Their preparations of Elissa's armour and weapons complete, Alistair and Zevran had parted ways; the elf heading towards the kitchens while Alistair was left to wander the hallways without any firm purpose, relying on fragments of childhood memories to keep him away from the more populated parts of the estate. He knew the midday meal was likely being served but he did not feel hungry—or so he kept telling his growling stomach.

His wandering, directed by the appearance here and there of a maid or guard, finally brought him to one of the servant entrances. As he pushed the door open, he gave a wry snort. Instinct or habit had brought him out near the kennels. He might not have spent much time here as opposed to Redcliffe but apparently it had been sufficient for him to know how to escape.

Alistair slipped out the doorway, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the day in comparison with the gloom of the servant passageways, and continued across to the kennel runs, his boots squelching in the mud. There seemed little else to do: thinking about Elissa hurt too much and he had no interest in seeking out Eamon just yet. Despite all the Arl had done, Alistair knew he still needed the man. He had no idea how to rule. And while there remained the other Arls and Arlessa's, he knew none well enough to entirely trust to their judgement in the same way he could—or he had thought he could—trust to Eamon. The seed of doubt planted in his mind by the Arl's recent action forced Alistair to turn his thoughts towards potential exceptions. Fergus Cousland immediately sprang to mind, despite his never having met the man. A powerful Teryn in his own right, not to mention the brother of the Hero of Ferelden, Fergus would be an ideal counter to Eamon. Yet all hopes of his survival were entirely pinned on the tattered letter Elissa had received; with each passing day, it seemed less and less likely that the contents could be believed.

Raising a hand to his forehead, Alistair squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to ease the building pressure. He was beginning to believe that it was too much to hope that anything might go right, let alone something which might directly benefit him.

Before he could indulge in wallowing however, a low whine distracted him from his thoughts and he cracked open one eye, squinting in the direction of the pitiful cry. In the far run of the kennels, nearest the stable outbuildings, two little paws rested against the edge of the wall as a pair of soulful eyes peered through the wooden fencing and across at him.

"Hello, again."

The Mabari pup whimpered and disappeared from sight behind the wall, evidently tired of propping herself up on her hind legs.

Alistair moved closer to the run and rested his forearms against the fence as he studied the little creature lying on her stomach with her head resting between her front legs. She was whimpering to herself though she granted him the courtesy of a fleeting look as an acknowledgement of his presence.

"You're safer in there," he informed her.

The pup stopped whimpering only long enough to greet the remark with a deep sigh.

A small smile played at the corner of his mouth as he rested his chin against his arms and studied her. From the remnants of scraps in her bowl, he assumed that she had at least been weaned before being separated from her mother and littermates. Certainly, her weight when he had picked her up a day or so ago had not indicated that she was especially malnourished and the texture of her coat, a pretty rowan colour, suggested that whatever else she was, she was in reasonable health.

"I know you don't want to be here, but I can't just let you go."

The pup lifted her head, brown eyes fixed on him while her nose quivered, sniffing him out. He must have passed some test because she clambered to her feet. Trotting across, she dropped onto her haunches directly below where he stood, and tilted her head up so that she could fix a mournful stare on him.

Alistair shook his head. "That's not going to work."

Her chest expanded briefly before a small whine began to rise from it, eyes impossibly wide.

"I mean it," he insisted, but hearing the waver in his voice, he forced himself to cough in a feeble attempt to hide it. "It's not going to work."

She dropped her head low and let out another whine.

He groaned, cursing his bleeding heart, and moved to unfasten the latch on the gate, intent that he would spend a little time with her in the hopes that some company would encourage her to settle.

All of a sudden, the little creature gave a start and began to growl. He darted a glance towards her but the pup wasn't paying him any attention. Instead, she was propped up on the wall and peering through the fence at something behind him. Turning his head, Alistair discovered Liahn hovering in the doorway of the outbuilding, eyeing the dog in much the same way he had eyed his first darkspawn.

"Liahn," he straightened, making sure to replace the latch behind him. "She's only a pup and she can't get out, don't worry."

Emboldened by his reassurance, the mage took a tentative step closer but the movement prompted a short bark from the Mabari and the woman stopped dead in her tracks.

Chiding the pup with a low tut, Alistair turned his back on the creature and joined Liahn in the doorway of the outbuilding. "Did you need me?"

The mage shook her head, retracing her steps so that they were looking over the main courtyard between the main gates and main door of the estate. "The servants told me where you were." Her gaze dropped to her feet. "I wish to apologise. I did not realise... Elissa, is she well? She left so abruptly..."

"Left?" he interrupted, a wave of panic washing over him. "But they were due to leave tomorrow, not today."

Raising her head, a faint frown drew Liahn's brows together. "They?"

Alistair stared at the mage, perplexed by her obvious confusion. "Maybe you'd better just tell me what you meant."

"I did not realise that the Arl had acted without either of your knowledge. When I informed Elissa about the Arl's visits to the Chantry and his discussions regarding the coronation..."

He held up a hand. "Informed her?"

"Not like that," Liahn paled at the implication that she had deliberately stirred up trouble for the Hero and King. "We were speaking..."

"Speaking?" He was aware that he sounded ridiculous but after everything he and Elissa had discussed regarding mages, the Fade and templars, the discovery that Liahn and Elissa had time to speak was not a welcome one. "When?" Something clicked at the back of his mind. "You're the reason she came to find me."

"I assume so," the mage nodded. "When I mentioned that there had been no word of the betrothal, she fled her room."

Alistair gave a short nod, distracted by another detail. "Her room?"

"Yes." She straightened her shoulders and glanced down at her robes, smoothing out an invisible crease with her hand as she added primly, "I wished to check on the welfare of the Warden. She is still recovering from the battle, as much as the physical wounds have been healed." As though reminded of the event—as if anyone could have forgotten it, he thought churlishly—her hand stilled and Liahn turned an appraising eye over the man in front of her. "As are you."

"I'm fine," he muttered, unwilling to change the topic. "When I saw you with Zevran this morning, you both went into Leliana's room. Why would you suddenly want to check on Elissa?"

"It is difficult to keep track of her."

"She's either been in her room or with Leliana since she woke up. What's so difficult to track about that?" Alistair eyed the mage, suspicions gathering in his head. "Did she come and see Leliana?"

Liahn pursed her lips, as though recalling such a trivial detail was beneath her. It was a charade he recognised all too well, however, and he knew how to read the signs of someone playing for time as they attempted to weigh up just what to say. After a few minutes of strained silence, during which Alistair made sure to keep the mage under direct scrutiny, Liahn eventually gave a bad-tempered sigh. "I told you; I simply wished to check on her. Leliana had no bearing on that."

He was about to retort when the arrival of one of the Dalish elves distracted him. A young man, sure-footed and with chin held high, moved through the main courtyard accompanied by two of the Arl's guards. The presence of the Dalish within the city walls, let alone the Guerrin estate, was one for comment and Alistair called to the trio, stepping out from the shadows of the outbuildings.

At the shout, the guards turned to look in his direction and when Alistair gestured that he wished to speak with them, they grabbed at the elf and manhandled him in the direction of King and mage.

"Let him go," Alistair hastily intervened, watching as the elf's expression darkened and his body stiffened at the treatment.

The guards exchanged a look with one another but obediently dropped their hands from the shoulders of the Dalish hunter and offered their respect to Alistair with a brief bowing of their heads.

"Your Majesty," one of the guards began, "this messenger claims..."

"I make no claims," the elf interjected coldly before addressing Alistair directly. "I was sent by the Keeper. She requests the provisions that were promised to us."

Alistair swore under his breath but catching the affronted expression on the Dalish, he hurriedly pardoned himself. "No, I didn't mean... I forgot, and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry..." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the small movement as Liahn began to inch away from him and he tore his attention from the elf towards the mage. "Liahn, wait..."

"I must return to the Chantry."

"Do you wish the Arl to deal with this request, Your Majesty?" the second guard voiced, gesturing with his head towards the elf.

"No, just give me a minu..." Alistair began, turning to look at the trio before swinging back to the mage. "Liahn!"

So much for the power and prestige of kingship when no one would actually listen to a word he said.

"I will see to this, Alistair." From behind him, Zevran emerged from shadows of the outbuilding. Maker knew how long the assassin had stood there, but at this moment Alistair was willing to concede that the elf was Maker-sent. "Rest assured, I will convey your sincerest apologies to the Keeper for the delay."

"You'll do that, Zev?"

"Of course, my friend; you have enough to contend with." The Antivan turned his head to address Liahn. "And you, my dear. I will escort you back to the Chantry in case the templars are displeased at your tardiness."

Surprisingly, the mage calmed and gave a single nod of acknowledgement towards Zevran. With the situation apparently in hand, Alistair signalled that the guards were dismissed before rounding on Liahn. "Fine, but I want to know what happened this morning. Between you and Elissa."

Zevran cleared his throat. "It is complicated, Alistair." As though to emphasise the point, he spared a brief glance towards their Dalish companion. "Perhaps it is best if you speak with Leliana, yes?"

"You're involved too?" Alistair growled. "It sounds as though I'd be better off speaking with Elissa."

"This may be true but I do not think it is likely that you will be permitted to," Zevran remarked as he indicated with his hand that both mage and Dalish were to begin walking towards the main gates. He hung back for a moment so that he could speak to the man freely. "But should you wish to try, the Wardens are making use of the Arl's library."

"Why don't you just tell me?"

"Alistair," a wry smile surfaced on the elf's face. "I am acquainted with only as much as my Warden wished me to know, but I am not so foolish as to believe that there is nothing else to it. You must speak with her."

"Even if Torih would let me speak to her, she doesn't want to speak with me."

"Then be content not to know," the elf shrugged, moving away from Alistair with a light step. "Regardless, I will see to these matters on your behalf."

Maps, new and old, were scattered across the tables in the library. Both Argarth and Torih pored over the documents, occasionally exchanging a remark about some detail. Elissa and one of the human men—Damon, she thought she remembered his name as—stood stiffly to one side, waiting for a word from their respective Commanders.

The others—two men and the dwarven scribe, Korgik—had been sent to discover what equipment lay in an old forgotten cache somewhere in the city, once Torih had established that Elissa had no knowledge of such a place. The revelation had been greeted with a curt observation that she may have been better informed had she focused more on what Riordan had said rather than on her own concerns.

Torih had then demanded that she recount all she could remember from her brief visit to the ancient Tevinter ruin but anything she could recall was all too vague to satisfy her Commander's curiosity. All she knew of Ostagar were the two—or was it three?—days she had spent there. The closest she had been to the ruin since her Joining was when she had returned to the Korcari Wilds in order to obtain Flemeth's grimoire. The dank mist which seeped through the forest had been thick with the stench of decay and her skin had burned as the taint flowing in her blood responded to the call drifting on the wind. She and Alistair had exchanged one look before ordering their companions back to the small camp Morrigan had made for herself on the edge of the Wilds while the two Wardens pressed on, protected by their immunity. Securing the grimoire had been more negotiation than confrontation as a result, but Morrigan had seemed satisfied when presented with the book and nothing further was said. The next day, no one had objected when Elissa had set a punishing pace so that Ostagar was left far behind them.

Sensing that the already strained tolerance between the new Commander and his Second was reaching its limits, Argarth had intervened in Torih's questioning and suggested that Elissa should stand by Damon while she reflected on what little details she could remember. She had accepted the opportunity to retreat into herself without protest, taking her position beside the other Warden without sparing a glance for him, while Argarth and Torih returned their attention to studying the information contained in the various maps.

But standing and watching held its own dangers. Offered a respite from having to control her expression and reactions under the ever watchful gaze of the elf, Elissa found her mind wandering towards all that had happened in the space of a few hours.

The betrothal was broken; of that, she was certain and with the admission, a stinging heat stole across her cheeks. She had been cast aside and it did not seem to matter the reason why.

Her hand crept to her chest and her fingers grazed at the vial through the fabric of her shirt. She wanted to be Queen, she realised. A thought never fully acknowledged but one that had existed nevertheless; it had seemed a fitting response to the treachery inflicted on her family. Proof that she would not be defined by what had happened: she would rise above it and show why the Cousland family had been revered. She had thought she was the last of her house and she had been determined that she would not be found wanting.

Realising that ambition had been aided by the encounter with Goldanna. The meeting with his sister—Elissa briefly wondered what fate had befallen the woman—had seemed a positive step for Alistair, for all the pain it had caused him. From then on, he had become more vocal and she had allowed his newfound self-confidence to sustain her own determination. His previous protestations about the Crown had been quietly but gratefully forgotten and it was only when she had caught his look of astonishment at her announcement of their betrothal at the Landsmeet that she had fully understood her own motivations. Riordan's disclosure, swiftly followed by Morrigan's offer, had only seemed to emphasise the extent to which Alistair served as a means through which she could achieve her own ambitions. The rest... Well, the rest was yet to be seen. It had brought her here, to this point, and raking over the ashes now would offer no respite.

Except. Her fingers tightened around the vial and she smiled. She could hear the word echoing around her head, spoken in his voice, and accompanied with the image of Alistair rolling his eyes as he waited for her to finish making some counter-argument to an already longwinded point.

But the realisation that a smart-arsed reply would never come chased the smile from her face and her hand dropped from the vial back down to her side. She could take solace from the hard-won knowledge that however else she had intended to use the truth about Alistair's birthright, the details were coincidental rather than influential to how she felt about him. Yet that did not change the fact that there was no except to the current situation. How could there be? Even if there was a way to circumvent Eamon and the Wardens, her last words to him had been full of spite and anger, and while she comforted herself with the fact that it would have taken a genuine Hero to rise above such behaviour, it did nothing to alleviate the knowledge that she had been wrong to speak to him in that way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of the door hinge and all four Wardens turned their heads in the direction of the sound. Alistair hovered in the doorway. The unexpectedness of his arrival took her by surprise. The taints of the three Orlesian Wardens, distinct and separate from one another, still scratched at the back of her head and she could only assume that the ring of his taint from the blood in the vial had interfered with her ability to sense his physical proximity to her. Looking between the two Commanders seated at the table, he was clearly contemplating his next move though the fleeting glance he shot in her direction confirmed that she was the reason for his visit.

"I need to speak with..." As his voice faltered, her breath caught in her throat, willing him to say her name. Not her title; her name.

Oblivious to her desires, Argarth interrupted as he anticipated the request. "I do not believe that is advisable, Your Majesty."

At that, Alistair did turn to her, and an ill-concealed flash of anger provided her with sufficient warning for what was to come. "It's about Leliana."

She bit at her lip, searching his face for some further clue as to how much he knew. She had to tread carefully; she had no intention of lying to him but the Wardens could not know that Liahn had discovered the truth about Wynne and the Spirit of Healing. If they did, it would provide them with a perfect opportunity to interrogate the mage further about the connection Wynne had with the Fade. She imagined that Liahn would likely grasp at the ulterior motive to the Wardens' questions, but it was by no means certain. Besides, the sooner the Wardens uncovered the truth—it would only require asking a non-Circle mage, after all—the greater the danger posed to Morrigan, and that simply could not be allowed to happen.

"Please, Commander," she looked back to the dwarf, summoning her voice at last, "it involves the welfare of one of my closest friends. Please, let him speak with me."

Torih narrowed his eyes, rising to his feet. "Clearly you know something he does not. What have you done, Cousland?"

"I have made arrangements that Leliana will accompany Liahn back to Kinloch Hold for further healing."

"What have you done?" Behind her, Alistair echoed the elf's question through gritted teeth. "We agreed the templars could not be told the truth about Wynne!"

"Told?" Argarth queried.

"Is it so unexpected that our companions also knew about Wynne's... condition?" she retorted.

"You were adamant that we could not speak with the mage and yet you are prepared to allow your Bard to inform the templars of your companion's connection to the Fade?" Torih took a step towards her. "Explain this, Cousland."

"Leliana is concerned that something like this could happen again, with a mage who is not as disciplined as Wynne or with a spirit that is not so benevolent. Leliana has a great deal of loyalty to the Chantry for past kindnesses," she explained hurriedly, hoping her mind would keep one step ahead. "But she won't inform the templars. At least, not immediately. She agreed she would wait and assess the situation herself. She promised me." Elissa spun on her foot so that she could face Alistair. She had to make him understand why she could be so certain that Leliana posed no threat to the Circle. Lowering her voice, she hoped that he would listen to her next comment rather than only hear it. "The balance is not as one-sided as you think."

His eyes widened, a flicker of horror surfacing on his face as he caught the full implication of her remark: Liahn already knew the truth. His jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth, biting back a comment which likely would have threatened to expose them all.

She bristled at his unvoiced accusation. "She's my friend! And I thought she was your friend, too. Or do you wish her to be disfigured and bedridden for the rest of her life?"

"That's not fair," he growled.

"She needs the Circle. This was the only way to ensure she was able to go."

"You place a great deal of trust in your companions, Cousland." Torih remarked coldly, preventing Alistair from retorting.

Resisting turning around, Elissa dropped her head as she murmured, "what else could I do?" From beneath her eyelashes, she shot a pleading look towards Alistair, appealing to his sense of compassion. "What would you have done?"

He only stared at her, though his expression was mercifully blank rather than filled with the judgement she probably deserved.

"It was my decision to make," she added, quietly. "You weren't able to, but I was. It's done."

Clearing his throat, Argarth brought the visit to its conclusion. "You have your answer, Your Majesty. This matter would seem to be at an end."

"So it would seem," Alistair conceded flatly, and the stare he levelled at her chilled her through and through. "My apologies for disturbing you."

Before anyone could respond, he vanished from the doorway and the dull thud of the door against the frame marked his departure.

Choosing to focus on Leliana rather than Alistair, Elissa had a sudden pang that the promise she had made to visit the Bard had been broken with no explanation as to why.

"I need to say goodbye to Leliana," she blurted out, looking over her shoulder to Torih.

The elf fixed a steely gaze on her as he pursed his lips. The small glance he shot at Argarth revealed that the presence of the dwarf was tempering his response somewhat.

Elissa gestured at the maps. "Whatever you decide, we're leaving at daybreak, aren't we? I need to do it now."

"No."

"I've already given up my betrothed for you," she spat, spinning around as she allowed her humiliation to fuel the spite in her voice. "I won't give up my friend."

The elven Commander bowed his head, fists balled at his side, as he struggled to contain his temper. After a long silence, he spoke quietly. "Very well." The tension flooded out from his body and he looked up to reveal a thin smile twisted across his face. "The vial for your visit."

Elissa stiffened. "You said I could keep it."

"And you may," he kept his tone even. "That is, if you do not wish to say goodbye to your friend."

Her tongue ran across her lower lip.

"Come now, Cousland, you have not hesitated to make decisions in the past" he mocked, all the more potent for the enticing softness to his voice which suggested that there was really no decision to be made at all. "Why begin now?"

Elissa allowed her eyelids to flutter close as she struggled with the surge of emotions vying for her attention. Swallowing, she returned to her previous position at the side of the room and dropped her head so that she only had to focus on the floor at her feet. After a few moments, the scuff of boots indicated that the two Commanders were also returning to their seats.

She gave no indication that she had noticed and instead focused on one resolution: one of these days, she was going to remember how to do something right.

Alistair managed to keep his composure for all of a few minutes before he ground to an abrupt halt in a deserted hallway and threw a clenched fist against the stone wall. The sharp explosion of pain across his knuckles only added to the clogging sensation constricting his chest however and he sagged against the wall, forehead resting against the cool stone, as he opted for a long exhale instead.

He had no idea where to go from here. He supposed that he should visit with Leliana but the thought of dodging around what he should and should not know was too much. This was not his area of expertise; not when he was at his most level-headed, and especially not right now.

A growl of frustration seeped out from somewhere deep inside, and the pressure eased a little. This was her mess; let Elissa clean it up, damn it. The rational part of him argued that she had clearly intended to do just that, had Eamon's plotting not interfered with their future plans, but as it stood, navigating through this particular muddle was now left entirely to his discretion. In which case, he could only question what had possessed Elissa to tell him. Why, after everything else she had kept from him, had she decided that this was the time and place to entrust him with such a dangerous truth?

Maker, they had killed Connor for being possessed. True, that had been a demon and they were yet to visit the Circle, or meet Wynne and understand that more than demons could communicate with those in contact with the Fade. But to reveal to a Circle mage that Wynne, a Senior Enchanter, had owed her continued existence to a Spirit as a means of counteracting the possibility that Leliana might inform the templars of the very same truth... His head spun.

On which side did he fall? His time in the Chantry no longer held many ties for him; as much as he had wanted to continue honing his templar-based skills, the presence of Morrigan had led Elissa to discourage any attempts to do so. Yet he ruled in the Maker's name; to turn a blind eye to an act which surely undermined the very word of the Maker had to be a sin in itself, even if nothing ever came from it. But that, he knew, was wishful thinking. Whatever else he was unsure of, he could be confident in the fact that it was only a matter of time before the tensions between Chantry and Circle would boil over. And as much as he might console himself with the fact that, even as King, he held no sway to influence such events, he still could not shy away from the fact that the effects would be felt throughout Thedas, let alone Ferelden.

But since that was the case, then perhaps he could look past the madness which seemed to have influenced Elissa's decision. After all, her revelation to Liahn had only confirmed what the mage had already suspected. Maybe confiding in Liahn would prove to be the most astute judgment Elissa had ever made. He had to trust to her reasoning, even if he was unable to see it himself. There was nothing else to be done. Not now. As much as inaction made him uneasy, it was preferable to the overreaction of the Chantry. In the meantime, he might...

"Your Majesty."

Interrupted mid-thought, Alistair froze as he recognised the voice. Granting himself a few moments to clear his head, he slowly straightened, dropping his arms to his side and rolling his shoulders, before turning to Eamon with what he hoped was a blank expression.

"There is much to be done."

For Alistair at least, the sentence was unfinished. But as he eyed the man, waiting for what was to follow, it became clear that the Arl regarded the events of the morning to be at an end and had no intention of adding to his remark.

"That's all you have to say?" he eventually challenged the older man.

"What would you have me say, Alistair?"

He almost laughed. There was a simplicity to the question which could only be admired. Of course; what could the Arl say? There was nothing to be said.

"Then if I may," Eamon acknowledged the silence and chose to move past it. "Let us meet with the nobility who remain. Informally, of course, but it will reassure them that things are in hand. We must continue to establish order amongst this chaos."

Running his hand through his hair, Alistair briefly wondered what Eamon might make of the potential chaos which threatened to run through the Circle. Was there a meeting which could prevent that?

"Eamon," he said slowly, gathering his thoughts, "things aren't going to continue like they have."

"If you do not like my solutions, do not seek my assistance."

Alistair reined in his temper, allowing a deep breath to escape through his nose. "Maybe I won't."

It was a bluff on the part of the younger man, but Alistair was rewarded by the appearance of a small frown on the Arl's face as he reflected on the possible insinuations. A moment later, the clearing of Eamon's expression revealed that he had realised the words had simply been a ruse. Still, Alistair felt a pang of bitter satisfaction that he had succeeded in worrying the older man.

"Come on," he sighed, gesturing that the Arl was to lead. "Best not keep the nobility waiting. They might decide they want someone else as King otherwise."

This chapter required a lot of editing – continued thanks to EasternViolet for her hard work (and tact!).

Angst getting too much? Inspired by a request for happier times from FenZev, there is now a collection of one-shots which follows Elissa and Alistair during their journey across Ferelden as they fight the Blight. Angst is strictly forbidden. The collection is entitled "Early Days" and I'll add to it over time - have a look via my profile.