back on old habits. He muttered a small joke and the sound of laughter, forced or otherwise, spread throughout the multitude. Encouraged by the reaction, he found himself responding to the anonymous complaints in earnest and was surprised that he began to stand taller as he emphasised his words with gestures while his eyes flickered over the crowd in an attempt to include them all. Andraste help him, he had been paying attention to how Elissa did this after all.

His newly discovered confidence was swiftly dented however as one particular insistent voice towards the back of the crowd shouted out over what he was saying.

"Them elves and dwarves need to go! We can't support ourselves let alone them!"

Unwilling to be confrontational even when circumstances demanded it, Alistair was still to learn how to impose his will even if it was unpopular and a strained silence fell over the crowd as they waited for some form of reply. He had the sense that the majority of the crowd were keen to be persuaded by his argument but that they would not tolerate anything which opposed the facts as they saw it. He would have to acknowledge the difficulties yet stress the need of it, at least for the moment.

He took a deep breath. "Ferelden would have fallen to the darkspawn if it were not for the assistance from the Dalish and the dwarves. We need to show our gratitude towards them."

The earnestness with which his hands punctuated the words helped to convey the belief he had in what he said. There was a half hearted retort from the back but he had evidently proven himself enough for one day and a soft murmur of chorused voices emanated from the group as the protester was shouted down.

The vague sense of animosity ebbed from the crowd and Alistair ran a hand through his hair in an unconscious attempt to calm himself down. It was with no small amount of relief that he recognised the figures of Sten and Oghren on the periphery of the crowd. Occupied as he had been with speaking with the crowd, he had failed to notice that Zevran had slipped away to fetch their former companions.

The presence of the Qunari at their backs was a suitable prompt for the people to begin to disperse although some lingered to offer a last few well-wishes for the health of the Hero. He accepted the words gladly and even managed to force a habitual grin in response.

The trio drew ever closer him as the number of people surrounding him diminished until there were only the four companions and the guards left in the small part of the marketplace.

"Been wonderin' when you'd show your face, lad," Oghren blustered with a suspicious glare. "You owe me six soddin' barrels of ale."

Over the dwarf's head, Alistair saw both Sten and Zevran roll their eyes. Evidently this had been a point of some discussion over the last day or so.

"Six?" he tapped his forefinger against his chin as though trying to remember the exact terms of their arrangement. "That doesn't seem right, Oghren. I do remember promising one though."

"Pah," the dwarf bristled and crossed his arms across his chest. "Soddin' Wardens. Just as well I've already drunk two barrels."

"What? Where did you get two barrels?"

"Where else? The cellars."

A low and long groan escaped from Alistair as his head fell into his hands. "You've been in the palace before me?"

"I knew you couldn't be trusted to keep your word, pike-twirler."

"Eamon is going to love this." He heard the whimper in his voice and forced himself to clear his throat in an effort to distance himself from the distinctly unmanly whine. Lifting his head, he saw that Oghren was grinning widely at him and he directed the accusation at Zevran, "Why didn't you bloody stop him?"

The elf simply shrugged. "It took our beautiful Warden and all her feminine wiles to control him. What did you expect that I do?"

"Fine, fine," Alistair rolled his eyes before focusing back on Oghren. "Then it's four barrels I owe you."

"Don't think so. I rustled those two barrels myself. Where they came from is of no concern to me."

Something twigged at the back of his mind and Alistair scrunched his eyes shut as he asked the question. "How many barrels are left in the cellars?"

Before Oghren could answer with a number that it seemed would inevitably challenge Alistair's patience, Sten gave a grunt. "How is the Warden?"

"She is recovering well," Alistair seized on the change of topic with some relief. He really had no intention of reneging on his wager but to find that Oghren had availed himself of what the Palace had to offer even while the Grey Wardens were challenging his claim rankled. Not that the dwarf would have been aware of the challenge but the effect remained the same.

Sten gave another small grunt that Alistair took to be a sign of satisfaction although whether it was at his response or the break in petty argument, he wasn't sure. "I have need to speak with her."

"Heh, reckon I wouldn't mind havin' a word with her myself," Oghren added.

Surprised that they were asking his permission, he cast a questioning look towards Zevran. "Did you tell them they couldn't visit?"

Before he could answer, Oghren interrupted with a snort.

"Nah, nothin' to do with the elf. Just didn't think she needed us all traipsing in and out, is all."

"Nice to see you can show some consideration," Alistair muttered before brushing aside the brewing retort he could already see on the dwarf's face. "She's speaking with the Orlesians at the moment but they should be finished by late afternoon. Come and see her this evening. I'll even find a barrel of ale for you, Oghren."

"On or off the books?" the dwarf raised an eyebrow. "I ain't sharing one of mine."

It was Zevran's turn to step in between man and dwarf. He cleared his throat and gestured towards the gates of the district. "Come, Alistair. I will show you where Wynne and Riordan now lie."

Sten's expression darkened and he fixed a disparaging look on Alistair. "All that remains are the charred remains. There is nothing to honour there."

"For you, perhaps," Alistair replied tersely. Past conversations with Sten had taught him that the Qunari was entirely motivated by his belief in the teachings of the Qun but he found it increasingly difficult to tolerate the unequivocal attitude which always accompanied that belief.

"You revere a shell and not the individual that once existed within."

"Then don't come."

"I do not intend to." The Qunari shrugged and turned away from the three companions. Walking away towards whatever duty he had appropriated for himself, he threw over his shoulder. "Send the elf to fetch me when the Warden is able to speak with me."

Recounting the vague detail Wynne had revealed to her with regards the Spirit which sustained her, Elissa had made a point of not embellishing and instead allowed her audience to draw their own conclusions from her tale.

Having heard the extent of her explanation, Torih seemed to be at a loss for words. Eventually through gritted teeth, he managed, "this is quite the revelation, Warden."

Argarth shifted in his chair and the resounding creak as the wood protested at the movement startled them both so that they looked to the Warden-Commander in an expectant silence.

"Is it possible that this account can be verified?"

"Zevran and Leliana were there when I was healed."

The dwarf shook his head. "You will forgive us if we do not place much faith in corroboration from your companions, Warden."

A tense silence fell over the room as the Wardens waited for an answer that she was unable to give. There was no way to prove her account but the act of having spoken truthfully meant that Elissa found she was able to keep her head held high without flinching.

Finally Korgik broke the silence with a grunt, his head still bowed over his sheets of vellum. "The Circle healer."

"What?" Torih demanded irritably from his subordinate.

The dwarf dipped his quill in the ink and made a point of teasing the excess from the nib before pressing it to the vellum as he amended some small detail. "The Circle healer who persuaded Theirin to allow the mages to examine her. She may have a greater understanding of this."

"No!" Elissa straightened her legs and pushed herself off the bed. Taking a few steps towards Argarth, Torih took her actions to be threatening and he moved to intercept her so that she was forced to speak over the elf's shoulder at the Warden-Commander. "You can't speak to the Circle mages about this!"

The dwarf rose to his feet and made a noise at the back of this throat which was clearly intended as a signal that Torih stand down. With a reluctant tread, the elf backed away so that he no longer blocked the space between the two.

"The Circle are still recovering from Uldred. You can't reveal that another of their High Enchanters was possessed. It would spark chaos. Please, Commander," she pleaded, "please. You can't speak to any of the mages or Templars about this."

Argarth studied her and she understood that he was attempting to evaluate to what extent he could trust what she said.

"This is too convenient, Commander," Torih intervened, obviously having come to the same conclusion as to the process his Commander was currently going through.

"Enough, Torih." The rebuke tripped from the dwarf's tongue with a familiarity that hinted towards its overuse. Argarth approached Elissa so that he stood only a few paces from her. "We have no interest in your Circle or Chantry."

"Just as you have no interest in politics," she countered.

The only effect the statement had on the dwarf was a brief narrowing of his eyes. "What do you know of our involvement in politics, Warden?"

"I know you are challenging Alistair's claim." The lack of reaction from either Argarth or Torih forced her to continue on without any direction as to which strand of the argument would be more persuasive. "Revealing this information will be just as destructive whether you intend it or not."

"I see." Argarth turned and moved towards Korgik with an outstretched hand indicating that he wished to reread the account as it had been recorded. Korgik surrendered the sheets with no small degree of agitation which his Commander pointedly ignored. Skimming the words, he took a few minutes to gather his thoughts before looking back towards Elissa. "You cannot expect us to take your word," he gave the sheets a small shake as he spoke, "without providing evidence to support it."

"Where is your mage?"

"We have none with us," Torih muttered.

Despite herself, she whirled round to face the elf and found some satisfaction in being able to subject him to her own disbelieving stare. "You travelled without any mages? Not even a healer?"

Torih squared up to her. "Yes. Healers have no place at the forefront of battle."

The response hung in the air between them while she absorbed the implication. Healers were a resource useful only to those who did not believe they faced an inevitable defeat. They had had no confidence in either her or Alistair and their skill as Grey Wardens. More than that, they had had no conviction in their own abilities.

"Then it seems you have to trust that what I have told you is true," she stated flatly.

"Simply because you do not wish us to talk with your Circle mages does not mean that we cannot," Torih sneered.

"Do it and I'll deny everything."

"Enough," Argarth interrupted before the argument could escalate fully. He returned the sheets of vellum to the safe keeping of Korgik and signalled that Torih was to return to his position near the door. "This gets us nowhere."

The elf made to protest but was chastened into silence by a well-timed growl from Argarth.

"Continue with your report, Warden," the dwarf focused once more on Elissa. "We will return to this detail in time."

Having travelled through the numerous streets and districts of the city, Alistair had drawn varying levels of attentions from those they passed. But the trio and small group of guards were at last standing outside the city walls where Alistair had been confronted by the body of Shale which still lay where she had fallen after being besieged by the Horde.

With a hesitant step, Alistair circled the remains before shooting a puzzled look at Zevran who stood on the opposite side. "Why have you left her here?"

"We did not know what else to do."

Alistair grimaced at the unwelcome practicality of the elf's statement. Addressing the top of Oghren's head which was all he could see across the mass of stone, he asked, "how do the dwarves dispose of fallen golems?"

He heard an incredulous snort from the dwarf. "Can't imagine it was much of an issue. Especially in the Deep Roads."

"Could another soul be caught within the stone?"

"Depends how badly damaged it is, I suppose," Oghren came into full view as Alistair moved to rejoin his friends. "Seems pretty bad if she didn't survive."

"True."

The heavy sigh which accompanied the acknowledgement was borne from distaste at the manner in which they were discussing the remains of a companion, as bad tempered as Shale had been. He could not simply leave what would come to be seen as only a random pile of rubble at the entrance of the city. She deserved to be honoured with the same reverence he imagined had already been paid to Riordan and Wynne.

Sensing that Alistair was at a loss, Zevran offered an observation. "Bhelen my appreciate the gesture of the body being returned to Orzammar."

Oghren rolled his eyes with a grunt but made no further comment. It seemed that the dwarf had absolved himself of all responsibility with regards to the fate of the golem.

"Whatever is decided will require moving her," Alistair said at last. "Have her put on a wagon or something and more her to a warehouse. And no, I don't know how you should do that."

"Perhaps the mages can assist," Zevran nodded. "Regardless, I will see that it is done."

A surge of sentimentality for the caustic lump of stone pushed its way through the practicalities Alistair was trying to negotiate. "Make sure it's today. She would hate to be left where the birds can rest on her."

The elf nodded and took the order to be the last word on the matter. He moved past the remains and headed along the base of the city walls to the point where they stood at a distinct angle to the main road leading from the city. Numerous pyres which still smouldered were constructed in neat lines some distance from the walls but it seemed that the vast number had at least served a purpose in that there appeared to be no more bodies to be added.

Zevran continued to a spot which was visible from the road but set back from it to prevent careless feet treading across what was intended as a memorial rather than simply a burial site. To Alistair's surprise, two small cairns marked the exact place although the still blackened ground indicated that a pyre had been allowed to burn out before the stones had been collected. To mark graves in this way seemed very much against what he had come to expect from either Zevran or Oghren but inappropriate and caustic as both of them could be, they each understood the importance of honouring those who held great importance even if it was in a manner which held no significance to them.

Similarly to the marketplace, the guards sensed the mood of their King and dropped back a few steps to allow him as much privacy as could be permitted without dereliction of duty. This time he made no effort to correct them.

Zevran spoke first, his voice quiet but otherwise unaffected by his surroundings. "There are a handful of elemental mages from the Circle. The Templars agreed to them helping the fires burn hot enough so that the cairns could be constructed as quickly as possible."

Alistair nodded distractedly. He found that he was at peace with Riordan's passing as much as he might wish that it had been avoidable. Wynne, however, was more difficult.

He had always had an easy relationship with Wynne, at least until Elissa had left. He could believe that the mage had not spoken with any malice during their journey to and from Redcliffe but it seemed as though each remark she had made had been yet another judgement. And he regretted that it was those harsh words they had had for each other which now tinged his memory of her. She deserved more than that.

His hand reached out and brushed across one of the rocks as though touching it was an equivalent to communicating directly with her. "My weakness, was she."

The words came from nowhere and he flinched as he heard the hint of spite which coloured the tone. Whether he expected the sky to crack or the wind to howl in protest at the callousness which seeped through, he was unsure but the indifferent silence that followed was in itself difficult to bear.

He hastily added a murmured "thank you" in an attempt to negate the previous sentiment. The world around him remained unmoved but he felt a calm descend over him. He would find the words eventually. And when he did then he would come back. Until then, the cairns would remain as a reminder of his overdue duty.

With a deliberate movement, Alistair turned his back on the spot and cleared his throat.

"Show me where the Dalish are staying."

Neither the Commander nor his Second had heard cause to interrupt her as she completed her report of the events which had followed after her healing and she had come to an abrupt halt after recounting the vague sensations she could recall from the final blow.

"And this is all?" Argarth pressed.

From her reclaimed position on the bed, Elissa nodded. "After that I woke up here, in this room. With Alistair. And that's it."

"I see," the dwarven Warden-Commander sighed. "There is much to this which I need to reflect on, Warden."

"I can understand that."

"Then you will permit us to speak with you further tomorrow?"

"Of course."

With a small gesture towards Korgik, Argarth indicated that the dwarf should tidy away his materials. Torih straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall and while a scowl had formed across his face, he made no attempt to argue with the decision of his Commander.

Elissa remained where she sat with her arms circled around her knees which she had drawn up against her chest. Her head dropped so that it rested against her knees and she made no effort to engage the Wardens in further conversation and the few minutes it took for Korgik to adequately dry the ink on the most recent piece of vellum passed in a terse silence.

It surprised her that Argarth had admitted so freely to his wish to take time to absorb more fully the extent of what she had revealed. Yet she knew better than to take the dwarf for a fool. Perhaps the request for a postponement was evidence of her success in diverting their focus from the truth.

She knew what they were looking for; an explanation for her survival. And the implication that she retained some form of lingering connection to either the Spirit or even the Fade itself was a welcome alternative to the product of the ritual performed with Morrigan. Yet while such an event provided an answer for the Grey Wardens, it prompted more questions in her own mind. Dark questions that she had not considered and now found were swirling through her thoughts.

Somehow Wynne had summoned the healing properties of the Spirit into her broken body and in doing so had sacrificed herself. That much she knew was true. But what other truths might she have unwittingly chanced upon by focusing the Warden's attention on the actions of the mage?

The haze of her thoughts began to form into something more frighteningly cohesive and her arms loosened around her knees so that her hand could massage the point where the grinding pain of the fracture had been.

Raising her head, she found that Torih had focused on the small movement of her fingers and was watching her through narrowed eyes.

"An old injury," she offered in curt explanation.

Hearing the tone of her voice and anticipating another clash of words between the pair, Argarth gestured to Torih that he was to leave before assisting Korgik by accepting the now rolled sheets of vellum while the scholar gathered up his writing tools.

"I will send for you when I am ready to talk further," Argarth remarked as Korgik passed behind him en-route to the now open doorway.

Elissa had no wish to reveal her own weaknesses even if Argarth had the confidence to accept his and she made no reference to the difficulty such a summons would cause. Instead she only offered another nod.

"Until then, Warden."

With that, she was left on her own. Though she could not help but wonder just how alone she truly was. Her fingers, which had stilled under Torih's scrutiny, moved again as she made a futile attempt to ascertain the full extent of healing which her leg had undergone.

The need for the healing on the rooftop of Fort Drakon suggested that there was nothing untoward within her and that the lingering properties of Wynne's spell were not sufficient to heal of its own accord. Surrounded as she had been by mages and Templars with her body once again flooded with healing magic, she would have expected that any remnants of the Spirit or connection to the Fade would have been discovered.

And yet.

Simply because her physical injuries had required further attention did not mean that there were not deeper repercussions from Wynne's actions. What proof did she have that it had been Morrigan's ritual over Wynne's healing which had protected her in the end? She did not doubt Morrigan but neither could she shake the gnawing doubt that perhaps it had been the Spirit who had shielded her soul and forced the dark evil from her body.

The doubt revealed a darker truth which existed behind the possibility and she winced as her own fingers dug into the flesh of her leg. The thought that the Spirit had in some way protected her could not account for the defeat of the Archdemon. Magic could not penetrate walls and Morrigan had lain deep with the Fort. How was it that the tainted soul of the demon had not sought out a suitable host among any of the darkspawn who remained throughout the city?

That the demon had not spawned again seemed evidence that it had not left her body but it offered no reassurance that it had in fact been destroyed. Yet Riordan had insisted that two souls could not occupy the same body. Was a Spirit a soul though? The existence of Wynne, sustained by but independent of the Spirit, would seem to suggest that it was not. At least, she didn't think so.

But she was not a mage and she had little understanding of these things. If the Spirit was not a soul but the demon's soul had not been driven from her than had the Spirit somehow consumed the tainted evil and she was now some form of abomination? Her skills as a rogue suggested some affinity with magic albeit not enough to warrant concern from the Chantry but perhaps it was enough to permit a demon to exist within her.

And surely it was inevitable that the Spirit would be corrupted by the tainted essence of the demon. More than that, she had suffered from so many dark thoughts since Wynne had revived her. Did her thoughts, coupled with the intention of the demon, affect the Spirit? Was that what a Fade demon was? A corrupted spirit which had been irreversibly contaminated by the weak minds of those who walked through the Fade?

A chill crept into her heart and chased the warmth from her body. She had witnessed so much and yet the fear with which the Chantry regarded mages proved itself dominant in her mind. If she was now possessed by some corrupted Spirit, something now akin to a Fade demon, then how certain could she be that this was not some fabrication of reality?

In a desperate attempt to make sense of the questions overwhelming her, she found that her mind flew to the only explanation which could account for all the contrasting possibilities.

She was trapped in the Fade.

A whimper escaped from between her clenched teeth. How else to explain all that had happened: her rescue, her recovery, her victory? Something had to be watching over her and guiding the world around her. Something which took pleasure in watching her suffering while it orchestrated the events of her life.

Her diminishing capacity for rationality made one last defence against the assertion and she found herself stumbling to her feet. She lurched towards the door and fumbled at the latch. Desperation to find someone, anyone, who could help her regain her composure helped to obscure the fear she had previously felt at the thought of leaving her room.

Fumbling her way down the empty corridor, the act of moving meant that she was able to focus on the number of steps it would take to reach the sanctuary offered in Leliana's company rather than the downward spiralling thoughts that were crowding into her head. Reaching the wooden door, she fell against it while scrambling at the handle in an attempt to open it. Miraculously the two actions collided together and as the door swung open, she was forced to catch herself against the inner wall before she fell to the floor.

"Elissa!"

Leliana let out a stifled shriek at the entrance but before the young Warden could attempt to gather herself to answer, Liahn was already at her side.

"Come," the mage soothed as she supported the woman's weight. "Come sit."

Distracted from her panic by the physical touch from the mage, Elissa allowed herself to be guided towards the bed. Leliana had already shuffled as far over as was possible and as Liahn manoeuvred Elissa down, the Bard wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders.

"What has happened, dear one?"