I studiously ignored Grayson's knowing smirk as we made our way to the dining hall. We entered the room to find everyone else already eating and talking. Bann Teagan sat at the head of the table again, but the atmosphere was much more relaxed than it had been at lunch, undoubtedly due to the raised spirits in the castle now that Connor was safe.

I greeted my companions with a nod and Grayson and I took the empty seats at Teagan's end of the table. Alistair rose to his feet and pulled out the chair beside him as I approached but I pretended not to notice and sat opposite him, beside Leliana who was regaling a delighted Teagan with the tale of Ser Aveline. Grayson took the offered seat beside Alistair, clapping him gratefully on the shoulder, and I glanced up to see him watching me with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. I didn't have the heart to face him yet, I was still grappling with my conscience. There was a chasm of doubt between what I wanted to do and what I knew I should do and, until I found a way to bridge that gap, I decided it wouldn't be fair to lead him closer to the edge than I already had.

I knew that I couldn't embark on a relationship with Alistair when he didn't even know who I was. I didn't know how or why I was in Ferelden and I didn't know if the forces that brought me here would suddenly whisk me away again - the possibility had occurred to me before and I wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. If I was to bring love into the mix, it would just complicate everything ten-fold. But all of my reasons were based on logic and every time I thought I had reached a decision, I remembered the way I had felt when he kissed me, and suddenly logic didn't seem to make any sense at all.

The kitchens had prepared roast chicken and boiled potatoes with some kind of herb seasoning that I had never tasted before, but it was pleasant enough. I ate quickly, vaguely listening to Leliana's tale, and took a deep swig from the flagon in front of me, coughing and almost choking when I realised that it wasn't water.

"Are you alright?" Grayson asked, raising an amused eyebrow. I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I studied the pale brown liquid.

"Lady Duval, I do apologise. We had thought to celebrate the day's victory with ale but if you would prefer, I can have something else brought to you?" Teagan offered, sympathetically. I waved him off.

"No, that's okay." I assured him, taking a tentative sip of the ale and forcing myself to keep a straight face. I decided that getting drunk didn't sound like a bad idea. "I appreciate the offer."

"Not a big ale drinker, I take it?" Grayson grinned, taking a swig from his own flagon.

"Not yet." I shrugged, taking another drink. It was starting to taste less foul, though it left a rather unpleasant aftertaste.

When we finished eating, the servants cleared the plates away and Teagan stood, clasping his hands together in gratitude.

"My friends, I thank you all for what you have done here. My brother will have much to mourn and rebuild, should he recover, but thanks to your actions his wife and son are safe. My thanks to you, my lady, for your bravery and skill in defeating the demon." He nodded, gratefully to Morrigan. She sniffed and straightened in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with all of the praise she'd been receiving. I grinned, watching her, and turned back to Teagan as he continued. "There is still the matter of the mage, Jowan. It was his actions in poisoning Eamon that set these events in motion, but he has repented and has been wholehearted in his assistance and in his protection of Connor while you were gone. I must decide what to do with him."

"He's a blood mage." Alistair snorted, derisively. "He should be made Tranquil, at the very least."

I cringed at the malice in his voice. I had caught a glimpse of this side of him earlier when he confronted Jowan. I hadn't liked it then and I liked it even less now.

"The Rite of Tranquility is barbaric." I snapped, and he whipped his head round to look at me. "We all saw Owain at Kinloch Hold. It turns my stomach, just thinking about it. Nobody deserves that. And if that's your decision, I won't support it. Death would be more merciful."

"He poisoned Arl Eamon. He is the reason that Connor almost died. Countless villagers lost their lives before we stopped the army of the dead, and he is as responsible for their deaths as if he had taken a knife to their throats himself." Alistair's temper visibly flared, but I wasn't backing down.

"A responsibility that Lady Isolde shares. If she hadn't tried to keep Connor's magic a secret, none of this could have happened." I argued, rising to my feet just as Alistair did and we faced off across the table. "Jowan is an idiot, but if idiocy was punishable by Tranquility, half of Ferelden would be Tranquil by now."

"Idiocy was not his crime, Lauren." Grayson also stood, throwing me a warning look. "Jowan poisoned the arl. He may have been acting on Loghain's orders, but if every man who committed a crime on someone else's orders was absolved of guilt, hanging would go out of fashion very quickly."

"So you agree with Alistair, then?" I challenged. "You think he should be made Tranquil?"

Grayson hesitated. "I don't like the idea of Tranquility any more than you do, but…"

"He's a blood mage, for Andraste's sake!" Alistair cut him off, angrily.

"He's a person!" I cried. "What gives you or the Chantry or anyone the right to condemn someone to Tranquility?"

"The Rite of Tranquility exists for a reason." He raged, looking around the table for support. "For this reason. Look at what's happened here!"

"Connor is the one who summoned the demon." I said, lowering my voice and narrowing my eyes. I knew this was dangerous territory but the ale had lowered my inhibitions and there was just something about a man raising his voice to me that reminded me forcibly of my father. "Perhaps he should be made Tranquil?"

That did it. The table erupted and suddenly everyone was on their feet, shouting to be heard over the commotion. Alistair stared at me like I'd slapped him and I allowed myself a small smile of satisfaction, before lowering myself into my seat, never taking my eyes from his. Teagan was outraged, gesturing wildly at me and Grayson seemed to be trying to defend me, but their words were lost in the sea of raised voices around me.

Morrigan and Wynne were locked in a heated argument about the Circle in general but when Sten called them Bas Saarebas and insisted that all mages should be leashed, they seemed to immediately forget their differences and rounded on him as one, while Leliana and Zevran fought over the Chantry's authority. She thought they were a force for good. Zevran disagreed. They chattered angrily at each other in Orlesian and Antivan, respectively, and I wasn't even sure if they understood half of what the other was saying.

I glanced around at everyone, feeling simultaneously guilty and amused by the chaos that Alistair and I had created. I took another swig of ale, and looked back at Alistair, who looked like he was feeling the same way. I raised my flagon at him with an apologetic grin. He let out a snort of surprised laughter, shaking his head at me in disbelief and I giggled, which only made him laugh harder. Before long we were both bent over the table, roaring with laughter and one by one our companions stopped shouting and turned to stare at us, uncomprehendingly.

Teagan looked alarmed and Grayson placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "They do this sometimes." He said, apologetically. "I don't know why."

"Perhaps they have been poisoned." Sten suggested, eyeing Zevran pointedly. The qunari reached across the table and picked up my flagon of ale, sniffing it suspiciously. "I have heard of a toxin that can addle the mind and turn it soft."

"Nonsense." Morrigan snorted. "What fool would waste such a poison on Alistair? His mind was already soft to begin with."

"Meow!" Zevran exclaimed, with an amused smile. "The cat has claws, no?"

"Would you like to be introduced to them?" Morrigan threatened, with a wry smile.

"Why, Morrigan, I had no idea you were such a flirt." He replied, grinning.

Before she could reply or turn him into a frozen elf-sicle, I took a deep breath and forced myself to stop laughing.

"I'm sorry, I was just trying to make a point. Maybe we can have a more open-minded discussion?" I suggested, and Alistair nodded, still chuckling, and wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye.

"You obviously feel strongly that Tranquility isn't an option, so maybe we can find another way." He said, diplomatically. I nodded, gratefully, and we shared a small smile of mutual respect that lingered long enough for the others to notice, but I ignored Leliana's questioning look.

"Perhaps we should discuss it...later." Teagan said, still eyeing us both warily. "There is still the matter of Eamon. He remains comatose. We have had scholars researching tirelessly to find a cure but so far our attempts to wake him have been unsuccessful."

"Did your healers manage to get their hands on the heart of a Snowy Wyvern?" I asked, out of curiosity. I knew that we needed the Urn, but I was interested to know, regardless. He frowned a little, looking taken-aback. "I came across some of the research when I was in the library earlier." I explained.

"I bet that's not all you came across." Grayson muttered under his breath so that only Alistair and I could hear and took a sip of his ale, averting his eyes from my murderous glare.

"No, as it happens. We sent some of our hunters North but they were unable to find the beast."

"Just as well." I shrugged. "They would have been eviscerated. Even your best hunters would have been outmatched by a Snowy Wyvern. Probably." I added, hastily, noting a flicker of suspicion cross Leliana's beautiful face.

"You seem to know a great deal on the matter." Teagan said, curiously. "Perhaps you could-"

I shook my head, cutting him off.

"No. For so many reasons. Even if we could find one, we would have to kill it, carve out it's heart - gross - bring it back, have your healers create the potion and even then it might not work." I said, firmly. "We need more."

"Well...there is something." Teagan said, hesitantly. "A relic, said to have extraordinary healing powers."

Alistair frowned. "You mean the Urn of Sacred Ashes." He said, slowly. "I spoke with Ser Donall in the Lothering Chantry. He told me that the arl's knights were searching for it."

"They have been searching ever since Eamon first fell ill." Teagan said, sadly. "There was a man, a scholar by the name of Brother Genitivi who was researching the potential whereabouts of the artifact, but he has disappeared. We sent our knights to search for him and for the Urn itself but none have yet returned."

"Well, we could...look for it?" Grayson suggested, gauging the reactions around the table. Both Alistair and Leliana looked thoughtful, Wynne and Zevran looked sceptical, Morrigan rolled her eyes and Sten grunted, shaking his head.

"Truly?" Teagan asked, hopefully. "Then perhaps you should look for Brother Genitivi's research at his home in Denerim. I cannot think of anywhere else you might begin your search."

Grayson looked round at us and nodded. "Denerim it is, then."

"Denerim?" Zevran leaned forward, with a troubled look on his face. "Is that smart? Loghain has already sent assassins after you, Warden. This would be similar to walking into the lair of the dragon, no?"

"Loghain is no dragon." I muttered, dismissively.

"Denerim's a big place. We'll be discreet." Grayson assured him.

"With a qunari?" Zevran raised an eyebrow but sat back in his chair. "As you say."

I chewed my lip, thoughtfully. We could travel to Denerim and discover the fake Weylon and find Genitivi's research and then make our way all the way back across the country to Haven, which would probably be about a month's round trip. Or, I could save that time and just tell them where we needed to go. There would be questions as to how I knew, of course, and I wasn't sure they would be easily evaded this time, but the game hadn't exactly gone into detail on the timescales involved. I didn't know if the arl just stayed in a coma indefinitely or if we were racing against time to save him. I decided to speak to Grayson alone when I had a chance.

"That's settled, then. We'll go to Denerim and see if we can't pick up where this Brother left off. It's as good a plan as any." Alistair mused.

"If we're going to Denerim, why not face this Loghain while we're there? He is your enemy." Morrigan said, haughtily.

"It's not time for that yet." I said, firmly. She opened her mouth to argue but I threw her a meaningful look and she pursed her lips in disapproval but said nothing.

"I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you would do this." Teagan beamed. "I am truly humbled, Grey Wardens."

"You can thank us when we return with the Urn." Grayson said, grimly. "The road to Denerim is a long one. I want you all to be rested before the journey. We'll leave the day after tomorrow."

With a plan in place, we spent the rest of the evening drinking and talking. Leliana delighted everyone with stories of the kings and queens of old, faraway places and Zevran taught Wynne how to pick locks using an old padlock he carried around with him, much to everyone's amusement. Alistair and Morrigan bickered but, whether because of the pleasant atmosphere in the room or because the ale had soothed their spirits, their barbs were less poisonous than usual.

After a while, with our bellies full of food and our heads swimming with ale, we said our goodnights and retired to our chambers. As soon as my door was closed behind me I made my way unsteadily to the vanity table and reached for Cullen's scroll. I snapped the wax seal in half and unfurled the parchment, squinting in the dim light of the room.

Lady Duval

I hope this message finds you in good health. I realise that I never thanked you properly for all that you did for me. I will forever be in your debt.

I write to you now because I have found myself occupied these last few nights with concern for your safety. I do not mean to cast doubt on your capabilities, but I fear the road ahead of you will be a dangerous one. This may be too much to ask, and I know that you owe me nothing of the sort, but if you could find the time to send the occasional raven to Kinloch Hold, it would ease my mind greatly.

I hope that you are not offended by my request.

Faithfully

Cullen Rutherford

I reread the letter several times with a smile on my face. He wasn't my Cullen, I knew that, but it was touching to know that he gave a shit about whether I lived or died.

"Lauren." A muffled voice on the other side of my door interrupted my thoughts and I groaned in frustration.

"What is it, Grayson?" I snapped, stumbling to the door and wrenching it open in annoyance.

"I need to talk to you." He whispered, slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

"Talk to me about what? Why do you look so shifty?" I demanded, shoving the parchment into my pocket before he could ask questions. "Look, if this is about Alistair, we're not talking about it."

"Alistair? I don't fancy Alistair." He blinked in drunken confusion, before realisation dawned on his face. "Oh, you mean about you and Alistair. No, no, no, shhh, but yes, I do want to talk about that too."

"Grayson, I'm too drunk to deal with you being drunk right now." I snapped, moving to shoo him out of my room, but he ignored me and staggered past me to sit on the bed.

"I need your help, Kitten." He said, with a sloppy smile. It might have been the sincerity in his albeit slurred words or it might have been the use of the nickname, but I softened.

"Fine. What is it?" I sighed, moving to sit beside him.

"Morrigan." He replied, dreamily. "I like Morrigan."

"So I gathered." I said, smirking. "Still not hearing the part where you need me to help you, though."

"I don't know how to talk to her." He confessed, looking down at his hands.

"That's ridiculous, you talk to her all the time." I replied in exasperation. He shook his head, vigorously.

"No. I talk to her about other stuff. Blight stuff and witchy stuff. But I don't know how to talk to her about...this stuff." He said, hopelessly. "You know her, you've spoken with her. Help me?"

I smiled, slowly.

"Challenge accepted, my friend. This is going to be good. I am Michelangelo and you will be my Sistine Chapel."

"I don't know what that means." He hiccupped.

"I know you don't. Don't worry about it." I stood in front of him. "Let's start with a little roleplay, just to give you some practice, okay? Okay, so...pretend I'm Morrigan." I raised my chin imperiously and narrowed my eyes, getting into character. "Hello. I am a scary witch. My hobbies include sorcery, killing things and being mean. I like birds, being a bird, and dressing in bits of bird-"

"Bits of bird?"

"The...feathers..." I said, gesturing to my shoulder. "Don't interrupt me. I dislike interruptions, people, and the laughter of children. What do you wish of me?"

"That impression is...scarily good." He said, gazing up at me with wide eyes.

"I know, it's a gift. Now, go on. I say, "What do you wish of me?" And then you say..." I prompted, raising my eyebrows encouragingly.

"Ah...haha...um...so...do you eat? I do. Maybe we can do it in the same room sometime." He blurted, reddening instantly.

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Oh wow. Grayson, you're really bad at this." I said, with genuine surprise.

"I know!" He wailed, throwing his arms up in defeat.

"Like...impressively bad at this. And this is just practice. And you're so drunk right now you shouldn't have any nerves left, they should all be pickled in alcohol. Why are you so nervous? It's just Morrigan."

"Just Morrigan. She's the most incredible woman I've ever met. Most girls I know are all shallow and silly. But not her, she's different."

"I'm a girl that you know." I said, defensively.

"Yeah, well, that's different, you're...you." He said, dismissively. I crossed my arms, silently demanding an explanation. "I mean, I just don't think of you that way. And...well, even if I...ever did...think of you like that, I would never do anything to come in between you and..." He trailed off, smirking.

"Me and...?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"Do I even have to say it?" He raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading slowly across his face. "You and Alistair. Servants talk, you know, and that library wasn't as empty as you thought it was." He teased in a sing-song voice. I blushed, furiously.

"Well, that's perfect." I grumbled. "And for the record, he kissed me. I was the kissee."

"Andraste's arse, you really did kiss? I just made that whole thing up about the servant." He grinned, lazily. "That's nice. I'm happy for you. You make a fine pair."

"We're not a…" I trailed off, narrowing my eyes at the amused smirk on his face. "Nice diversion tactics, Romeo, but this isn't about me. It's about you and the Wicked Witch of the South."

"Please stop calling her that."

"No. I shan't." I snapped.

"You're such a child."

"Oh, I'm the child?" I scoffed. "At least I can speak in coherent sentences to a member of the opposite sex."

"I thought you were supposed to be helping me?" He whined.

"You want my help? Fine. Here's some advice for you. If you like her, tell her." I stormed over to the door and wrenched it open, gesturing for him to leave. "You told me that she's the most incredible woman you've ever met. Tell her that. You're not going to get very far in life by turning women into question marks. We're people. Talk to her the way you talk to me, or Alistair, or any other human being that you respect. Stop whining about it and just earn it."

"Is that what Alistair did?" He teased, rising to his feet.

"Yes, actually. Alistair, the most awkward person we know, is better at talking to women than you are." I replied, flippantly. "Maybe you should be asking him for advice instead of me."

"He'd probably be nicer." He said, thoughtfully. "But maybe I'll ask him tomorrow."

He staggered towards me and gripped my shoulders, kissing my forehead sloppily.

"Goodnight, Grayson." I sighed, wiping my forehead. As he left, a thought suddenly struck me. "Grayson, Alistair's Fade dream...the one that I was in...what was it about?"

He turned and threw me an amused grin, before tapping his nose, secretively. Well, he meant to tap his nose, he missed by a wide margin, but the sentiment was there.

"My lips are sealed." He whispered. "If you're so good at talking to men, you should ask him yourself." I glowered at him and he chuckled. "Goodnight, Kitten."

I slammed my door closed in frustration and flopped on my bed, certain that the million thoughts running through my head would keep me awake all night.

I was asleep in seconds.

AN: Sorry for the wait, life has been extremely meh the last three weeks and my brain wasn't cooperating. Thanks to my beta, Kira Tamarion, for sorting through my brain mess.

And now, in no particular order...

helenGet: Yes, my plan is to cover all three games. I already have a bunch of ideas for DA2 and DA:I.

Never33: Yay for password finding! I'm always forgetting passwords so I feel your pain.

Midnight Alley: There might be a triangle situation but I wouldn't want to give too much away!

: I think Lauren feels the same way about Grayson's shenanigans, let's see how long she keeps her temper with him.

Chimera Spyke: I don't think Lauren knows what her choice should be, bless her. She's having a head vs heart dilemma, and that's without adding Cullen into the mix! I hope I manage to do it justice, I have some pretty clear ideas about where I want to go with it.

And thank you to writingNOOB, Baconlord53 and Guest for your reviews, and thank you to everyone who's faved and subbed so far. It's always nice to know people are reading and hopefully enjoying!

Please review, let me know what you think, and I'll try to get the next chapter up within the week. Thanks for reading.