We left Redcliffe the next day. I was determined to get things done, but being on the road again was harder than I thought it would be. Alistair kept his distance, but even so, it was difficult to be around him. At least in the castle, I could shut myself away in the room if I didn't feel like seeing him. Out on the open road, there was nowhere to hide. I was grateful to have my armour and my pack back, even if the armour did smell a little like death before I scrubbed it until my fingers bled.

I had been given a new horse, a large, black stallion. Master Dennet had warned me that he had named the horse Demon for a reason, but he was all the horsemaster could spare with the upcoming war effort. I hadn't minded. He was beautiful, but we swiftly discovered that he did not play well with others. In particular, he hated Grayson's Courser, and any time he rode too close to us, Demon would try to bite the other horse. I scolded him so often for his bad behaviour that every time I said, "Demon!", the others responded by echoing me in extremely terrible imitations of my accent.

Sten had commented that we were a fitting match, to which I had promptly ignored him.

News of my "condition" had spread quickly amongst my companions. I had thought to ask Grayson and the mages to keep my magic a secret, for the time being, but decided otherwise. I was trying to establish myself as trustworthy and safe, and I still felt a little out of place after my miraculous return from death. Having magic was bad enough. Having secret magic would only be worse.

Every night we made camp early, at Grayson's insistence, to allow me an hour or two of daylight to train. It was difficult and draining at times, and mind-numbingly boring at others. Morrigan and Wynne had worked together with me, for the most part, though it wasn't easy for them. Their teaching methods were polar opposites. Wynne's method of teaching was tedious, and involved a lot of theory and meditation and not a lot of actual magic. Morrigan, on the other hand, was very much in favour of dropping me in the deep end to find out if I could swim. I would have liked if they could find a way to meet in the middle, but that didn't seem likely.

One thing that they did agree on, however, was that the Spirit of Valour was probably responsible for keeping me alive, during my time in Redcliffe. It helped me to regulate the flow of mana, so that I didn't accidentally nuke myself. Morrigan theorised that Valour would also help to ward off opportunistic demons...the weaker ones, anyway.

Wynne had remarked on our third day of training that, though any spells that I was able to cast were fairly weak and pathetic, and I would in no way be ready to use magic in any kind of useful way, certainly not in combat, without a lot more training, I was able to cast with negligible mana use. Morrigan had shrugged, and insisted this was not very special. Her mother used even less mana for far more powerful spells. When Wynne had reminded her that I was more like a child, first discovering her power, she had simply rolled her eyes and neglected to comment.

Wynne had gone on to say that, in her many years of teaching the inexperienced, one of the hardest things apprentices had to overcome was the temptation to throw absolutely everything into a single casting. She concluded that the apparent boon to my abilities might have been down to my age, or to Valour, but that it was more likely due to my time in the afterlife. She called me Fade-touched, and as soon as she said it, I wished she hadn't. It made me sound less human than I had been before, and that troubled me more than I cared to admit.

Neither of them seemed to have any explanation, however, as to how my abilities had only just manifested upon my return from the dead. Morrigan said she had some ideas, but wished to study Flemeth's grimoire further before she could be certain.

One good thing that had come of my training, was that sleeping was no longer a problem. Each night, after my mage-training, Grayson encouraged me to spar for at least an hour after dinner, to regain some of the muscle-mass I had lost. I had been skinny already, due to this being an older - or, I supposed, a younger - version of my body, but after a week of eating almost nothing, I looked unhealthy. I fought with Zevran and Leliana, for the most part, as fighting Grayson had been completely demoralising, and even though I knew he was going easy on me, I spent most of the night being beaten into the mud.

I found that, though I still knew how to fight, I was slower, and tired more easily than I did before. I remembered back to the night that Alistair and I had fought off the walking dead in Redcliffe until dawn, and I knew that that sort of stamina was entirely beyond me now. In an effort to remedy this, I would force myself to dismount a few times a day and jog alongside the horses for as long as I could before pulling myself back into the saddle, sweating and breathless, but the ache in my muscles was a satisfying one.

Each night, I was so drained of energy by the time I crawled into my tent, that I was asleep before I could even tuck myself into my bedroll. The first few nights, Larry slept by the campfire. He watched me wherever I went, but he kept his distance. The morning before we reached the Dalish camp, I awoke to find him lying outside my tent. He let me pet him for a bit, before hauling himself to his feet and trotting away to find Khan. It was progress, but it was going a little more slowly than I had imagined it would.

Between the training, and finding my social footing amongst my friends again, it was growing easier and easier to let Alistair fade into the background. I still hurt. I still woke every night in hot sweats, biting my fist to stop myself from screaming. I still found myself bursting into tears at various times throughout the day, and was thankful for Demon's anti-social behaviour that meant I was far enough away from the others that I was able to hide it. I was still shattered, but I was limping along, and that was good enough for me.

On the last night of the journey, we made camp at the outskirts of the Brecilian forest, and I volunteered to gather firewood while the others set up the tents. Larry came with me, to my surprise, and helped, though I think he was a little disappointed that I was keeping the sticks he brought me, rather than throwing them for him. I promised I'd play with him later, and he stopped grumbling as much.

When my arms were full, I made my way back to camp, following the sounds of my friend's voices through the densely-packed trees. As I reached the treeline, I overheard my name and stopped in my tracks. It was Alistair's voice, low and secretive. I held my breath and strained my ears.

"...love her. I hate seeing her this way. I kept this...after."

I knew right away that I didn't want to hear this. I knew it would only hurt me. But I ignored my better judgement and crept forward, slowly, trying to get a good look at him. He and Wynne were sitting side-by-side, on a fallen tree-trunk, out of earshot of the others, and Alistair was holding out a black rag. I didn't recognise it at first, until he unfolded it, and I realised it was the black scarf that Bodahn had given me in Denerim, a lifetime ago.

"So that I...still had her smell. But Maker, I missed her taste."

Even though only the back of his neck was visible to me, I could see him blush scarlet when he realised what he'd just said.

"That...is to say...well, you know what I mean. The thought that I would never see her smile, hear her laugh...the thought that I would never kiss her again, or be able to tell her all of the wonderful things that she deserves to hear, every moment of every day...it killed me."

My heart ached with every word, and it was all I could to stop myself from rushing forward and throwing my arms around him.

"I understand, Alistair." Wynne said, patting his arm sympathetically. I could hear in his voice that he was crying, and I knew that I should leave, but I was rooted to the spot.

"When I saw her again, all I felt was relief. And then...panic. Fear. Fear that I would just repeat the same mistakes again. How could I continue to love her the way I did, and treat her like any other Warden? Especially now, after...now that I know what the world looks like without her in it. I know you're all upset with me for...for hurting her, so soon after we got her back, but I just... I just think this is for the best. I couldn't keep sharing a bed with her, knowing that we couldn't be together. It wouldn't be right. I had to end it then."

"And you truly believe that this is in both of your best interests?" Wynne asked, but her tone was neutral. She wasn't pushing him one way or the other. She was just letting him speak.

"I wouldn't have hurt her like this if I didn't. It is...hard. Some seconds are easier than others." He said, and I could hear the wry smile in his voice, despite his tears. "It's hard to see her, to know that she is so close and yet so far from me now. But she is alive. And I need her to stay alive. I know that what happened in Haven was a freak accident, I know that, I'm not a complete dolt...or perhaps I am. But even if I did think there was a chance that we could...she'll never forgive me for this. She told me so, herself. She doesn't even look at me most of the time, and when she does...she hates me. I don't blame her." He sighed, miserably. "I don't know, Wynne. I just don't know what to do. What do you think about all this?"

Oh no, don't ask Wynne. She was the last person I wanted him to speak to about me. I mean, I wasn't even sure what I wanted, at this point. I loved him with every fibre of my being, but I was angry, and hurt, and I did hate him. I loved him and I hated him and I wished that things were different. But I also knew that, despite all of the pain, despite all of the anger, I would swallow my pride if it meant that he would just hold me. As much as I loved Wynne, she was not in my corner on this. She was in the opposite of my corner. She was in the other guy's corner. She'd been rooting for this breakup since day one. Ask Grayson! Or Leliana!

I fought the urge to rush forward singing loudly to drown out her reply and listened.

"I think that you have sacrificed your own happiness to protect someone you love very much, Alistair. That is noble, and unselfish. I believe that it was hate, and not love, that took her from us. The rag was poisoned by one who meant you harm. You mustn't blame yourself for what happened."

I nodded, raising my eyebrows at her words. That was more positive than I had been prepared for. And then she continued.

"Lauren is a complicated person. I do not know if she would find it in her heart to forgive you, if that was truly what you wanted. And if she did forgive you, and if you were able to move past what happened in Haven...what then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you reunite with your love only to lose her again when you take the throne?"

"No, that's not...I don't want that." He insisted, his voice hardening in determination.

"Perhaps not, but the burden may be yours to bear. Love is the death of duty. Similarly, duty can be the death of love. See that you do not seek to repair your relationship if it is unlikely to last. If you think hurting her now is unbearable, think how much worse you might feel if you have to hurt her in the same way twice."

"I'm a bastard. Despite what Eamon said...I'm not fit for the throne, and I don't want it. Anora is already queen. Loghain is the problem, and I would see him removed, but not to replace him. Eamon only wants me to take power so he can use me for his own ends."

"Is that so?"

"Hmm. Leliana overheard him speaking with Teagan. He said some...unforgivable things. About me, about Lauren...I didn't want to believe it, at first, but...I trust Leliana. And I won't be used." He said, through gritted teeth. "So...disregarding all of that. And disregarding all of the other reasons that I shouldn't just...go over to her tent and beg her forgiveness...do you think I did the right thing?"

"Oh, I don't suppose it matters greatly what I think. I am just an old woman, alive past her time."

"I value your wisdom. Please."

"Oh, alright. Well...disregarding everything else that has happened or that might happen...as I said, Lauren is a complicated woman. I do think that she is a little more than you bargained for, Alistair." Dammit, Wynne, you miserable old... "But, you know...in my experience, when the Maker gives us more than we bargained for, we usually end up glad that it came to us."

Her response stunned me, and I wished that I could see Alistair's face. He slumped forward, holding his head in his hands, and she wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Maker…" He said, sounding about as torn as I felt. "Thank you, Wynne. You've given me...a lot to think about."

"You are a good man, Alistair. Do what you think is right." She said, softly.

"Hey!" I heard Grayson shout, from the main camp. "Quit slacking!"

I stepped behind a thick tree-trunk as they got to their feet, holding my breath until they were out of earshot, and then I slumped to the ground, dropping the firewood and hugging my knees to my chest.

I struggled to process what I had just heard. Did this mean that he regretted ending things? That just made me furious, and hopeful, and I didn't know which emotion I felt more, because each one filled all of me until the other replaced it, and they kept taking turns, trying me on to see if I fit.

Or was he just talking through his pain, like I should be, but wasn't, because I didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable, or like they had to choose sides. I had behaved atrociously in that first week, but I hadn't been thinking. I had been acting on pure, raw, powerful emotion. It didn't excuse the things I had said, to him or to any of the others, but as soon as we hit the road and the days of riding helped to clear my head, I felt intensely remorseful about the way I had acted, and had resolved to keep my feelings to myself from then on.

I wept, quietly, as my insides tore themselves to pieces, and I looked up when I heard a whine. Larry was watching me, his head cocked to one side, and I sniffed, reaching out to scratch his ear. He knocked my hand away, stepping closer to me and tentatively licking at my cheek.

"Thank you." I whispered. He lay down beside me with a groan, and I stayed with him until I heard my name being called. I let them shout for me a few times, while I gathered myself, stuffing all of the feelings back into the little box that I tried to keep them locked up in.

I knew that my eyes were still red from crying, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that, and I gathered the firewood in my arms and made my way back to camp, exiting the treeline far away from the fallen tree, so that they would not suspect me of eavesdropping.

"There you are." Grayson said, with a sigh of relief, as I approached. I raised my eyebrows at him in greeting, but said nothing. I couldn't trust my voice not to tremble, and I thought I would just about die again before giving him more reason to fuss over me than he already had.

I dropped the firewood into the pit that Khan had dug out for me, picking out a stick and throwing it for Larry, as promised. He darted after it, and Khan whipped his head around and followed, never one to be left out. I smiled as I returned to my work, arranging the firewood just so. I looked around for the mages - I had asked every night if I could practice lighting a larger fire than the sad little flames I was conjuring during our training, but Wynne had been firmly against it. Morrigan had looked intrigued, but reluctantly agreed it was best to start small.

The rest of the camp were busying themselves with the tents and horses - Demon was kicking up a fuss again, and had to be separated from the rest - and a small voice in my head, the one that spoke in Zevran's voice, said, Nobody's looking. You should just do it.

I didn't need much more encouragement than that.

I took a step back, checking again that nobody was closeby, and focused on the pile of sticks. A small spark caught, and quickly died, and I narrowed my eyes in concentration. The same thing happened again, and I gritted my teeth in frustration. Come on, I scolded myself, you can do this.

I closed my eyes, and let out a long breath, and delved inside of myself. Out of nowhere, a memory played in my mind's eye. I was ten years old, sitting on my bed in the room I shared with my sister, and my parents were arguing in the other room. I couldn't remember their words to each other, but I remember I was afraid. I was afraid until I looked at Emily, and saw she was crying, and then I was angry. I was very, very angry that they were making her cry. I climbed into bed with her and held her, whispering that it was going to be okay, and I knew that I had to swallow the rage so that I could take care of my sister. She was all that mattered.

And suddenly, I found it again, the rage that I had swallowed. My eyes flew open and I hurled myself - not my body, just my...self, at the firewood once more. The force and heat of the fireball that erupted knocked me on my ass, and without knowing how, I pulled mana from it, diminishing it. It was a similar feeling to when I extinguished the candle back in Redcliffe, only dialled up to eleven, and, after a few seconds, there was a roaring, crackling fire in the pit that I knew would burn all night. I laughed in surprise, holding my hands out triumphantly, and I looked around to see that everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at me - except for Demon, who was still being a little shit, stamping the ground in annoyance at Sten as he tried to restrain him.

"I HAVE THE POWER!" I yelled, like He-Man, as I scrambled to my feet, but nobody laughed. "Ugh. All of my references are wasted in this universe."

"Impressive." Morrigan was the first to break the silence. "If...foolish."

"Very foolish." Wynne agreed.

"Get off it." I said, dismissively, still grinning as I warmed my hands on the flames. "It was cool as fuck."

"Reckless, Lauren." Grayson said, but he sounded more exasperated than annoyed, like the long-suffering parent of a disobedient toddler, and he swiftly returned to his task. I met Alistair's eyes, quite by accident, and recoiled internally when I saw he was frowning at me. I turned away from him, back to the fire, forcing the emotion box closed when it rattled and threatened to open again. As I watched the flames, my mind calmed, and I allowed myself a small smirk of satisfaction.

"I made you." I said, quietly, so that nobody else could hear. "You're my fire-baby."

Leliana skipped over to me, once Demon was restrained, and threw her arms around my waist, enthusiastically.

"Well done." She whispered, throwing a cursory glance to make sure none of the others could hear. "Don't mind them. They're just-"

"Chicken-shit?" I grinned. "Getting a bit boring, aren't they?"

She giggled in response, throwing an arm casually around my waist, and watching the flames with me.

"There's a fire, starting in my heart. Reaching a fever-pitch, and it's bringing me out the dark." I sang, absent-mindedly. She bumped her hip against mine, when I stopped, and nodded, in encouragement.

"Go on." She smiled.

I shook my head.

"I'd rather not. It's not a very happy song, in the end." I said, watching the flames dance.

"The best songs are honest. Is it honest?" She asked, and I looked at her to see an impatient smile on her face. I grinned, rolling my eyes.

"It is honest."

"Then sing it for me, won't you?" She asked, pouting. "Oh, please. I haven't heard you sing since...gosh, it's been months now, hasn't it?"

Leliana sang for us every night, after dinner, and occasionally I would offer a tune, if the mood took me. I hadn't sang a word since I'd been back, though. All of the songs that played in my head were too sad, too much about heartbreak, that I didn't think I could manage them.

And even if I could...it would just be too corny. What? Alistair's sitting right there and I get up to sing an Adele song about being dumped? Gazing into his eyes, all sad and pathetic, while I break down crying and then get carted off by Grayson or Leliana? I could only imagine Zevran's reaction. For some reason, it was always that. It was always the thought of Zevran sitting there thinking, "This was so melodramatic and unnecessary", that really hammered the nail into that particular coffin for me. Thank you, no thank you. I cringed at the thought of it.

I looked back at Leliana, at those puppy dog eyes, and swore under my breath.

"Fine, I will sing it for you. But only for you. And only because you're making me feel like a terrible person."

"Come on, then. We have to bathe anyway. You can sing it for me, down by the river."

"Oh, yeah, great! And then when I wake up a nest of giant spiders with my wailing, maybe they'll like the song so much that they'll all applaud for me. All eight legs clapping for an encore."

She grinned and held her bow up, pointedly.

"That is not a mistake I will make again."

I laughed, and ruffled her hair, and she squealed and danced out of my reach, before pulling me into her side again and dragging me with her to the river.

It was freezing, and I wished that I knew a spell to warm the water without risking boiling us both like lobsters. I quickly pushed that thought aside. Wynne had warned me that if I started looking for magical solutions to every mundane task, it was a road that would only lead to disaster.

"Go on, then." She said, when we were waist deep. The moon wasn't exactly full, but it had only just begun to wane again, and I silently reminded myself that there were more than just spiders in these woods. We hadn't come across any of the werewolves since entering the forest, and I was quite sure there wouldn't be any this close to the edge. But I'd been wrong before.

"Okay...quietly, then."

I sang all of Rolling in the Deep for her, and she rewarded me with rapturous applause and made me promise to teach it to her. She would learn to play it on the lute, she said. I wondered how it would sound on the lute. Bad, I decided. Very bad. This might be an example of me using other-worldly knowledge to harm Thedas.

Still, she seemed happy about it, and that was enough. Things had been tense between us for a couple of days, after our not-quite-a-fight in Redcliffe, but we had both redoubled our efforts with each other to repair any fractures in our friendship, and she had become as much my support system as Grayson was.

The rest of the night passed without incident. Morrigan took my mage-training, as Wynne was too exhausted from the day of riding, and she pushed me harder than she had previously. I suspected I had myself to blame for that, after my fire demonstration, but I wasn't exactly down about it. I had felt like a bit of failure, until that fire. In pretty much every aspect of my life. I felt like a failure of a girl, of a daughter, of a sister, of a lover, of a friend, of a warrior, and now I had this brand new thing to suck at. But still...it was nice to feel like I was sucking a bit less at something, even if I had annoyed almost everyone in the process.

The fire was a symbol of something. Something important. I wasn't sure exactly what, yet, but I knew that it mattered. I had created it using old anger. Anger was so often a useless feeling, and I had used it, channeled it across eight years and two worlds, and created something new.

Grayson took watch that night, and I brought my bedroll from my tent and lay down beside him. Larry curled up at my feet, and my heart felt like it might burst with gratitude. Grayson stroked my hair, absent-mindedly, as I drifted off to sleep, rocked into dreams by the crackling of the fire, my fire, and for the first time since I had come back from the dead, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I was going to be okay.

AN: I'm going to keep this short and sweet, because it is LATE here, and I have a 9am class that I don't want to go to but definitely should. I'm the only girl on my course which is like...the most annoying thing in my life? Because lecturers always notice when I'm not there so I can't skip? 2/10 do not recommend.

Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing and favouriting this fic. Like, seriously, genuinely, thank you. You're all great. On that note...leave a review, if you can, they're always very much appreciated. I wish I could print them out and stick them on my fridge.

Eiris: You know I'm an evil and malevolent God, I like to make everyone suffer a bit. Did she write to Cullen? Did she not? I guess we'll find out lol

Chimera Spyke: I'm glad you're as hype for the magic as I am haha

NerdyMcNerderson: Thank you for putting Despacito in my head, it's been a fun few days haha. This one ended on a hopeful note though, right? So I hope you're not sad anymore

Judy: Thank you so much xxx

Playerovic: You're right, that would be a fun conversation. It might still happen! I have some thoughts, some notes, some drafts...we shall see. I was tempted to have her keep the whole thing a secret, and then suddenly reveal the magic at one point when she was in a tight spot, and she probably would have done if Grayson hadn't caught her, but what with travelling and sleeping in such close proximity, she wouldn't get much of a chance to practice by herself. And besides, Alistair still has Templar abilities, so I figure he or the mages would sense if someone was doing secret magic lol. Drop the name of that HP fic if you remember it, that sounds great! And I knoooow, the Arcane Warrior route is a bit predictable, isn't it? But it's also pretty OP so it could be fun! We'll see what happens (I still haven't written it yet lol)