By the time I reached the exit and burst into the cool, mid-morning air, my lungs were burning. My strength and stamina had been steadily improving, and I knew that a brief power-walk and stair-climb wasn't enough to leave me this breathless.

I staggered towards the nearest tree and collapsed against the trunk, struggling to catch my breath. I closed my eyes as I slid down the trunk to rest on the ground, drawing my knees into my chest.

"Breathe." I reminded myself, the words echoing in my mind like a mantra. "It's just a panic attack. Just breathe. This is only a feeling."

I am Lauren Duval. I can endure anything.

Breathe.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the rhythm of my own breath, willing myself to calm down.

Breathe.

Breathe, Em. I heard my own voice in my head as a memory from my past life fought its way to the surface of my churning mind.

Emily had burst through the front door of our house crying so hard I was sure someone must have died. It turned out that Seth Logan had made out with Nicola Lennox at a house party a week after he and Emily broke up for what might have been the hundredth time. I couldn't understand how she could be so devastated by this that she couldn't breathe, but I sat with her on her bed and held her as she held her chest, as though her arms were the only thing keeping her insides from spilling out.

"Breathe, Em. You have to breathe for me."

"I can't. I can't, I can't breathe."

"Yes, you can. Come on, I'll help you."

I took her hands in mine and looked into her eyes, guiding her.

"Come on. Breathe fire with me. Ujjayi breaths."

Our yoga instructor had told us that Ujjayi breathing was sometimes called the ocean breath, because the air sounded like ocean waves when it whispered through the throat. Some people called it the breath of fire, because of the heat it produced. It was supposed to calm the mind. I always thought that it felt like magic. Emily looked like she needed some magic.

It took a few attempts, but eventually, she managed a long inhale through the nose, letting the air hiss through the back of her throat, and out through the mouth. We sat together for a while, just breathing, eyes closed, summoning the sound of the ocean with our breath until we were no longer in her bedroom.

We were on a beach, and there was nobody around. We were the only two people in the world, and the ocean ebbed and flowed for us alone. Definitely magic, I thought.

After a while, she sat back, and I opened my eyes to find myself back in her bedroom. Her face was calm, her eyes damp but clear. The storm inside of her had passed, giving way to a light drizzle.

"Feel better?"

"No." She smiled, weakly. "But thank you for being here with me."

"Hey." I reached for her shoulders, pulling her into another hug. "I'll always be here with you."

I pushed the memory aside, but borrowed the ocean from it, breathing deeply and focusing on the sound until it drowned out the rest of the noise in my head. After a while, I felt someone sit down beside me. For a moment, I could almost let myself believe it was her.

"I know you said you wanted to be alone. And…I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I just…" Alistair trailed off, and I could feel him shifting uncomfortably. "Leliana sent me."

My final ocean breath gave way to a wry laugh, like a wave breaking against the shore, and I opened my eyes, turning my face to him and resting my head on my knees.

"You know she only sent you because she wants us to get back together." I told him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I figured as much." He said, with a fond smile.

"But you came." I pointed out.

"I came." He agreed. "The Leliana thing was just an excuse, really."

"Ah." I smiled, knowingly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, frowning in concern.

"Do you?" I retorted, bitterly. "What's another terrible, impossible thing on top of all the other terrible, impossible things about me? You made your feelings quite clear, Alistair."

His shoulders sagged, and he sighed, regretfully.

"I owe you an apology." He said, quietly. "Those things I said…I didn't mean them."

"Yes, you did." I said, with a wry smile. He chuckled, mirthlessly.

"Yes, alright, I did. But I should never have spoken to you that way."

"No, you shouldn't have." I agreed. "It wasn't very friendly of you."

"It was, actually." He said. "If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't be so afraid for you. But I regret my words - they were harsh, and careless. Sometimes, you just seem so…untouchable. It makes it easy to blame you for things that I know you can't control."

"Yeah, I noticed." I said, huffing an exasperated laugh.

"Will you accept my apology?" He asked, hopefully.

"Sure." I replied, sighing. "I can't exactly blame the templar for wigging out about blood magic, can I? I'm about as freaked out by it as you were. But if you ever call me an abomination again, I will shave all of your hair off while you sleep."

"Okay. That part, I didn't mean." He said, rubbing the back of his neck, with an embarrassed smile. "But…now that we've cleared the air, you and I…do you want to talk about what happened back there?"

I frowned at him, studying his face.

"What?" He asked, running a hand through his hair, self-consciously. "Are you still thinking about shaving my head?"

"You're doing too much of the friendship thing." I informed him. "I was more prepared for kind of a slow-burn, but you're just leaping right in there, aren't you? Just…right back into the friend-zone as if you never left. Fighting with me, checking on me…Grayson usually covers those things. It's like you're speed-running friendship."

He chuckled, shifting to bring one knee into his chest and turning his body toward mine.

"Lauren, I've spent four weeks not talking to you. Two of them because you were…and then the last two because you couldn't look at me. And now you're looking at me again. So I'm going to keep talking to you until you tell me to stop." He said, looking over at me with a strange, calm expression on his face. "Do you want me to stop?"

I thought about it, then shook my head.

"No, I suppose not." I admitted, tilting my head and looking at him thoughtfully.

"So, as your friend, I ask again: do you want to talk about it?"

"I don't know." I said, honestly. "I don't know what it means. Fade Child. That doesn't feel real. It doesn't feel like who I am."

"I don't know what it means, either." He admitted. "I don't often take spirits at their word, but…well…she did seem to be sincere, even if she may have been mistaken. Morrigan seems pretty sure about it. Though I'm not sure how much stock one should place in what Morrigan has to say."

"Oh, hush." I said, waving a hand half-heartedly at him. I frowned down at my hands. "If…if it's true, though…it would mean that my dad isn't my dad."

"Yeah." He said, with a heavy sigh. "I know you…you said before that you didn't have the easiest relationship with him."

"So what, like, maybe it's a good thing?" I snorted derisively.

"No, I didn't mean…I just know that this must be hard for you." He said gently. I softened under his careful gaze and bit my lip.

"When I was a kid, I used to wish that I was secretly adopted." I confessed, with a rueful smile. "I used to imagine that I was someone special, and that one day my real parents would come and take me and Emily away. And now, there's a chance that my dad isn't my dad and I just feel…I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel."

He didn't say anything, but I could feel him watching me. We let the silence stretch on, and I leaned back against the tree, closing my eyes and releasing a slow breath.

"I yelled at him." I said, quietly. "The day I left. The day of Emily's funeral. I yelled at my dad. That must have been one of the worst days of his life. And I yelled at him, and then I left, and that's probably the last time I'll ever see him. That's the last memory he'll ever have of me. And now…he has to be my dad. I can't…it would feel like losing him twice."

"He'll always be your dad." Alistair said, resting a hand gingerly on my arm. "No matter what, he'll always be your dad."

"When you say that, it just sounds like you're saying he's not really my dad." I said, rolling my eyes.

"No, that's the opposite of what I said." He argued.

"Yeah, but you said it the way that people say it about step-parents or adoptive parents. And that's fine for those people. For those people, that's their thing. You said it the way I'd say it to you, but that's your thing. It's not mine."

"What do you mean, it's my thing?" He frowned.

"You know what I mean. Everyone has a thing. A big, life-changing, character-defining, spend-years-coming-to-term-with-it…thing."

"So, Maric is my thing?" He asked sceptically.

"You didn't know your dad. Eamon was your dad. He sucks, but he was your dad. Then…Duncan was kind of your dad. And it's sad, and hard, and I'm so sorry that you lost him. It isn't fair, and I wish I could have saved him for you."

"Alright. So maybe I have a dad thing." He admitted glumly. "But you're stronger than me. If I can get through it, so can you."

"No, no, I can't have a dad thing, Alistair. The dad thing? That's your thing, that's not my thing. I already have a thing. I have a dead sister thing."

"Well…I have a mother thing, too." He said with a wry smile.

"And I have a spirit of Valour thing."

"And I have a templar thing."

"Well…I have the whole comes-from-another-world-and-knows-the-future thing."

"Well, I have the whole heir-to-the-throne-of-the-dead-brother-I-never-really-knew thing."

"I have the dying thing." I said, firmly. "Did you die? Because if you didn't die, then I win."

"Oh? Well, I didn't know it was a competition, but no. I don't have a dying thing." He conceded. He started to grin, but his smile died as a thought seemed to occur to him and he looked away from me.

"What?" I asked, searching his face. He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head, before bringing his eyes back to meet mine.

"I have a you thing." He said, with a half-shrug. "So…maybe I do win."

"What do you mean, you have a me thing?"

"You died." He said, with the hint of an accusation in his voice. "In my arms."

"I came back." I muttered, defensively.

"You came back. But it still happened. And…I'm still grieving for the girl who died that day, on the mountain." I frowned, shifting uncomfortably, and he dropped his gaze from mine, with a sad smile. "If you want to talk about life-changing, character-defining, spend-years-coming-to-terms-with-it moments, I'd say that one is pretty up there."

"Well…I have a you thing." I said, huffily.

"You have a me thing?"

"Of course, I have a you thing." I snapped, irritably. "I mean…you just came along and swept me off my feet and made me fall in love with you even though I specifically remember thinking it was a terrible idea. And now you're being all sweet and kind and impossible to get over, so I'm obviously ruined for all other men and I'll never love again."

"Well…I'm ruined for all other women and I'll never love again either."

"Good."

"Good!"

I crossed my arms and turned away from him.

"Good." He said again, quietly.

"Great." I countered.

"Perfect." He retorted.

"This isn't how friends are supposed to comfort friends who just received impossible, terrible news, by the way. Just so you know." I snapped over my shoulder.

He shifted, uncomfortably, and I could tell he was considering my words. After a few moments, I heard him curse under his breath, and I felt his hand on my shoulder. I didn't move.

"Do friends…I mean do we…do we hug?"

I turned back to him, so surprised by the question that I forgot to be annoyed with him.

"I don't know. Friends hug. Morrigan hugged me last night but she'll deny it if you ask her about it. But I don't know if we hug."

"Well…we are friends."

"I don't know if we're friends who hug, though." I said, warily. "With us, hugging always led to…other things. Things that friends definitely don't do."

"Right." He said, looking crestfallen. "I suppose it's…probably best not to risk it."

"Right." I agreed, trying not to feel disappointed. "Probably…best not to."

I relaxed back into the tree again.

"I'm sorry." I said, quietly. "That you have a me thing."

"I'm sorry too." He huffed out a humourless laugh. "And I'm sorry that I'm apparently a terrible friend."

"You're not terrible." I said, half-heartedly.

"I came out here to apologise, and to make sure you were okay, and then I snapped at you. I'm supposed to be comforting you but I don't know how to comfort you without touching you, and I can't touch you because I…I'm a terrible friend."

"It's okay. You don't have to comfort me. I've been practising this new thing lately where I'm trying to be my own rock."

"How is that going?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.

I chewed my lip, considering the question for a moment before answering.

"Well, I only started last night and so far I've accidentally used blood magic, had a full-blown panic attack, and now I'm pretty sure everything I've ever known about myself has been a lie, and even though I know I shouldn't, all I want is for you to hold me. So, all things considered, it's going pretty well, I think."

He looked down at me and I rolled my eyes and tried a dismissive smile, but my bottom lip quivered traitorously.

"Oh, come here." He breathed, shifting closer to me and wrapping his arms around me. I screwed my eyes shut and melted into him, knowing even as I did so that it was a terrible idea.

He pulled me closer, shifting me in his arms to pull me into his lap and I buried my face into the cool metal of his breastplate.

He let out a ragged sigh and pressed his lips to the top of my head. I slid my hand up his chest to grip his shoulder and I felt his arms tighten around me as his breath hitched in his throat.

In the familiar warmth of his arms, I forgot to be awkward and aloof. I forgot all about being Lauren Duval and I forgot all about being strong and enduring. All I knew was that I hadn't felt this safe since the last time he had held me.

"I don't want it to be true." I whispered. "But I think…I think it is. And I don't know if I'm supposed to feel scared or betrayed or…but all I feel is tired. I just feel so tired, Alistair. All the time."

"Shh." He breathed into my hair. "You're okay. You've got this. You can do this."

"I know." I sniffed. "I know I can. I just wish I didn't have to. I wish I could sleep for a year."

"I know." He murmured, kissing my head again. "It's okay. You're allowed to feel that way. You don't always have to act so tough all the time."

"Tough?" I choked a small laugh. "You must not have been paying much attention lately."

"Can we just stay here like this?" He whispered. "Can I keep you? Just like this. This is…this is nice."

"I…" I wrenched my eyes open and pushed myself back from his chest, fighting against the strong prison of his arms around me. I looked up at him and smiled, sadly, at the look on his face. He looked as completely ruined as I felt. "I think…we can't be friends who hug." I said, miserably. "Friends don't hug like this."

He swallowed roughly, and nodded, but his arms tightened around me again and he pressed me back into his chest.

"I told you." He whispered into my hair, kissing my head again. "I'm a terrible friend."

"Alistair…" I said, warningly.

"I know." He said, miserably. "I'm sorry. For everything. I'm…not sure I know how to be your friend."

"I know." I said, quietly. "I don't either."

We stayed there for a while, and I allowed my mind to wander back down to the chamber below, replaying the spirit's words over and over, trying to come to terms with their implication. I had lived and died in this world, but I had always known I was separate from it - I didn't belong here. If what she had said was true - if my real father was from Thedas - that changed things. It meant part of me did belong here.

"I wonder who he is." I muttered to myself.

"Your father?" Alistair guessed, and I nodded. "If he's a Dreamer, he's likely an elf. That would explain why you're so tiny."

"Well, you're not tiny. You're…what? Six two? Six three?" I said, more to myself than to him.

"I'm not a half-elf." He chuckled. I froze, realising that I had almost revealed the truth of his own parentage to him. I wondered if I should. I didn't think anything good would come of it. I had watched Fiona interact with King Alistair in Inquisition, and I had hoped that she would reveal the truth to him then, but she had made no effort to do so. I didn't want to be the one to deliver him into the same turmoil I was in now - he had come to terms with who he was. He had found a sister, and she didn't suck. I couldn't take that family away from him now.

"Right." I frowned. "Of course."

"He could still be alive." He said, gently. "He may be among the Dalish, or he may be in one of the Circles. We could look for him, if you like? Once the blight's over?"

"No." I said, quickly. "No, I don't want to know. I know my dad. You're right…whatever happens, he's still my dad. My real dad. Even…even if he's not my father by blood."

"You're taking all of this surprisingly well." He said, giving me a gentle squeeze. "I had been prepared for at least one accidental fire."

"Don't be fooled." I smirked. "I found it - the phylactery I was looking for. The presence inside was an ancient elf - an Arcane Warrior. They gave me their memories in exchange for oblivion. I'm not sure how much of them I'll be able to use, to be honest…they've been coming back to me in bits and pieces. But it's changed the way my mana feels. It's like…it's been re-routed or something. I don't think I have more control of it now than I did before, but it's feeding a different kind of magic."

"Does that mean…no more accidental fires?"

"I'm not sure." I admitted. "I hope so."

He let out a heavy sigh, and shifted me in his arms, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You are…a challenging person." He said, apologetically.

"I know." I said, with a half-shrug. "You used to be up for the challenge."

I found my strength and pushed myself away from him again, reluctantly. This time, he let me go, and I untangled myself from his limbs and rose to my feet, offering him a hand up.

"Come on." I said, with a half-smile. "We should head back inside. The ritual will be starting soon."

Accepting my hand, he pulled himself up, towering over me. But when I tried to withdraw my hand from his, he tightened his grip slightly, holding me in place. His frown deepened as he looked down at our hands, then raised his eyes to meet mine.

"What if I still am?"

"What if…?" I pressed, hardly daring to believe I had understood him correctly.

"What if I'm still up for the challenge?" He breathed, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my mouth.

"Alistair…" I warned, but before I could finish, he tugged my hand, drawing me closer. His free hand brushed a strand of hair behind my ear before encircling the back of my neck. "What are you…?"

I started to protest, but the moment his lips met mine, my mind went blank, and I melted into him, like snow in the rain. He released my hand, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me closer as his lips pressed against mine with an urgency that knocked the breath from my lungs.

My body responded to his, automatically, and I wrapped my arms around his neck and whimpered into his mouth and he answered with a needy growl, lifting me from my feet and spinning me to slam my back into the tree. I gasped at the impact, and he swallowed my breath, sliding a knee between my thighs to hook one of my legs around his waist. He rolled his hips, grinding his armoured crotch into my core, and I moaned into him, prompting another, frantic thrust of his hips.

He groaned in frustration and pulled away, briefly. He panted down at me, searching my face with wild eyes, before groaning again and capturing my lips in his, once more. My hands roamed, blindly, from his neck down to his side, seeking out the buckles of his armour. Sensing my intent, he lifted me again, laying me down on the soft bracken of the forest floor and settling himself between my thighs. He knelt back, ridding himself of his gauntlets and breastplate, and I followed him, kissing him while he undressed. He wore a thin, cotton shirt under his armour, to protect his skin from the bite of the metal, and I hastily untucked it from his trousers, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin.

I traced my fingers up his lean, muscular back and he hissed into my mouth at the contact, tugging impatiently at the silver fastenings of my own armour with one hand while the other explored the leather-clad curves of my body as he continued to grind himself into me.

The sound of the doors creaking open interrupted our frantic, passionate kiss, and he lifted his head, covering my body protectively with his own to shield my modesty.

"Oh, for the love of…" Grayson exclaimed, and I looked back, wincing at him. "Well, I'm glad to see that you two have made up, but there's a time and place! The ritual's about to start. Get dressed and…pull yourselves together."

He spun around, slamming the door shut behind him, but not before I heard him mutter, "Ferelden is doomed", under his breath.

I giggled, hiding my face in my hands, and I felt Alistair's body tremble with silent laughter. I pulled my hand away from my eyes, looking up at him cautiously, afraid that I might find regret on his face now that the spell was broken. I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face when I saw him staring down at me like a starving man might stare at a banquet.

"We should…" I started, eyeing his discarded armour, pointedly. He nodded, but kept his eyes fixed on mine.

"We should." He agreed. "But I would like to continue this…conversation later."

"Yes." I said, forcing my face into a business-like expression. "At the earliest opportunity."

"As soon as possible." He breathed, kissing me again. He pulled away with a reluctant groan and I pushed myself to my feet, straightening my leathers and redoing the fastenings that he'd successfully undone.

I watched him struggle to reach the buckles of his armour and stepped toward him, reaching for them and fastening them, gently. He watched me with a love-drunk smile on his face, and I smirked at him, shaking my head.

"You're right." I teased. "You are a terrible friend."

He dipped his head to kiss me again, laughing in disbelief.

"You drive me crazy." He whispered, breathlessly. "I feel like my head's going to explode…I never want to be apart from you again. Not ever. Promise me. No matter what happens."

"I promise." I said, hastily. The words tasted like a lie on my tongue, and I cursed, inwardly. I had to be honest. "But…you can't change your mind the next time I risk my life. Because there will be a next time, Alistair…do you understand? I can't…I can't do this with you again, not if you can't handle-"

"I can handle it." He kissed me fiercely. "I told you. I'm up for the challenge. I know the risks. I know you. I thought…I thought ending things between us would make you safer. But I was wrong, wasn't I? If anything, you've been more reckless than you were before. Almost setting yourself on fire, telling werewolves to bite you, accidentally using blood-magic...my brilliant plan to keep you safe didn't account for the fact that you're still so very…you. I know what I'm getting into. I can handle it. I promise."

"No more lectures." I said, sternly. "I know you and Grayson think I'm reckless, but you only think that because I'm pretty."

"You are very pretty." He said, with a dazed smile. I slapped his arm, trying to get him to focus.

"Yes, I know, and it's a real problem for me, because you two don't treat me as an equal - not really." I said, firmly.

"Oh! I'm sorry." He said, confusion breaking through the insipid smile on his face. "I…don't I?"

"No, you don't. But if this-" I gestured between the two of us, "- is going to be a thing, then you're going to have to start. If I was some other Grey Warden that Duncan had recruited…if I was a man, you wouldn't call me reckless - you'd call me brave. You wouldn't see me performing acts of strength and leadership and ask me to apologise for it - you would follow. You see me taking calculated risks and when they pay off, you call me lucky. But I'm not lucky, Alistair." I raised my chin, confidently. "I am excellent."

"You are…so beautiful." He whispered, kissing me again, and I laughed, rolling my eyes at him and pulling him towards the doors of the ruin.

"Oh, fuck beautiful." I grinned, as he threw an arm around my shoulders, kissing the top of my head with a happy sigh. "I'm brilliant."

I am Lauren Duval. And I can endure anything.

I looked up at his perfect face and silently admitted to myself that my mantra had been incomplete.

I am Lauren Duval. And I can endure anything. As long as he's by my side.

AN: Look, I gave you Alistair smoochies to make up for the new lore dump in the last chapter. The Dreamer thing's been planned basically since I started writing this, just wallowing in a decade-old notes document, waiting for a chance to drop. I was going to wait to drop it in DA2 or DAI but that's still such a long way away and it's been like FOURTEEN YEARS since I started writing this, so I thought I'd just dump it out there now and see what you think, because if you don't like it now, then you'd be extra super disappointed if I waited until Inquisition to drop it. There's a lot more Lauren lore tied in with the Dreamer thing that will be revealed in time, this is just one part of a larger (capital T) Thing, so drop your feedback/questions/concerns in a review or a PM!