Author's Note: Thanks to those of you taking the time to review! It is very good to be back, and I'm absolutely overjoyed that so many of you have returned as well. Tricking the Past wouldn't be what it is without your continued support.

Chapter 77 – The Light in the Darkness

It was blistering, the heat. It felt like flames were licking across her body as she threw up her arms to protect her face, reminding her of her time in the Fade. They had been trapped in a part of the Fade, a product… no, a domain of the Sloth demon. She had been a being composed of pure fire then, but now… now it was fading. The feeling, the fire... the room before them was now pitch black.

"What just happened?"

"Ghosts, demons, take your pick, really." Alistair came up beside her, his eyes squinting in the gloom. "If I have it timed right, Ser Otto should-"

"Though the Golden City has fallen, I have seen your face and your light, I am your-" Ser Otto abruptly stopped just as a deeper, booming voice filled the room.

"Save your pedantic Chant for your sermons, templar. You have killed my brood."

"-start praying," Alistair finished lamely. "Though the demon sort of stole my thunder there just a bit." He pulled Maric's sword from its sheath, the soft blue glow was the only light source beyond the pale sliver of sun that slipped in the doorway. The day was passing quickly despite the slow progress they were making.

"Like clockwork, isn't it?" Serena pulled her daggers, her eyes shifting around the room, searching for the source of the sound. "Well, I know just how to handle demons. Alim, Morrigan, ready your spells. Leliana, toss me a few ice arrows, if you have any left-"

"The Maker compels you, show yourself, demon!" Ser Otto shouted into the darkness.

"Do we want that?" Alistair mumbled. "I feel like I'm quite happy with it not showing itself and us showing ourselves right out the door."

"We cannot allow this menace to fester in her any longer, Alistair," Leliana said gravely, her eyes locked on Ser Otto's back. "Besides, it will be much easier to hit if we can see it."

"Oh, I suppose you're right," Alistair said with a sigh. Walking up to the nearest wall he banged his shield against it. "Well, you heard the man, demon. The Maker compels you. Come on out and we'll have ourselves a dance!"

"The Maker? There is no Maker! There is no Golden City!" The demonic voice shouted back. "But there are demons, oh yessss..."

"I hear not your blasphemy!" Ser Otto replied, waving a hand in the air as if to swipe away the demon's callous remarks. "By Andraste and all the Divine after Her, I order you to face me!"

"You delusional fools!" There was another burst of heat and smoke as flames erupted along the floorboards, causing them all to jump back. "Call upon your fake gods and prophets! Perhaps they shall bring you comfort when my brethren gobble your bones!"

"And the Voice of the Maker shook the Fade saying: In My image I have wrought My firstborn. You have been given dominion over all that exists." Serena knocked an arrow in her bow, aiming at the center of the flames, her voice carrying clearly over the demonic din. Alistair could see the fire reflected in her eyes as she recited the Chant of Light. "By your will, all things are done. And yet you do nothing!"

It was an taunt. A taunt to the demons, to come, to show themselves, to fight.

And then claws came from the fire, and a wrath demon formed. Wrapped in fire, it stretched and grew until it reached the ceiling, the wood of the floor cracking beneath it.

"No mortal can defy me!" The demon screeched, smoke bellowing from its mouth. It struck quickly, his claws swiping out as Serena and Leliana peppered it with arrows, the icy ones sizzling as they met its hot exterior.

The demon flailed, swinging its arms about. The enormous room was complete chaos as Serena and the others fought viciously against the rest of the demon's brood. The tear in the Veil was open, and shades slipped through in an steady stream, grasping, clawing their way into the fray.

Stepping quickly, Serena abandoned her bow in favor of her silverite daggers and met the fiery wrath head-on. It was unlike the sloth demon in the Fade, or any darkspawn ogre, though it was nearly as large as one. Its flaming body was its own protection, making any attack look more like a dance than anything resembling a normal fight.

"Twirl about, fool," the demon mocked, swiping carelessly. "You cannot defeat-"

Digging her dagger deep, Serena screamed as the flames licked up her armor to her face, her skin burning as she twisted the dagger in what she hoped was the fiend's chest.

There was a great shuddering beneath her, like an earthquake shaking her entire being, and then she was falling. Serena's body landed hard on the blackened floorboards as the demon collapsed completely, the fire going out.

All around her, ashy wraths exploded in bursts of smoke, as if most of their power was supplanted from the defeat of the wrath demon. There was a long pause as the quiet of the moment sunk in for them.

Sweaty and drained, Serena pulled herself to her feet, her neck aching from the burn the demon had given her.

"Morrigan, I hate to ask but if you have a balm… or… or anything?" Serena stepped over to the witch, pulling her braid away from her neck to expose the injury. "Normally I would see if Wynne-"

"'Tis nothing, Serena," the raven-haired woman replied, swiftly placing a cool hand on Serena's burn. Serena could feel the chill sink into her flesh, soothing the heated skin there. "As I told you long ago, though I am no healer, I am equipped to handle smaller… contusions and the like."

"We have done it again," Ser Otto said quietly. "I... I feel the darkness receding once more." His blank eyes stared up and out, into the darkness, as if instead of being programmed to see trees and flowers, he saw only what lied beyond the Veil. "I've seen the work of demons before, however. Some maleficarium consort with them-"

"Let us not mention these phantom maleficarium again, templar," Morrigan muttered, her golden eyes rolling to the ceiling as she continued to rub healing balm on Serena's injured neck.

"But the Maker must have guided- guppt." There was a sickening thuck sound, like someone punching through something thick and wet, and Serena felt her stomach drop out.

"Now you die!"

The shock barely had time to ripple through her as they watched, frozen in horror, as the templar dropped to his knees before them, clutching the trident that now pierced him through.

"No!" bellowed Alistair, his voice breaking through their paralysis. Thrusting his blade forward in one smooth action, Alistair let out another roar of pain and frustration as he skewered the returned demon on the end. There was a long, low hiss as the demon caved into itself before them.

"Morrigan, Alim, someone, please!" Serena dropped to her knees beside the fallen templar, her arm snaking beneath his head. "Please, is there... is there anything we can...?" Her eyes pricked with unshed tears as she felt Otto's blood drain out of his already pale skin and pool beneath them. "He's... he's..."

"He rests at the Maker's hand now, Serena," Leliana said softly. Grasping her other hand, the redhead prompted her to repeat the words of the Chant with her. "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."

"He was a good man," Serena choked out. "We should take him to the Chantry, they... they'll know what to do with-"

"We will take him," Zevran said. "Seeing how yours and Alistair's faces are still pinned up around Denerim." A silent exchange passed between him ans Leliana as they stood as one, lifting the body of the the broken Ser Otto between them.

"He is much lighter than I would have thought," Leliana whispered.

Zevran nodded, unusually solemn. "The dead always are, my dear."

The Alienage had been just as emotionally draining as it had been physically. Though they'd gotten the rest of the elves safely out of the slavers den, the bout with demons Alistair and others had been engaged in had shaken them all quite a bit.

Serena was exhausted. She had been riding out what seemed like a near constant wave of nausea all day. They'd had a small funeral for Ser Otto, the blind templar who had insisted on their help, at the Chantry just that morning. Besides Serena's group, it was attended by many of the sisters of the Chantry, some more templars, who gave sidelong glances to Alistair throughout the ceremony, and even some of the older elves, like Kallian's father, Cyrion.

Despite the tranquilizing words of the Chant of Light during the ceremony, Serena still felt uneasy. The man had come to them for assistance, and in exchange, they'd gotten him killed. It had been an accident, of course, but there had been so many deaths, and so many of them stemmed from Loghain.

Rubbing her temples, Serena laid back, frowning once again over the list she'd made earlier of the teynirs and bannorns they could count on to support Alistair in the Landsmeet. After speaking with Eamon late last night, he'd elected to call the Landsmeet as soon as possible, probably by the end of the week. Loghain's connection to the Tevinter slavers had been the last straw for the arl, it seemed. He wanted this civil war ended, and soon.

So Alistair could be king within days, she thought. Or, of course, they could all be tried and hanged for treason.

"Sovereign for your thoughts, dear lady," said a voice from behind her. Alistair was leaning in the doorway, his long frame looking surprisingly relaxed in the doublet and fancy breeches he wore. Picturing him in a crown wasn't so hard when he was outside of his armor.

"Keep your sovereigns, sweetheart. I saw you playing Diamondback with Zevran last night." Tapping the piece of parchment in front of her, Serena pulled out a chair for him. "I was just making a list, for the Landsmeet." Pushing it towards him, she ran her finger down the list. "Dragon's Peak, Waking Seas, South Reach… We have Highever and Redcliffe, of course. We need Western Hills, still, but Wulff is… he's a difficult man. Leliana is working on him. And Zevran tells me Ceorlic is basically in Loghain's pocket, so I don't think it would be wise to even try approaching him…"

"You forgot Rainesfere," Alistair said thoughtfully, picking up her quill. He scrawled the name of Bann Teagan's bannorn on the list in his tidy script, so different from Serena's big loopy letters. "Teagan is my uncle… sort of. So that brings us to… six? Is that enough? To secure the vote?"

"I don't know. I hope so. With Anora's support, maybe. Assuming that doesn't blow up in my face..." Serena sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It's too bad we can't just whisk you about, have you meet the arls and banns personally. Then they'd see what I see."

Alistair snorted. "And what is it you see?"

"I… I see a man who at first glance is like any man," Serena replied steadily. "A warrior, yes, but one with courage, and determination, and compassion. It shines out of your eyes, out of your soul, touching all of us." Serena placed her hand under Alistair's chin, her blue eyes burning into his. "You are the light in the darkness, Alistair. A second son of the blood, hidden away, and kept protected. A Warden in a time of Blight. You're just what Fereldan needs. This… this is your destiny."

"Oh, well, when you put it that way…" Alistair closed his eyes briefly, as if taking in everything she'd said. "I can't do this without you, Serena."

"Yes, you can," Serena insisted. "But if we're lucky, you won't have to."

"She won't tell you, outright, Wynne. You know how Serena can be."

"Alistair, if you won't tell me what I'm meant to look for, I'm not sure how much use I can be." The older mage turned another page in her book, silently lamenting the lack of good wine at Eamon's estate. It had been a long few days.

"You saw her during the funeral," Alistair insisted, his face full of concern. "She was practically green. I heard her vomiting yesterday in the morning, too."

Wynne frowned, closing her copy of The Search for the True Prophet, her interest finally piqued. "She was vomiting?"

"The day before, too. Like dry heaving. She told me it was some eggs or something she'd had for breakfast, but come on. I've seen her drink some of that grog Oghren distills without even flinching. She's sick." Alistair leaned over the table, taking up nearly the whole thing himself, his voice conspiratorially low. "You don't think it's the… the taint, right?"

"I don't think it's the taint, no. I'm the one who treated her that night at Ostagar, remember? She doesn't appear to be sweating, though she does seem a bit paler." Wynne chewed on the end of her quill, her mouth pressed into a firm line. "I have an idea what it could be, but I ought to examine her, just to make sure."

"Well, let me know as soon as possible." As the mage got up to leave, Alistair quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her into a swift hug. "And thank you."

"I'm sorry, but I'm... with... what?"

"Child," Wynne repeated. "You're with child. You are bearing, what I hope, is Alistair's and yours child. A baby." Wynne bit her lip in an effort to keep a straight face. In all the months she'd known Serena, she'd never seen the girl look so completely... bewildered. You'd think she'd told her she was going to have a newborn kitten come out of her in a few months. "I'd say you're perhaps seven or eight weeks along. Possibly nine."

"But how? How could I even-?" Serena bit her lip, her forehead wrinkling. "How could I even conceive?"

The older woman raised an eyebrow, unable to hold back her smirk any longer. "That part, I would assume, would be obvious, dear girl. Unless you're trying to tell me you have never..." She waved her hand in a vague circle indicating her disbelief.

"But I'm a Warden," Serena interrupted, plopping herself down on a nearby chair. "I… I don't think we can have children."

"Because of the taint?"

Glumly, Serena nodded. "I won't ask how you know about that."

"I've been around for a good long while, Serena. I probably know a lot of things I shouldn't. And I've seen a lot more than I thought possible." Wynne placed a hand on Serena's, patting it tenderly. "You and Alistair have not been Wardens for so long. Not even a year for him, and what… only a few months for you, really. A child could still be possible." She smiled. "Well, obviously it's possible."

"I'm not saying this isn't… this is good news. I think this is good news?" Running her hands through her hair, she pulled on her braid, stress reading clearly. "We never even discussed the possibility of children."

"The Landsmeet is tomorrow," Wynne replied sagely. "You ought to tell Alistair soon."

"Oh, so he can fuss over me?" Serena looked down at her lap, or her belly, rather. Wynne could see the crease in her forehead deepen. "I don't know, Wynne… He has so much riding on his shoulders as it is."

"That's true. Though assuming things go the way we'd like them to, at least you won't have to worry about an heir. You'd have a bouncing baby Theirin to carry on the royal line."

"That's a big assumption," Serena said. Dropping her voice, despite their being alone, Serena squirmed forward in her seat, her face anxious. "What if… what if it's… tainted? The baby?"

Wynne shook her head. "You can't think like that, dear. It's a miracle, really. Imagine a child with two Wardens for parents… It's a gift from the Maker, perhaps."

"You're right. Of course you're right. The Maker has blessed us. Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I need to have faith." Serena stood, a hand absently rubbing her belly. "Thank you, Wynne. Is there something I should do? Food I should eat? Or not eat? I don't know anything about this, I'm afraid. Killing darkspawn and maiming dragons, that I can do. This… well..."

"There's a potion you should start taking once every seventh day, and I have a few herbs I could give you for the stomach upsets. As much as it pains me to say it, Morrigan probably has a more extensive knowledge of herbalism than I do, so if you feel comfortable, it wouldn't be a terrible idea to confide in her." Wynne pulled a small vial from a pouch attached to her belt. "This, every seventh day. Start tonight." The older woman rose slowly, smiling down at Serena like a proud grandmother. "And tell Alistair, you silly girl!"

"I know, I will." Serena bit her lip, looking up at the mage through thick lashes. "You wouldn't think something so small would have such a huge impact."

Wynne nodded. She knew that all too well. "Children are a special kind of magic in that way, dear."

It was a surprisingly long walk up the palace steps the next day for Serena. Her feet felt weighed down, as if Peanut were sitting atop them, keeping her rooted in place. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they could all be hanged if this didn't go their way that was slowing her down. Or the fact that if the Landsmeet did go their way, Alistair would be king, at least in name and intention, before nightfall. Or maybe it was the simple fact that something, someone, was slowly growing inside her, this very moment, and she had yet to tell her fiancé anything about it.

Yes, it was probably that last bit. But if Serena was absolutely honest with herself, she hadn't even come to full grips with the knowledge herself yet. And it was true what she had said to Wynne… Alistair had quite a lot to get on with already without springing "Hey, we're going to be parents!" on him. By the Maker, they weren't even married yet.

She smiled absently to the palace guards as she and the others passed through, silently resolving herself to tell Alistair tonight, no matter the outcome of the Landsmeet.

"Warden." The voice was cool, almost insolent in tone, and it immediately snapped Serena out of her thoughtful ruminations. Ser Cauthrien stood before them, her enormous sword strapped to her back. At least it wasn't already in her hands, Serena thought.

"I am not surprised it has come to this," the young lieutenant continued. Her dark eyes snapped first to Serena, disappointment reading clearly there before drifting to Alistair. "And Alistair, if you were even remotely worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, now wouldn't you?"

"Well, that's rude," Alistair remarked. Stepping forward, he drew himself up to his full height, dwarfing the already tiny woman to the point where she looked like a small tin soldier next to him. "It also shows how little you know of me, Serena, the Wardens, or my father."

"I know you have torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom!" the small brunette shot back. She moved forward too then, her head craning up to look Alistair in the eye. "Do not think you will get past me to desecrate the Landsmeet itself."

"You and what army, my dear?" Zevran said, a dangerous note to his voice. "I count nine of us, and one of you."

"The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as regent," Ser Cauthrien barreled on, ignoring the elven assassin completely. "And we can finally put... this... to rest. Once you are all gone."

"Do you really not see what Loghain has become?" Serena asked quietly. "Tevinter magisters in the Alienage, taking our fellow Fereldans as slaves. Bribing arls, and poisoning those he couldn't buy, in order to remain in control… And worst of all, aligning himself with Rendon Howe, which is a sign of lunacy in and of itself. How can you defend that?"

"I… I…" Cauthrien frowned, biting her lip. "I admit I have had many doubts of late. Loghain is a great man, but I believe his hatred of Orlais has driven him to madness." A stray tear slipped down the lady knight's cheek as she stared into Serena's eyes. "He has done terrible things. I know it, but… but I owe him everything. I cannot betray him. Do not ask me to!"

Serena placed a hand on the woman's shoulder, her mouth a firm line. "Then let us stop him, Cauthrien. You know it's the only way."

At that, the knight dropped her gaze, her own dark watery eyes straying to a nearby tapestry. "I never thought duty would taste so bitter…" There was another nod, and Ser Cauthrien steeled herself, stepping aside to let them pass with a curt nod. "Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he once loved. But please, show mercy. Without Loghain, there would be no Ferelden to defend."

"I know," Serena replied. Stepping past the knight, Serena led the others into the Landsmeet chamber, her shoulders squared for a fight.