A rough shake awoke Elissa the next morning. Her fingers bunched into a fist as she prepared to defend herself, before recognising the strange man who jumped back from her, his hands held in sign of surrender. It was Ithyal, the youngest of the Orlesian Wardens. Mumbling an apology, she shot Torih a dirty look as she caught his snigger at her overreaction.

It had become clear during the previous afternoon and evening that the elven Commander had no intention of allowing Elissa out of his sight, especially after she had voiced her desire to visit with Leliana. She had hoped that Zevran might interrupt their planning—his delight in antagonising Torih was undeniable—but the Antivan evidently had other concerns to attend to, most likely the audience that Eamon had arranged between the nobility and their new King. A tantalising snatch of gossip between two guards had informed her of the gathering, and Elissa found herself straining to listen whenever voices passed by the library door in the hopes of discovering some new detail. None was forthcoming though, and as time wore on she had to content herself with the idea that the absence of news was likely to be encouraging.

An undeserved swell of pride had risen in her at the thought of Alistair holding his own amongst those who had once thought themselves to be his betters. But her pleasure was short-lived as she was forced to bear the brunt of an indirect consequence to the meeting. Preoccupied with the nobility, no instructions with regards the altered sleeping arrangements of the Hero of Ferelden had been relayed by the Arl, and Elissa had been left to sleep on a bedroll, on the floor of the bedroom which Torih shared with Ithyal.

She had slept deeply however—no doubt a point of contention for her elven Commander—which helped to explain her response to the abrupt awakening. Now, as she blinked up at the young man, he silently pointed towards the bedside table to a bowl of water and a bundle of cloths waiting for her. Elissa fell back against her blankets with a smothered groan. Strip washes; she had hoped those days might have been behind her. On one of the beds, there was a stack of linen clothing suitable for wearing beneath her armour and she suddenly noticed that the two Orlesians were dressed in their own leathers.

"You let me sleep?"

"I did not imagine that you would wish to undress in front of us," Torih responded tersely.

Elisa held her tongue, grateful for the small gesture of consideration from the elf but aware if she dwelt on it that it would only irritate him.

"Be swift. There will be someone at the door should you need assistance with your armour," he gestured to the other bed where a heap of various pieces had been dumped having been fetched from the armoury.

Once left alone, she obeyed the command to be quick and disregarded the offer of help. She had made a point of sourcing pieces, or having pieces altered, so that it was possible for her to fasten them herself though her fumbling fingers spoke to how often she had done so.

Dressed at last, and with her blades sheathed, she rejoined Torih and Ithyal in the hallway. The trio made their way to the kitchens where a hearty breakfast had already been laid out for them. Despite her reluctance to be a part of the expedition, Elissa forced a good portion of the food down her throat. She had no wish to repeat the experience of chronic hunger which she and Alistair had had to endure on occasion, particularly at the beginning of their journey.

Shortly after the three sat down, Argarth arrived and some while after that, the remaining Wardens appeared, the two humans bleary-eyed even as Korgik seemed remarkably rested. At sight of the men, Argarth gave a derisive snort and Ithyal grinned, making some comment under his breath which earned him a clip from the shorter of the men—Gethin, she remembered. There was little conversation—something which suited Elissa, even if she had wanted to be in their company. Eventually they had eaten their fill, took their leave of the estate and reconvened, once their overlooked belongings had been recovered at the last minute, in the courtyard of the estate.

The sun was still low in the sky but there were already a sea of faces at the gates. As far as Elissa was aware, there had been no formal announcement of their departure but word had evidently still gotten out. It had been a welcome relief to discover that stepping into the outside had posed no significant trepidation considering how she had felt about the sanctuary of her room, although she still could not bear to look at the crowds. Instead, she turned back to the piles of supplies which had been left in one of the outside stores on the Arl's orders and watched as Torih and Damon distributed various items into packs. She was convinced that Eamon had offered the supplies as a means getting rid of her more quickly.

As their packs became fuller, Argarth spoke briefly with Ithyal which prompted the young Warden to stride off in the direction of the main door. With no chore to occupy her, although not surprising since Torih had yet to trust her to complete any task, regardless how menial, Elissa merely stood and watched the young man. Jogging up the steps, the arrows in his quiver bouncing as he did so, he spoke with one of the guards before disappearing into the estate. She guessed that Argarth had sent word that they were almost ready to depart and glanced over her shoulder towards the gates, her initial unease fast developing into panic at the thought of being surrounded by so many.

There was a slight movement of the gate as it swung inwards and she tensed, expecting the whole crowd to rush in, but only two figures emerged on the other side: Zevran and Oghren. Catching sight of her, they approached and she had to resist the urge to meet them halfway, knowing it would only aggravate Torih if she did so.

In spite of her restraint, she heard Torih growl at Gethin to continue with the packing before the elf strode past her to intercept the pair. Taking the opportunity to follow her Commander, as any diligent Second would, Elissa hurried after him.

"This is Warden business, Arainai. You are not welcome," the Commander grunted as the four came to a halt in the middle of the courtyard.

"It would appear they," Zevran nodded his head towards the gates and the ever-growing crowd, "believe otherwise, my friend. If you wish to leave the city then you will require an escort. The Arl's guards are already preparing."

Torih glanced towards the gate and she could sense the waves of simmering anger washing off of the elf, but he did not offer further argument and only snapped, "then speak with the guards. We have no need for you here."

Oghren grunted. "Don't give a nug's shit what you need. It's her we're here for."

A warm smile spread across Elissa's face at the unwavering loyalty of her old friends.

Any retort on the tip of Torih's tongue was cut off as the murmurs of the crowd swelled into a roar. A glance around the courtyard revealed that Eamon had stepped out of the main doors in the company of the King, as Ithyal returned to his comrades with his mission complete.

Torih swore under his breath, spinning on foot and pushing past her towards the small group of Wardens now lifting the packs onto their backs. Elissa remained rooted to the ground, her gaze darting across the crowds as the noise continued to rise to a clamour. Had Torih been so inclined, he may have accused her of being deliberately obstinate, but the truth of the matter was that while her head was telling her feet to move, her heart was beating far too loudly in her chest for her limbs to hear the command.

"We will be with you, Elissa," Zevran murmured, catching her eye. "Do not fear."

She was unable to find her voice but nodded instead, hoping that they would know the comfort their presence brought to her. With a slight stagger, she turned round to face the group of Wardens and in doing so, she couldn't help but notice that Alistair was watching the trio from the top of the staircase.

Any further opportunity to mull over of that particular detail was cut short by a pack being abruptly thrust into her hands. She glanced up at Damon—the man seemed to have taken up Torih's prior role as Argarth's Second—before her gaze settled on the pack and she weighed it up with a rueful sigh. It was lighter than she had expected, which only meant that their supplies would run out all the faster, leaving them to scrounge what they could from the blighted land as they neared Ostagar. This truly was a fool's errand.

The clamour of the crowd grew in volume again and, slinging the pack across her shoulder, Elissa looked towards the gates. The number of guards now standing nearby seemed to have doubled and it was clear that their escort was keen to be underway.

Whether diplomacy on Argarth's part or recognition that she was simply standing closest to the gates, the small cluster of Wardens made their way towards Elissa and gathered around her as they arranged themselves into a cohesive group. Argarth and Damon led at the front, Korgik and the other man flanked Ithyal, while Torih pulled up the rear with her. Zevran and Oghren took their place on either side of her flank, just visible out the corner of her eye.

A few moment of last minute fidgeting and then the group of Wardens began to move through the courtyard. Trusting to her feet, Elissa found herself propelled forward, through the gates of the estate and out into the market place. The din which surrounded them was incredible, greater than any shriek the Archdemon had given. She found that focusing on her feet was the only way she could harness the apprehension which was causing her blood to pound in her temples. That, and concentrating on the noise to her right, where Oghren's genial cursing towards various overenthusiastic members of the crowd prompted more than one grin to surface briefly on her face.

Through the city they continued, the crowd swelling and ebbing around them as they moved through the various districts towards the city gates. Once or twice, she worked up the nerve to raise her head and twist round to glance at either Zevran or Oghren, and she caught sight of some of the nobility, faces which formed a part of her childhood, following beside Eamon and Alistair at the back. She wondered whether they had been officially summoned or if, like the crowds, their attendance was a result of impromptu arrangements conveyed through word of mouth.

Approaching the city walls, Elissa glanced up to see the wooden gates, still damaged from the battle, pushed back so that their departure was not delayed for even a moment. A handful of guards, on patrol of the wall perimeter, peered over the edge as they watched the procession file under the arch of the gate and out onto the main thoroughfare in front of the city.

The landscape stretched far into the distance and the sight of it threatened to steal her breath away. The Dalish makeshift camp lay to one side but she ignored it—Maker, or Creators, forgive her—in favour of looking out towards the horizon as a means of steadying her head. She imagined that this was similar to how Oghren might have felt when he first set foot from Orzammar.

As the guards peeled away and the five Grey Wardens ahead of her carried on their way, Torih stopped dead in his tracks and turned to address her former companions. "Your task is completed. There is no need for you to accompany us further."

Elissa had stumbled to a stop a few steps beyond where Torih now stood but hearing the elf's dismissal, she retraced her steps and launched herself at Oghren. Wrapping her arms around the dwarf, she kissed his cheek and murmured a heartfelt thank you in his ear before straightening and making to catch hold of Zevran.

"I think not, my Warden." The assassin deftly side-stepped her outstretched hand even as he flashed a small grin. "We both know how our Alistair is prone to jealousy."

Oghren grumbled beneath his breath, evidently understanding the implied insult but not so especially bothered as to protest outright.

Elissa stared at the elf. "That doesn't matter anymore, Zev."

"Doesn't it?"

Overhearing the exchange, Torih suddenly took three long strides towards her, his hand digging into the flesh of her arm as he roughly pulled her back from the dwarf and assassin. "Move, Cousland."

Even as Elissa staggered back, her body twisting in conjunction with her feet so that she followed the direction in which Torih was dragging her, her neck craned behind her as she frowned at Zevran. His remark echoed round in her head and she tore her gaze away from him, searching Alistair out even before she was fully aware that she was doing it. There, amidst the Arls and Arlessas, beneath the arch of the city gateway, was a distant figure; too far to know if he was looking at her directly but she fancied his head was at least turned in her direction. The image seared into her mind; a backdrop for Maker only knew what torment she would spend the next weeks conjuring in her head.

Elissa glanced back at Zevran. The elf stood, his arms folded across his chest, watching the distance between them increase. As he caught her look, the corners of his eyes began to crease as he struggled to resist the knowing smile she could already see beginning to curve one side of his mouth.

She hesitated just long enough to return the smile before wrenching her arm from Torih's grasp and dodging between Zevran and Oghren. Wordlessly, the pair closed the gap between them and she was certain she heard Oghren grunt as her two friends purposefully entangled themselves with the elven Warden.

As chaos erupted, the crowds parted in front of her and her feet gathered speed. The shouts of the Wardens carried on the wind but the citizens of Denerim closed ranks behind, making it impossible for the Orlesians to catch up with her. Nearing the nobility, she found the guards looking to one another, unease written across their faces, as they silently debated with one another whether to challenge the Hero of Ferelden or not. Disregarding their internal conflict, her nimble feet carried her between them before they could decide how to react and she skidded to an undignified halt in front of the new King.

"I'm sorry."

It wasn't what she had expected to say and judging by the way his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, it wasn't what Alistair had expected her to say either.

"I know we have to do this. I know things won't change. I'm a Grey Warden and you're the King and that won't change, no matter what I say. I know." Elissa took a deep breath as her tongue became intent on making up for its previous inhibition. "Crown and Order have to be separate, but it doesn't mean that's what I want."

The revelation was greeted with fresh murmurs from the now hushed crowd. Whatever the explanation given for the dissolving of their betrothal, it appeared that Eamon had not seen fit to be entirely honest as to the exact reason. It was an opportunity to strike back at the Arl for his deception and Elissa raised her voice, taking a step or two back from Alistair even as she kept her eyes focused on him.

"Apparently it doesn't matter that together we defeated a Blight or that together we found allies in the dwarves and elves or that together we did all this for the good of Ferelden."

Alistair remained silent, watching her from behind a closed expression, but she took it to be a positive sign. Whatever else he thought of her, he was willing to see how this played out.

"I have to be a Grey Warden. And you have to be King. I know." The repetition of the point helped her to refocus her thoughts on what she had wanted to say rather than the grandstanding it had led to. She returned to where she had initially come to a stop in front of him, gaze still locked on his, and lowered her voice. "But I'll be damned if I let him," her arm shot out from her side and she thrust a finger in the direction of Eamon, "convince you, the nobility or anyone else that I don't care about you. Or—" to her dismay she was forced to pause as she struggled to swallow the lump which had sprung to her throat, "that leaving was easy."

"None of this was easy," he spoke at last, voice rough. "And it was never a question of what I feel for you."

Elissa blinked, unprepared for the intensity of the stare he now bored into her, before giving a weak nod. "I know that. Now." Unable to continue to meet his eye, she dropped her head and as she pushed the last words across her lips, the humiliation his remark had evoked in her sharpened her tone more than she would have liked. "I. Am. Sorry."

"You don't sound it, you know."

She tensed, her eyes still cast downwards, as she attempted to work out if the teasing note in his voice was wishful thinking or not. At a loss, however, she was forced to raise her head and search his face for some clue.

A crooked grin greeted her; it was a pale imitation of the full one which she had become accustomed to seeing on his face but it was enough to reassure her that he bore her no lasting malice.

Relief flooded through her at the discovery that, whatever else she had done, she had not burnt every bridge behind her.

"I meant what I said," she murmured. "I just needed you to know."

A pained expression crept over on his face.

"Alistair." She stepped to within inches of him, face upturned, intent that he not misunderstand the motivation for her behaviour. "I'm not looking for a declaration of eternal devotion." Her mouth crinkled into a misshapen smile. "We already did that, remember?"

He hesitated, but this time she allowed him the moment of respite rather than judging him for it. His gaze roamed across her face before he finally asked, "how did that go again?"

"Perfectly."

He accepted her lie with a wry snort. "Oh? Good."

"Really, it's an inconvenience I survived."

The awkwardness between them stretched out, threatening to escalate, when a chuckle finally rose from Alistair's chest and encouraged Elissa to let loose her own spluttering giggle. Their amusement ricocheted off one another and developed into shared warm laughter.

The moment was short-lived, however. The sound of snarls and indignant protests from the crowd at her back began to filter into her consciousness and the laughter stuck in her throat as Elissa twisted round, expecting to find that her elven Commander had freed himself from the clutches of Zevran and Oghren. She was right; Torih, Gethin and Ithyal had succeeded in navigating through the crowd but the guards, no longer faced with the dilemma of denying the Hero of Ferelden, had readied themselves and were doing their utmost to keep the three Orlesians at bay.

"Love?"

Familiarity meant that Elissa responded to the endearment before fully registering what he had said. Before she could gather her wits to question him however, Alistair leant forward and kissed her cheek. The tales Leliana had woven had led her to expect in such circumstances something much more memorable, toe-curling, earth-shattering but there it was; a chaste kiss. Yet judging by the self-conscious heat radiating from both their cheeks, and the eruption of the crowd, it was a fitting gesture for the current state of affairs.

As she arched an eyebrow towards him in silent question, Alistair murmured, "it seemed the only right thing to do."

Elissa made to answer, but the clamour from behind reminded her that however much she might want to talk, there was simply no time. There were still as many questions between them as before, probably even more now, but all would have to wait. Instead, she offered him a shy smile and delighted in the way his own hesitant grin flourished as he caught her eye.

With nothing else to be said, all that was left to do was leave. Crossing her arms in front of her chest, Elissa bowed her head towards him before she spun on her heel. At sight of her approach, the cluster of guards fell back from the three Orlesian Wardens and she moved, shoulders squared and head held high, to reclaim her place at the side of her Commander.

Thanks to EasternViolet for her help and suggestions.